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^^»€sl 


..'    ,„•'    • 

THE    WOEKS 


OF 


FRANCIS    BACON, 


of 


A   NEW    EDITION: 


WITH   A    LIFE    OF    THE    AUTHOR, 


BY 


BASIL   MONTAGU,  ESQ. 


IN    THREE    VOLUMES. 

VOL.  I. 


PHILADELPHIA : 
A.  HART,  LATE    CAREY   &   HART, 

No.    126    CHESTNUT    STREET. 

1850. 

Sttred'jped  by  L.  Julnmm. 


Pnr.ie.l  !>v  T.  K.  \-  P.  (!.  Collins 


ADVERTISEMENT 


THE    AMERICAN     PUBLISHERS. 


THE  publishers  of  this,  the  first  complete  American  edition  of  Lord  Bacon's 
Works,  would  never  have  entered  upon  so  considerable  an  undertaking  without 
feeling  that  it  was  justified  by  the  public  sentiment,  and,  in  fact,  the  demand  ot 
literary  and  scientific  readers  throughout  the  country. 

This  illustrious  author  is  now  distinctly  pronounced  by  that  undisputed  stand 
ard  of  taste,  the  common  sense  of  mankind,  a  classical  writer  of  the  first  rank. 
In  many  respects  Bacon  resembles  his  immortal  contemporary,  Shakspeare.  Like 
Shakspeare,  he  enjoyed  the  most  splendid  reputation  for  genius  and  ability,  in  his 
lifetime;  like  him, he  was  comparatively  undervalued  and  neglected  for  ages  after 
his  death,  and  like  him,  in  the  present  refined  and  severely  scrutinizing  era,  he 
has  been  tried  in  the  hottest  furnaces  of  criticism,  and  has  come  forth  pure  gold, 
whose  weight,  solidity,  and  brilliancy  can  never  hereafter  be  for  a  momen* 
doubted.  It  is  said  of  Shakspeare,  that  his  fertile  genius  exhausted  the  whole 
world  of  nature.  As  a  poet,  he  undoubtedly  has  done  this ;  and  Lord  Bacon,  as 
a  philosopher,  has  done  the  same.  Redeeming  the  human  mind  from  the  chains 
imposed  upon  it  by  Aristotle,  and  riveted  by  the  schools,  he  placed  in  the  hands 
of  scientific  inquiry  that  simple  instrument,  the  inductive  process  of  investigation, 
and  the  result  is  the  existing  system  of  natural  science.  All  that  this  age  of 
improvement  claims  as  its  own  in  astronomy,  in  chymistry,  in  mechanical 
philosophy,  and  in  the  improved  arts  of  life,  may  be  traced  to  the  genius  of 

Bacon,  the  acknowledged  founder  of  modern  philosophy. 

iii 


iv  ADVERTISEMENT. 

As  works  of  genius,  as  examples  of  calm,  clearsighted,  conclusive  reasoning 
and  authoritative  eloquence,  his  writings  can  never  be  superseded,  can  never 
cease  to  be  read  and  admired.  They  are  models  of  matter  and  style,  mines 
of  thought,  fountains  of  intellect  to  which  "other  suns  repair,  and  in  their  urns 
draw  golden  light." 

This  edition  has  been  reprinted  from  that  of  Basil  Montagu,  Esquire,  of  the 
Inner  Temple,  London,  the  most  complete  ever  published  in  England.  Those 
of  his  works  which  were  originally  written  in  Latin,  have  been  translated  in 
Mr.  Montagu's  edition;  as  the  insertion  of  the  original  text  would  have  un 
necessarily  increased  the  expense  of  this  edition,  it  has  been  deemed  expedient 
to  give  the  translation  only.  Every  attention  has  been  bestowed  to  preserve 
i he  purity  of  the  text. 

It  is  believed  that  the  works  of  Lord  Bacon  will  be  extensively  popular  in 
the  United  States.  The  increased  demand  for  sound  and  imperishable  literature, 
and  the  great  attention  paid  by  our  literary  and  scientific  men  to  the  works 
of  his  celebrated  contemporaries,  warrant  the  conclusion  that  his  writings  will 
speedily  find  their  way  into  every  well-selected  library  in  our  country. 


PREFACE. 


ABOUT  thirty  years  ago  I  read  in  the  will  of  Lord  Bacon — "  For  my  burial,  I 
desire  it  may  be  in  St.  Michael's  Church,  St.  Albans :  there  was  my  mother  buried, 
and  it  is  the  parish  church  of  my  mansion-house  of  Gorhambury,  and  it  is  the 
only  Christian  church  within  the  walls  of  Old  Verulam.  For  my  name  and  me 
mory,  I  leave  it  to  men's  charitable  speeches,  to  foreign  nations,  and  the  next  ages." 

This  passage,  not  to  be  seen  till  he  was  at  rest  from  his  labours,  impressed  me 
with  a  feeling  of  his  consciousness  of  ill-usage,  and  a  conviction  that  the  time 
would  arrive  when  justice  would  be  done  to  his  memory.  Sir  Philip  Sydney 
says,  "  I  never  read  the  old  song  of  Percy  and  Douglas,  without  feeling  my  heart 
stirred  as  by  the  sound  of  a  trumpet ;"  and  assuredly  this  voice  from  the  grave 
was  not  heard  by  me  with  less  emotion. 

The  words  were  cautiously  selected,  with  the  knowledge  which  he,  above  all 
men,  possessed  of  their  force  and  pregnant  meaning,  and  of  their  certain  influence, 
sooner  or  later,  upon  the  community.1  They  spoke  to  me  as  loudly  of  a  sense  of 
injury,  and  of  a  reliance  upon  the  justice  of  future  ages,  as  the  opening  of  the 
Novum  Organum  speaks  with  the  consciousness  of  power:2 

FRANCISCUS  DE  VERULAMIO 
SIC  COGITAVIT. 

There  was  also  something  to  me  truly  affecting  in  the  disclosure  of  tender 
natural  feeling  in  the  short  sentence  referring  to  his  mother,  which,  spanning  a 
whole  life  between  the  cradle  and  the  grave,  seemed  to  record  nothing  else  worthy 
of  a  tribute  of  affection. 

Thus  impressed,  I  resolved  to  discover  the  real  merits  of  the  case 
I  found  that  the  subject  had  always  been  involved  in  some  mystery.    Arch 
bishop  Tennison,  the  admirer  of  Lord  Bacon,  and  the  friend  of  Dr.  Rawley,  his 
domestic  chaplain,  thus  mentions  it  in  the  Baconiana :  "  His  lordship  owned  it 
tinder  his  hand,3  that  he  was  frail,  and  did  partake  of  the  abuses  of  the  times;  and 

1  In  a  former  will  (see  Baconiana,  p.  203)  there  is  the  same  wish  expressed,  not  in  such  polished  terms. 
The  sentence  is,  "  For  my  name  and  memory,  I  leave  it  to  foreign  nations  and  to  mine  own  countrymen,  aftet 
some  time  be  passed  over." 

2  FHAXCIS  OF  VERUIAM  THOUGHT  THUS. 

3  In  his  letter  to  King  James,  March  25,  1620,  in  the  Cabala. 

(A3)  v 


PREFACE. 

surely  he  was  a  partaker  of  their  severities  also.  The  great  cause  of  his  suffering 
is,  to  some,  a  secret.  I  leave  them  to  find  it  out  by  his  words  to  King  James  :l 
•I  wish,  that  as  I  am  the  first,  so  I  may  be  the  last  of  sacrifices  in  your  times :' 
and  when,  from  private  appetite,  it  is  resolved  that  a  creature  shall  be  sacrificed, 
it  is  easy  .to  ptick  up  sticks  enough  from  any  thicket  whither  it  hath  strayed,  to 
make  a  fire  to  offer  it  with." 

Dr.  Raw/ey?-did  not,  as  it  seems,  think  it  proper  to  be  more  explicit,  because  he 
judged  "  some'-papers  touching  matters  of  estate,  to  tread  too  near  to  the  heels  of 
truth,  and  ti)  the  times  of  the  persons  concerned." 

Having  foad  this  intimation  in  the  Baconiana,  I  procured,  with  some  difficulty, 
a  copy 'of  trie  tract  that  contains  the  words  to  which  Archbishop  Tennison  alludes. 
It  is  Bushel's  Abridgment  of  the  lord  chancellor's  philosophical  theory.  This  work, 
written  by  Bushel  more  than  forty  years  after  his  master's  death,  abounding  with 
constant  expressions  of  affection  and  respect,  states  that,  during  a  recess  of  parlia 
ment,  the  king  sent  for  the  chancellor,  and  ordered  him  not  to  resist  the  charges,  as 
resistance  would  be  injurious  to  the  king  and  to  Buckingham.3  Upon  examining 
the  journals  of  the  House  of  Lords,  I  found  that  this  interview  between  the  king 
and  the  chancellor  was  recorded. 

Having  made  this  progress,  I  was  informed  that  there  were  many  of  Lord 
Bacon's  letters  in  the  Lambeth  Library.  I  immediately  applied  to  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  for  permission  to  read  and  take  extracts  from  them.  With  this 
application,  his  grace,  with  his  usual  courtesy  and  kindness,  most  readily  complied. 

lu  one  of  the  letters  there  is  the  following  passage  in  Greek  characters. 

O']j  ny  o<txj)£vs,  0«p  /?£  IT  Qpon  us  TO  <ray,  Jar  vsvia^  nopvis;  vel-ar  KEvcvpa  KoXvutias :  @VT  t  onAX  cay  Oar  i  avs  yoo6 
viappavr  0op :  Osy  weps  VOT  Oc  ypearecr  o$0£i/<Jepj  iv  IcrpacA  -VTTOV  wjjo^  Os  waAA  $£,"\A.« 

In  another  letter  he  says,  "And  for  the  briberies  and  gifts  wherewith  I  am 
charged,  when  the  books  of  hearts  shall  be  opened,  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  found 
to  have  the  troubled  fountain  of  a  corrupt  heart,  in  a  depraved  habit  of  taking 
rewards  to  pervert  justice;  howsoever  I  may  be  frail,  and  partake  of  the  abuses 
of  the  times.7-5 

From  this  ambiguity  by  a  man  so  capable  of  expressing  himself  clearly,  and 
whose  favourite  maxim  was,  "  Do  not  inflate  plain  things  into  marvels,  but 
reduce  marvels  to  plain  things,"  I  was  confirmed  in  the  opinion  which  I  had 
formed.  <  I,  therefore,  proceeded  to  collect  the  evidence. 

Af&Tg^eat  deliberation  I  arranged  all  the  materials;  and,  from  the  chance  that 
I  niig\,  ."Ot  live  to  complete  the  work,  I  some  years  since  prepared  that  part 
which-rc  'dies  to  the  charge  against  him,  and  intrusted  it  to  a  friend,  that,  in  the 
evenfiofr%  death,  my  researches  might  not  be  lost. 

The  li.       TOOW  submitted  to  public  consideration.     I  cannot  conclude  without 

1  See  MiO         -  Js  extract,  p.  19. 

2  Baconio*        a?e  81. 
'  Soe  pag£fj?'ii/{ 

Deciphetfcr{  *^B  as  follows:  Of  my  offence,  far  be  it  from  me  to  say,  dat  veniam  corvis  ;  vexat  censura 
ujulast  J£.>  I  will  say  that  I  have  good  warrant  for:  they  were  not  the  greatest  offenders  in  Israel  upon 
whom  the  wair'fell. 

5  Letter  to  the  king,  May  25,  1620. 


PREFACE.  vii 

returning  my  grateful  acknowledgments  to  the  many  friends  to  whom  I  am  much 
indebted : — particularly  to  Archdeacon  Wrangharn,  with  the  feeling  of  more  than 
forty  years'  uninterrupted  friendship ; — to  my  intelligent  friend,  B.  Hey  wood  Bright, 
for  his  important  co-operation  and  valuable  communication  from  the  Tanner 
Manuscripts ; — to  my  dear  friend,  William  Wood,  for  his  encouragement  during 
the  progress  of  the  work,  and  for  his  admirable  translation  of  the  Novum  Organum. 
How  impossible  is  it  for  me  to  express  my  obligations  to  the  sweet  taste  of  her  to 
whom  I  am  indebted  for  every  blessing  of  my  life  ! 

I  am  well  aware  of  the  many  faults  with  which  the  work  abounds,  and  par 
ticularly  of  the  occasional  repetitions.  I  must  trust  to  the  lenient  sentence  of  my 
reader,  after  lie  has  been  informed  that  it  was  not  pursued  in  the  undisturbed  quiet 
of  literary  leisure,  but  in  the  few  hours  which  could  be  rescued  from  arduous  pro 
fessional  duties ;  not  carefully  composed  by  a  student  in  his  pensive  citadel,  but 
by  a  daily  "delver  in  the  laborious  mine  of  the  law,"  where  the  vexed  printer 
frequently  waited  till  the  impatient  client  was  despatched ;  and  that,  to  publish 
it  as  it  is,  I  have  been  compelled  to  forego  many  advantages;  to  relinquish  many 
of  the  enjoyments  of  social  life,  and  to  sacrifice  not  only  the  society,  but  evon  the 
correspondence  of  friends  very  dear  to  me.  I  ask,  and  I  am  sure  I  shall  not  ask 
in  vain,  for  their  forgiveness.  One  friend  the  grave  has  closed  over,  who  cheered 
me  in  my  task  when  I  was  weary,  and  better  able,  from  his  rich  and  compre 
hensive  mind,  to  detect  errors,  than  any  man,  was  always  more  happy  to  en 
courage  and  to  commend.  Wise  as  the  serpent,  gall-less  as  the  dove,  pious  and 
pure  of  heart,  tender,  affectionate,  and  forgiving,  this,  and  more  than  this,  I  can 
say,  after  the  trial  of  forty  years,  was  my  friend  and  instructor,  Samuel  Taylor 
Coleridge. 

I  am  now  to  quit  forever  a  work  upon  which  I  have  so  long  and  so  happily 
been  engaged.     I  must  separate  from  my  companion,  my  familiar  friend,  with 
whom,  for  more  than  thirty  years,  I  have  taken   sweet  counsel.     With  a  deep 
feeling  of  humility  I  think  of  the  conclusion  of  my  labours;  but  I  think  of  it  with 
that  satisfaction  ever  attendant  upon  the  hope  of  being  an  instrument  of  good. 
"  Power  to  do  good  is  the  true  and  lawful  end  of  aspiring.     Merit  and  IT 
works  is  the  end  of  man's  motion,  and  conscience  of  the  same  is  the  accomplish 
ment  of  man's  rest;  for,  if  man  can  be  a  partaker  of  God's  theatre,  he  will  I 
partaker  of  God's  rest."1 

I  please  myself  with  the  hope  that  I  may  induce  some  young  man,  who,  at  h 
entrance  into  life,  is  anxious  to  do  justice  to  his  powers,  to  enjoy  that  "  suavissima 
vita  indies  sentire  se  fieri  meliorem"  to  look  into  the  works  of  our  illustrious 
countryman.     I  venture  also  to  hope  that,  in  these  times  of  inquiry,  the  works  of 
this  philosopher  may,  without  interfering  with  academical  studies,  be  decmc 
deserving  the  consideration  of  our  universities,  framed,  as  they  so  wisely  are,  for 
the   diffusion   of  the   knowledge   of  our  predecessors.     Perhaps   some   opulent 
member  of  the  university,  when  considering  how  he  may  extend  to  future  timos 
the  blessings  which  he  has  enjoyed  in  his  pilgrimage,  may  think  that,  in  the 
University  of  Cambridge,  a  Verulamian  Professorship  might  be  productive  of 

1  Essay  on  Great  Place. 


viii  PREFACE. 

good: — but  these  expectations  may  be  the  illusions  of  a  lover;  and  it  is  not  given 
to  man  to  love  and  to  be  wise. — There  are,  however,  pleasures  of  which  nothing 
can  bereave  me  ;  the  consciousness  that  I  have  endeavoured  to  render  some  assist 
ance  to  science  and  to  the  profession,  the  noble,  intellectual  profession  of  which  I 
am  a  member.  How  deeply,  how  gratefully  do  I  feel ;  with  what  a  lofty  spirit 
and  sweet  content  do  I  think  of  the  constant  kindness  of  my  many,  many  friends  ! 

And  now,  for  the  last  time,  I  use  the  words  of  Lord  Bacon  :  "  Being  at  some 
pause,  looking  back  into  that  I  have  passed  through,  this  writing  seemeth  to  me, 
6  si  nunquam  fallit  imago,'  as  far  as  a  man  can  judge  of  his  own  work,  not  much 
better  than  the  noise  or  sound  which  musicians  make  while  they  are  tuning  their 
instruments,  which  is  nothing  pleasant  to  hear,  but  yet  is  a  cause  why  the  music 
is  sweeter  afterwards :  so  have  I  been  content  to  tune  the  instruments  of  the 
muses,  that  they  may  play  that  have  better  hands." 

To  posterity  and  distant  ages  Bacon  bequeathed  his  good  name,  and  posterity 
and  distant  ages  will  do  him  ample  justice.  Wisdom  herself  has  suffered  in 
his  disgrace,  but  year  after  year  brings  to  light  proof  of  the  arts  that  worked 
Bacon's  downfall,  and  covered  his  character  with  obloquy.  He  will  find  some 
future  historian  who,  assisted  by  the  patient  labours  of  the  present  editor,  with  all 
his  zeal  and  tenfold  his  ability ;  with  power  equal  to  the  work,  and  leisure  to 
pursue  it,  will  dig  the  statue  from  the  rubbish  which  may  yet  deface  it;  and, 
obliterating  one  by  one  the  paltry  libels  scrawled  upon  its  base,  will  place  it,  to 
the  honour  of  true  science,  in  a  temple  worthy  of  his  greatness. 

B.  MONTAGU. 
November  17,  1834. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  L 


Page 
LIFE  OF  BACON. 

PART  L — FRO:VI  THE   BIRTH   OF  BACON  TO 

THE  DEATH  OF  QuEEN  ELIZABETH. 

CHAPTER  I. 

From  the  Birth  of  Bacon  to  the  Death  of  his 
Father. 

His  Birth.  The  University.  New  Atlantis. 
Paris.  Death  of  his  father.  Return  to  Eng 
land  i 

CHAPTER  II. 

From  the  Death  of  his  Father  till  he  engaged 
in  active  Life. 

His  admission  at  Gray's  Inn.    His  occupations      vi 

CHAPTER  III. 

From  his  Entrance  into  Active   Life  till  the 
Death  of  Elizabeth. 

Parties  at  court.  Member  for  Middlesex.  In 
his  first  speech  recommends  improvement  of 
the  law.  Justitia  Universalis.  Speech  as  to 
the  subsidies,  which  offends  the  Queen.  His 
dignified  conduct.  Ben  Jonson's  description 
of  him  as  a  speaker.  Exertions  to  be  Soli 
citor  General.  Applies  to  the  Lord  Keeper, 
Lord  Burleigh,  Sir  Robert  Cecil.  Essex's 
exertions.  Fleming  appointed.  Essex  gives 
him  an  estate  at  Twickenham.  Returns  to 
Twickenham.  Invents  barometer  and  other 
instruments.  Resumes  his  professional  la 
bours.  Employed  by  the  Queen.  Effort  to 
secure  a  vacancy.  M.  A.  of  Cambridge. 
Work  on  Elements  of  the  Law.  Essex  ap 
pointed  to  command  in  Spain.  The  Essays. 
Sacred  Meditations.  Colours  of  Good  and 
Evil.  Proposal  of  marriage  to  Lady  Hat- 
ton.  Reading  on  Statute  of  Uses.  Essex 
solicits  command  in  Ireland.  Interruption 
of  intimacy  between  Bacon  and  Essex.  Ba- 
VOL.  I.— (2) 


Paga 

con  dissuades  Essex  from  accepting  the 
command.  Essex  appointed  Lord  Lieu 
tenant.  His  rash  conduct.  Intercession  by 
Bacon  with  the  Queen.  Return  of  Essex. 
His  imprisonment.  Bacon's  friendship.  Pri 
vate  investigation  in  Star  Chamber.  Bacon's 
objection  to  this.  Apology  for  Essex.  Pub 
lic  proceeding  against  Essex.  Bacon  coun 
sel  against  Essex.  Reasons  for  this.  Trial 
of  Essex.  His  application  to  the  Queen 
after  the  trial.  Obloquy  of  Bacon.  Impru 
dent  conduct  of  partisans  of  Essex.  Bacon's 
exertions  with  the  Queen  for  Essex.  Writes 
letters  for  him.  Impropriety  of  this.  Essex 
liberated.  Monopoly  of  sweet  wines.  Es 
sex's  violence.  Bacon's  interview  with  the 
Queen.  Treason  of  Essex.  Bacon's  diffi 
cult  situation.  Trial  of  Essex.  His  exe 
cution.  Account  of  his  treason.  Death  of 
the  Queen.  Bacon's  praise  of  the  Queen.  .  xsv 

PART  II. — FROM:  THE  DEATH  OF  ELIZABETH 
TO  THE  DEATH  OF  BACOJT. 

CHAPTER  I. 

From  the  Accession  of  James  till  the  Publica 
tion  of  the  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients. 

Bacon's  prospects.  Approach  of  the  King. 
Parliament.  Visit  to  Eton.  Letter  to  Sa- 
ville.  Education.  Greatness  of  Britain. 
Extent  of  Territory.  Compactness.  Mar 
tial  valour.  Riches.  His  parliamentary 
exertions.  Advancement  of  Learning.  De 
cision.  Dedication.  Objections  from  Di 
vines.  Politicians.  Errors  of  learned  men. 
Study  of  words.  Government.  Posthu 
mous  fame.  Analysis  of  Science  of  Man. 
Exertions  in  active  life.  Ireland.  Scotland. 
Church  reform.  Church  controversies.  Edi 
fication  of  the  Church.  Solicitor  General. 
Cogitata  et  Visa.  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients,  xlvi 

ix 


CONTENTS. 


Page 


CHAPTER  II. 


••i-om  the  publication  of  the  Wisdom  of  the  An 
cients  to  the  publication  of  the  Novum  Or 
ganum. 

Marshalsea.  Charter  House.  Death  of  the 
Prince.  Essays.  Prosecution  of  Lord  San- 
quhar.  Confession  of  Faith.  Attorney-Gene 
ral.  Parliament  of  1614.  Duelling.  Under 
takers.  Benevolences.  St.  John.  Peacham. 
Consulting  the  Judges.  Owen.  Villiers. 
Political  advice  to  Villiers.  Overbury. 
Somerset.  Disputes  between  King's  Bench 
and  Chancery.  Privy  counsellor.  Resig 
nation  and  death  of  Lord  Brackley.  Lord 
Keeper.  His  pecuniary  loss.  Presents  to 
the  monarch  and  officers  of  state.  To  the 
Lord  Keeper.  To  Judges.  Abolition  in 
France  of  the  Epices.  King's  journey  to 
Scotland.  Takes  his  seat  in  Chancery.  His 
address.  Jurisdiction.  Patents.  Delays. 
Expense.  Spanish  match.  Marriage  of  Sir 
John  Villiers.  Finance.  Civil  list.  Lord 
Chancellor.  Wrenham.  Dulwich.  Dutch 
merchants.  Lord  Suffolk.  Buckingham 
receives  £20,000  for  the  place  of  Lord  Trea 
surer.  Bacon's  judicial  exertions.  Buck 
ingham's  interference.  Slander  of  Wrayn- 
ham.  Presents  in  the  case  of  Egerton  and 
llgerton.  In  Aubrey  and  Bronker.  From 
grocers  and  apothecaries.  Hotly  and  Hody. 
Lord  Clifford  threatens  to  assassinate  the 
Chancellor.  Law  reporters.  Ordinances  in 
Chancery.  Judges,  character  of.  Gardens, 
Bacon's  delight  in.  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields. 
Gorhambury.  His  philosophical  house. 
Alienation  office.  York  house.  His  sixti 
eth  birth-day.  Ben  Jonson's  poem Iviii 

CHAPTER  III. 

!-'''-o»?j  the  publication  of  the  Novum  Organum  to 
his  retirement  from  active  life. 

Resolution  to  publish  Novum  Organum.  Liter 
ate  experience.  Division  of  Instauratio 
Magna.  Division  of  the  Sciences.  Novum 
Organum.  Our  powers.  Defects  of  the 
senses.  Division  of  Idols.  Idols  of  the 
Tribe :  of  the  Market  :  of  the  Den :  of  the 
Theatre.  Destruction  of  Idols.  Our  mo 
tives  for  acquiring  knowledge.  Obstacles  to 
acquiring  knowledge.  Want  of  time.  Want 
of  means.  Right  road.  Formation  of  opi 
nion.  Affirmative  table.  Negative  table. 
Table  of  comparisons.  Table  of  results.  In- 


Page 

stances,  solitary,  travelling,  journeying,  con 
stituent,  patent,  maxima,  frontier,  singular, 
divorced,  deviating,  crucial.  Differences. 
Parliamentary  proceedings.  Charge  of  bri 
bery.  Decision  against  donors.  Presents 
advised  by  counsel.  Custom  of  receiving 
presents.  Error  of  judging  of  past  by  pre 
sent  times.  Presents  made  by  men  of  emi 
nence.  Presents  of  furniture.  Presents 
customary.  No  influence  on  judgment. 
Particular  charges.  Fears  of  the  king  and 
Buckingham.  Advice  of  Williams.  Inter 
view  with  the  king.  Meeting  of  Parliament. 
King's  speech.  Letter  to  the  Lords.  Let 
ter  to  the  king.  Sentence.  His  silence. 
Letter  from  the  tower.  Letter  to  the  king. 
Lambeth  library.  His  will.  Silence  of 
friends.  Tennison.  Bushel.  Williams, 
Lord  Keeper Ixxv 

CHAPTER  IV. 

From  his  Fall  to  his  Death. 
Imprisonment  of  Bacon.  Liberation.  Re 
lease  of  fine.  History  of  Henry  VII.  Great 
ness  of  states.  Familiar  illustrations.  His 
piety.  Eton  College.  De  Augmentis.  His 
tory  of  Life  and  Death.  Importance  of 
knowledge  of  the  body.  Consumption. 
Vital  spirit.  All  bodies  have  a  spirit.  Flight. 
Death.  Importance  of  science  of  animal 
spirit.  Bacon's  works  after  his  retirement. 
Gondomar.  D'Effiat.  Sir  Julius  Caesar. 
Seldcn.  Ben  Jonson.  Meautys.  Bacon's 
pardon.  Death  of  James.  Decline  of  Ba 
con's  health.  Apophthegms.  Psalms.  Con 
fession  of  faith.  Prayers.  Student's  prayer. 
Author's  prayer.  Chancellor's  prayer.  Pray 
ers  in  the  Instauration — in  the  DC  Aug 
mentis — in  the  Novum  Organum — in  the 
Instauratio,  third  part — in  the  minor  pub 
lications.  Paradoxes.  Letters.  Skepti 
cism,  nature  of.  Rawley's  statement.  Ba 
con's  will.  Cause  of  Bacon's  death.  Ba 
con's  last  letter.  Opening  of  Bacon's  will. 
Funeral.  Monument.  Meautys.  Bacon's 
temperament.  Bacon's  person.  His  mind. 
Extent  of  views.  Senses.  Imagination. 
Understanding.  Temporary  inability  to  ac 
quire  knowledge.  Particular.  Studies.  Me 
mory.  Composition.  Causes  of  Bacon's 
entering  active  life.  Bacon's  entrance  into 
active  life.  His  motive  for  reform.  Re 
former.  Bacon  as  a  lawyer — Judge — Pa- 


CONTENTS. 


• 


Page 


tron — Statesman.  Reform  as  Statesman  and 
Lawyer — as  Statesman.  Reform  of  law. 
His  private  life.  Conversation.  Wit.  Re 
ligious.  Conclusion 


ESSAYS. 

,    l.%  Truth *?. 
,2.     Death 

J  nity  in  Religion    12 

\evenge  .  ,C_ 14 

dversity 14 

simulation  and  DissimulationlrtT'fr'.    J^T 

arents  and  Children   ...  ,sf 15 

Carriage  and  Single  Life 
\wrj 


,ife*£..*?v£r 


17 


1,17. 

19, 

20. 

21. 

.    22!* 


^ 


reat  Place.'... TTT 

Boldness   

Goodness,  and  Goodness  of  Nature 

Nobility 

Seditions  and  Troubles 

Atheism 

Superstition 

Travel_f ........  h^TT 7777 

Empire 

Counsel  -. , 

Delays 

Cumjing  . , 

Wisdom  for  a  Man's  self 

24.  Innovations 

25.  Despatch 

26.  Seeming  wise 

#7V    Friendship.  $. .  .Ir^T. rfc 

29.'    Expense 

29y   The  true  Greatness  of  Kingdoms  and 

Estates 

30.  f  Regiment  of  Health 

31.  \  Suspicion 

32.  ^  Discourse 

33.  Plantations 

3-4.     Riches  

35.     Prophecies , 

36.*"  Ambition 

37.     Masks  and  Triumphs 

Nature  in  Men 

Custom  aija  Education^. .  ..KT.7TT 
Fortune  . . .' 

Usur>'    •'•' •/.....  ™.j 

42.     Youth  and  Age   . . .  Y. f\  ,..:'. 

,43.     Beauty 

44. ,   Deformity 


20 
21 
21 
22__ 
24 
25 
ft 
26 
28 
29 


32 
32 
33 
^ 

35 

36 
39 

40  ! 
404 

41 


Page 

» 45.     Building 49 

f^G.     Gardens 51 

47.  Negotiating 53 

48.  Followers  and  Friends 5-1 

v  ,49.     Suitors  . . 


51.  Faction 

52.  Ceremonies  and  Respects 

53.  Praise 

54.  Vainglory    

5JL  Honour  and  Reputation. . 

56.  Judicature 

57.  Anger    


58.     Vicissitude  of  Things    GO 

APPEXDIX  TO   ESSAYS. 

A  Fragment  of  an  Essay  of  Fame G2 

Of  a  King  . 62 

MEDITATIONES  8ACRfl3. 

The  Works  of  God  and  Man 67 

The  Miracles  of  our  Saviour 67 

The  Innocency  of  the  Dove,  and  the  Wis 
dom  of  the  Serpent 67 


The  Exaltation  of  Charity 

The  Moderation  of  Cares 

Earthly  Hope 

Hypocrites 

Impostors  

The  several  kinds  of  Imposture 

Atheism    

Heresies 

The  Church  and  the  Scripture 


63 

6S 
68 
G'J 
70 
70 
70 
•:  i 

71 


73 

81 


38. 
39. 
40. 

4-1. 


43 

\l 

44 
45^ 

46 

•1  7 


OF  THE  COLOURS  OF  GOOD  AND  EVIL     ' 


MISCELLANEOUS  TRACTS    UPON   HU 
MAN  PHILOSOPHY. 

Mr.  Bacon  in  Praise  of  Knowledge.  ..•.,. 
Valerius  Terminus,  of  the  Interpretation  of 

Nature   „  . . 

Filum  Labyrinthi,  sive  Formula,  Inquisi- 

tiones  ad  Filos 

Sequela   Chartarurn ;    sive   Inquisitio   Le- 

gitima  de  Galore  et  Frigore 

A  Letter  and  Discourse  to  Sir  Henry  Sa- 

vill,  touching  Helps  for  the  Intellectual 

Powers v 


APOPHTHEGMS 


OENAMENTA  RATIONALIA  . . .  .t . . 


104 
107 
127 


48  | 
491 


COLLECTION  OF  SENTENCES 


CONTENTS. 


Page 
NOTES  FOR  CONVERSATION  . . .- ,  131 

ESSAY  ON  DEATH 131 

THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 

The  excellence  of  Learning  and  the  merit 

of  disseminating  it    162 

Objections  to  learning 162 

Objections  which  divines  make  to  learning  162 
Objections  which  politicians  make  to  learn- 

+  ing.-' 164 

Objections  to  learning  from  the  errors  of 

learned  men 166 

Distempers  of  learning 169 

Peccant  humours  of  learning 172 

Advantages  of  learning 174 

Divine  proofs   1 74 

Human  proofs   176 

Wn  VT    H  vs   IJKKV    DONE    for  the    advancement 

of  learning,  and  what  omitted 184 

Places  of  learning 1 84 

Books  of  learning   185 

Persons  of  the  learned   185 

DIVISION  OF  LEARNING. 

1.  History  relating  to  the  memory 187 

2.  Poetry  relating  to  the  imagination  ....  192 
3..  Philosophy  relating  to  reason 193 

HISTORY. 

Natural  history  considered  as  to  the  subject  187 

Natural  history  considered  as  to  its  use   . .  188 

Civil  history 189 

Ecclesiastical  Mstory 191 


Page 
OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

The  mind 205 

Invention  in  arts 207 

Invention  in  sciences 207 

Literate  experience 209 

Novum  Organum 209 

Invention  of  argument 209 

Judgment 210 

MEMORY ^-212 

Tradition 212 

Organ  of  speech ?<•••••    2  i  :$ 

Method  of  speech :.....    211 

The  illustration  of  speech , 2 1  ffc 

OF  THE   WILL, * 218 

The  image  of  good 219 

Public  and  private  goodi t22  I 

The  culture  of  the  mind .Vl*.  .  .  .  22^  ' 

M  AX    I  V    Sot'  1  F.TY 228 

Conversation 228 

Negotiation 229 

The  knowledge  of  the  scattered  occasions  .   229 
Knowledge  of  the  advancement  of  life  ....  ,231 

Wisdom  of  government 238 

Of  universal  justice,  or  the  fountains  of  law  238 


POESY. 


Division  of  poetry  192 

MILOSOPHY. 

Primitive  or  general  philosophy   193 

Particular  philosophy 194 

Natural  religion 194 

Natural  Philosophy 195 

Speculative  natural  philosophy 195 

Physique 196 

Metaphysique 196 

Operative  natural  philosophy   199 

Human  philosophy,  or  the  knowledge  of  man .  201 
Man  as  an  individual,  or  the  philosophy  of 

Humanity 201 

The  body 201 


OF  REVEALED  RELIGION, 


239 


NEW  ATLANTIS 255 

THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 

Cassandra,  or  Divination 287 

Typhon,  or  a  Rebel  . .  < 288 

The  Cyclops,  or  the  Ministers  of  Terror  . .  288 

Narcissus,  or  Self-love 288 

Styx,  or  Leagues 289 

Pan,  or  Nature 289 

Perseus,  or  War 292 

^  Endymion,  or  a  Favourite 294 

The  Sister  of  the  Giants,  or  Fame 294 

^  Actseon  and  Pcntheus,  or  a  Curious  Man  .  394 

Orpheus,  or  Philosophy 295 

Coelum,  or  Beginnings 296 

Proteus,  or  Matter 297 

,  Memnon,  or  Youth  too  Forward 297 

Tithonus,  or  Satiety 298 

Juno's  Suitor,  or  Baseness 298 

Cupid,  or  an  Atom 298 

Diome3es,  or  Zeal 299 

Daedalus,  or  Mechanic 300 

Ericthonius,  or  Imposture 301 


CONTENTS. 


X1H 


Page  | 

Deucalion,  or  Restitution 30 1 

Nemesis,  or  the  Vicissitude  of  Things 302 

Achelous,  or  Battle 302 

Dionysius,  or  Passions 303 

Atalanta,  or  Gain 304 

Prometheus,  or  the  state  of  Man 305 

Scylla  and  Icarus,  or  the  Middle  Way 309 

Sphynx,  or  Science 309 

Proserpina,  or  Spirit 310 

Metis,  or  Counsel 312 

The  Sirens,  or  Pleasures 312 


CIVIL  HISTORY. 

History  of  Henry  VII 314 

of  Henry  VIII 385 

of  Great  Britain 386 

.  State  of  Europe 368 


Page 
BIOGRAPHY. 

Queen  Elizabeth 395 

Julius  Coesar 401 

Augustus  Cojsar 403 

Prince  Henry 40i 

MISCELLANEOUS  TRACTS. 

Thoughts  on  the  nature  of  things 40*5 

The  Theory  of  the  Firmament 416 

Thoughts  and  Observations  concerning  the 

Interpretation   of   Nature 4C2 

Of  the  Principles  and  Origins  of  Nature, 
according  to  the  Fables  of  Cupid  and 

Heaven 435 

Topics  of    Inquiry  concerning   Light  and 

the  Matter  of  Light 453 

Francis  Bacon's  Aphorisms  and  Advices 
concerning  the  Helps  of  the  Mind  and 
the  Kindling  of  Natural  Light 454 


Nee  tanto  ceres  labors,  at  in  fabulis  est,  liberam  fertur  quaesivisse  filiam,  quanto  ego  nanc  T*  XA^X  iJtxv^ 
veluti  pulcherrimam  quandam  imaginem,  per  omnes  rerum  formas  et  facies :  (TKKK&I  yai>  y.^n  vZx  A^iv/av) 
dies  noctesque  indagare  soleo,  et  quasi  certis  quibusdam  vestigiis  ducentem  sector.  Unde  fit,  ut  qui,  spretis 
QUJB  vulgus  prava  rerum  spstimatione  opinatur,  id  sentire  et  loqui  et  esse  audet ;  quod  summa  per  omne  sevutn 
sapientia  optimum  esse  docuit,  illi  me  protinus,  sicubi  reperiam,  necessitate  quadam  adjungam.  Quod  si  ego 
sive  natura,  sive  meo  fato  ita  sum  comparatus,  ut  nulla  contentione,  et  laboribus  meis  ad  tale  decus  et  lastigium 
laudis  ipse  valeam  emergere ;  tamen  quo  minus  qui  earn  gloriam  assecuti  sunt,  aut  eo  feliciter  aspirant,  illos 
semper  colam,  et  suspiciam,  nee  Dii  puto,  nee  homines  prohibuerint. 


THIS  LIFE    OF   FRANCIS   BACON 


INSCRIBED  TO 

THE  REVEREND  AND  LEARNED  MARTIN  DAVY,  D.  D., 

MASTER  OF  CAIUS  COLLEGE, 

HENRY  BICKERSTETH,  CLEMENT  T.  SWANSTON, 
GEORGE  TUTHILL, 

AND 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  S/ MUEL  ROMILLY. 

B.  M. 


XV 


LIFE   OF   BACON. 


CHAPTER  I. 


FROM  HIS  BIRTH  TILL  THE  DEATH  OF   HIS  FATHER. 
1560  to  1580. 

FRANCIS  BACON  was  born  at  York-House,  in 
the  Strand,  on  the  22d  of  January,  1560.  He  was 
the  youngest  son  of  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  and  of 
Anne,  a  daughter  of  the  learned  and  contemplative 
Sir  Anthony  Cooke,  tutor  to  King-  Edward  the 
Sixth. 

Of  Sir  Nicholas>it  has  been  saicUthat  he  was  a 
man  full  of  wit  and  wisdom,  a  learned  lawyer,  and 
a  true  gentleman ;  of  a  mind  the  most  comprehen 
sive  to  surround  the  merits  of  a  cause ;  of  a  me 
mory  to  recollect  its  least  circumstance  ;*  of  the 
deepest  search  into  affairs  of  any  man  at  the 
council  table,  and  of  a  personal  dignity  so  well 
suited  to  his  other  excellencies,  that  his  royal 
mistress  was  wont  to  say,  "My  lord  keeper's 
soul  is  well  lodged." 

He  was  still  more  fortunate  in  the  rare  qualities 
of  his  mother,  for  Sir  Anthony  Cooke,  acting  upon 
his  favourite  opinion  then  very  prevalent,  that  wo 
men  were  as  capable  of  learning  as  men,  carefully 
instructed  his  daughters  every  evening,  in  the 
lessons  which  he  had  taught  the  king  during  the 
day ;  and  amply  were  his  labours  rewarded ;  for 
he  lived  to  see  all  his  daughters  happily  married ; 
and  Lady  Anne  distinguished,  not  only  for  her 
conjugal  and  maternal  virtues,  but  renowned3  as 
an  excellent  scholar,  and  the  translator,  from  the 
Italian,  of  various  sermons  of  Ochinus,  a  learned 
divine;  and,  from  the  Latin,  of  Bishop  Jewel's 
Apologia,  recommended  by  Archbishop  Parker 
for  general  use.3 

It  was  his  good  fortune  not  only  to  be  born  of 

i  "  He  who  cannot  contract  his  sight  as  well  as  dilate  it, 
wanteth  a  great  faculty  ;"  says  Lord  Bacon. 

»  She  translated  from  the  Italian  fourteen  sermons  con 
cerning  the  predestination  and  election  of  God,  without  date, 
8vo.  See  Watt's  Bibliotheca  Britannica,  title,  Ochinus 
and  Anne  Cooke. — N.B.  There  is  a  publication  entitled, 
"  Sermons  to  the  number  of  twenty-five,  concerning  the  pre 
destination."  London  :  Printed  by  J.  Day,  without  date, 
8vo. — Query,  If  by  Lady  Bacon  ? 

»  Ochinus  Barnardin,  an  Italian  monk  of  extraordinary 
merit,  born  at  Sienna,  1487.  Died  1594.  Watts  (S.  A.) 
Jewel's  Apologia  translated  by  Anne  Bacon,  1600,  1606, 1609, 
Fol.  1G26,  12mo.  1685,  1719,  8vo.  See  Watts,  tit.  "Jewel." 


VOL.  I.— (3) 


such  parents,  but  also  at  that  happy  time  "  when 
learning4  had  made  her  third  circuit ;  when  the  art 
of  printing  gave  books  with  a  liberal  hand  to  men 
of  all  fortunes ;  when  the  nation  had  emerged  from 
the  dark  superstitions  of  popery ;  when  peace, 
throughout  all  Europe,  permitted  the  enjoyment 
of  foreign  travel  and  free  ingress  to  foreign  scho 
lars  ;  and,  above  all,  when  a  sovereign  of  the 
highest  intellectual  attainments,  at  the  same  time 
that  she  encouraged  learning  and  learned  men, 
gave  an  impulse  to  the  arts,  and  a  chivalric  and 
refined  tone  to  the  manners  of  the  people." 

Bacon's  health  was  always  delicate,  and  his 
temperament  was  _of  such  sensibility,  as  to  be 
affected,  even  to  fainting,  by  very  slight  altera 
tions  in  the  atmosphere ;  a  constitutional  infirmity 
which  seems  to  have  attended  him  through  life. 

While  he  was  yet  a  child,  the  signs  of  genius, 
for  which  he  was  in  afterlife  distinguished,  could 
not  have  escaped  the  notice  of  his  intelligent 
parents.  They  must  have  been  conscious  of  his 
extraordinary  powers,  and  of  their  responsibility 
that,  upon  the  right  direction  of  his  mind,  his 
future  eminence,  whether  as  a  statesman  or  as  a 
philosopher,  almost  wholly  depended. 

He  was  cradled  in  politics ;  he  was  not  only 
the  son  of  the  lord  keeper,  but  the  nephew  of 
Lord  Burleigh.  He  had  lived  from  his  infancy 
amidst  the  nobility  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  who 
was  herself  delighted,  even  in  his  childhood,  to 
converse  with  him,  and  to  prove  him  with  ques 
tions,  which  he  answered  with  a  maturity  above 
his  years,  and  with  such  gravity  that  the  queen 
would  often  call  him  her  young  lord  keeper. 
Upon  the  queen's  asking  him,  when  a  child, 
how  old  he  was,  he  answered,  "  two  years  younger 
than  your  majesty's  happy  reign." 

But  there  were  dawnings  of  genius  of  a  much 
higher  nature.5  When  a  boy,  while  his  compa 
nions  were  diverting  themselves  near  to  his  fa 
ther's  house  in  St.  James's  Park,  he  stole  to  the 
brick  conduit  to  discover  the  cause  of  a  singular 

4  See  Bacon's  beautiful  conclusion  of  Civil  Knowledge,  in 
the  Advancement  of  Learning,  p.  000. 

*  See  Paradise  Regained,  b.  i.  "  When  I  was  yet  a  child," 
&.C.— See  Burns  :  "  I  saw  thee  seek  the  sounding  shore," 
&c.— See  Beattie's  Minstrel:  "Baubles  he  heeded  not,' 
&c. 

(B  2)  xvii 


XV111 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


echo  -,1  and,  in  his  twelfth  year  he  was  meditating 
upon  the  laws  of  the  imagination.3 

At  the  early  age  of  thirteen,  it  was  resolved  to 
send  him  to  Cambridge,  of  which  university,  he, 
with  his  brother  Anthony,  was  matriculated  as  a 
member,  on  the  10th  of  June,  1573. 3  They  were 

1  The  laws  of  sound  were  always  a  subject  of  his 
thoughts.  In  the  third  century  of  the  Sylva,  he  says,  "we 
have  laboured,  as  may  appear,  in  this  inquisition  of  sounds 
diligently;  both  because  sound  is  one  of  the  most  hidden 
portions  of  nature,  and  because  it  is  a  virtue  which  may  be 
called  incorporeal  and  immateriate,  whereof  there  be  in  na 
ture  but  few." 

As  one  of  the  facts,  he  says  in  his  Sylva  Sylvarum,  (Art. 
140,)  "There  is  in  St.  James's  fields  a  conduit  of  brick,  unto 
which joineth  a  low  vault;  and  at  the  end  of  that  a  round 
house  of  stone  ;  and  in  the  brick  conduit  there  is  a  window  ; 
and  in  the  round  house  a  slit  or  rift  of  some  little  breadth: 
if  you  cry  out  in  the  rift,  it  will  make  a  fearful  roaring  at  the 
window.  The  cause  is,  for  that  all  concaves,  that  proceed 
from  more  narrow  to  more  broad,  do  amplify  the  sound  at 
the  coining  out. 

3  In  the  tenth  century  of  the  Sylva,  after  having  enume 
rated  many  of  the  idle  imaginations  by  which  the  world  then 
wasj  and,  more  or  less,  always  will  be,  misled,  he  says, 
"With  these  vast  and  bottomless  follies  men  have  been  in 
part  entertained.  But  we,  that  hold  firm  to  the  works  of 
God,  and  to  the  sense,  which  is  God's  lamp,  lucerna  Dei  spi- 
raculum  hominis,  will  inquire  with  all  sobriety  and  severity, 
whether  there  be  to  be  found  in  the  footsteps  of  nature,  any 
such  transmission  and  influx  of  immateriate  virtues  :  and 
what  the  force  of  imagination  is,  either  upon  the  body  ima- 
ginant,  or  upon  another  body." 

He  then  proceeds  to  state  the  different  kinds  of  the  power 
of  imagination,  saying  it  is  in  three  kinds :  the  first,  upon  the 
body  of  the  imaginant,  including  likewise  the  child  in  the  mo 
ther's  womb  ;  the  second  is,  the  power  of  it  upon  dead  bodies, 
as  plants,  wood,  stone,  metal.  &c. ;  the  third  is,  the  power  of 
it  upon  the  spirits  of  men  and  living  creatures  ;  and  with  this 
last  we  will  only  meddle. 

The  problem  therefore  is,  whether  a  man  constantly  and 
Ktrongly  believing  that  such  a  thing  shall  be  ;  as  that  such  a 
one  will  love  him  ;  or  that  such  a  one  will  grant  him  his  re 
quest;  or  that  such  a  one  shall  recover  a  sickness,  or  the 
like,  it  doth  help  any  thing  to  the  effecting  of  the  thing 
itself. 

In  the  solution  of  this  problem  he,  according  to  his  custom, 
enumerates  a  variety  of  instances,  and,  among  others,  the 
following  fact,  which  occurred  to  him  when  a  child,  for  he 
left  his  father's  house  when  he  was  thirteen. 

For  example,  he  says,  I  related  one  time  to  a  man,  that  was 
curious  and  vain  enough  in  these  things,  that  I  saw  a  kind 
of  juggler,  that  had  a  pair  of  cards,  and  would  tell  a  man 
what  card  he  thought.  This  pretended  learned  man  told  me, 
that  it  was  a  mistaking  in  me;  for,  said  he,  it  was  not  the 
knowledge  of  man's  thought,  (for  that  is  proper  to  God,)  but 
it  was  the  enforcing  of  a  thought  upon  him,  and  binding  his 
imagination  by  a  stronger,  that  he  could  think  no  other  card. 
And  thereupon  he  asked  me  a  question  or  two,  which  I 
thought  he  did  but  cunningly,  knowing  before  what  used  to 
be  the  feats  of  the  juggler.  Sir,  said  he,  do  you  remember 
whether  he  told  the  card  the  man  thought  himself,  or  bade 
another  to  tell  it.  I  answered,  (as  was  true,)  that  he  bade 
another  tell  it.  Whereunto  he  said,  so  I  thought ;  for,  said 
be,  himself  could  not  have  put  on  so  strong  ant  imagination, 
but  by  telling  the  other  the  card,  who  believed  that  the  jug 
gler  was  some  strange  man,  and  could  do  strange  things, 
that  other  man  caught  a  strong  imagination.  I  hearkened 
unto  him,  thinking  for  a  vanity  he  spoke  prettily.  Then  he 
asked  me  another  question  ;  saith  he,  do  yon  remember  whe 
ther  h'i  bade  the  man  think  the  card  first,  and  afterwards 
told  the  other  man  in  his  ear  what  he  should  think,  or  else 
that  !)•>  did  whisper  first  in  the  man's  ear,  that  he  should  tell 
the  r.ard,  telling  that  such  a  man  should  think  such  a  card, 
and  aftel  bade  the  man  think  a  card  :  I  told  him,  as  was 
true,  that  he  did  first  whisper  the  man  in  the  ear,  that  such 
a  man  should  think  such  a  card  ;  upon  this  the  learned  man 
did  much  exult,  and  please  himself,  saying,  lo,  you  may  see 
that  my  opinion  is  right ;  for  if  the  man  had  thought  first,  his 
thought  had  been  fixed  ;  but  the  other  imagining  first,  bound 
his  thought.  Which,  though  it  did  somewhat  sink  with  me, 
yet  1  made  lighter  than  I  thought,  and  said,  I  thought  it  was 
confederacy  oetvveen  the  juggler  and  the  two  servants; 
though,  indeed,  I  had  no  reason  so  to  think;  for  they  were 
both  ray  father's  servants,  and  he  had  never  played  in  the 
house  before. 

a  An.  1573,  June  10.  Antonius  Bacon  Coll.  Trin.  Convict.  ! 
i.  admissus  in  matriculant  Acad.  Cantabr. 

Franciscus  Bacon  Coll.  Trin.  Convict,  i.  admissus  in  ma- 
tricuhim  academic  Cantabr.  eodem  die  et  anno.  (Regr. 
Jttad.) 


both  admitted  of  Trinity  College,  under  the  care 
of  Dr.  John  Whitgift,4  a  friend  of  the  lord  keep 
er's,  then  master  of  the  college,  afterwards  Arch 
bishop  of  Canterbury,  and  distinguished  through 
life,  not  only  for  his  piety,  but  for  his  great  learn 
ing,  and  unwearied  exertions  to  promote  the  public 
good. 

What  must  have  passed  in  his  youthful, 
thoughtful,  ardent  mind,  at  this  eventful  moment, 
when  he  first  quitted  his  father's  house  to  engage 
in  active  life  ]  What  must  have  been  his  feel 
ings  when  he  approached  the  university,  and  saw, 
in  the  distance,  the  lofty  spires,  and  towers,  and 
venerable  walls,  raised  by  intellect  and  piety, 
"and  hollowed  by  the  shrines  where  the  works 
of  the  mighty  dead  are  preserved  and  reposed,5 
and  by  the  labours  of  the  mighty  living,  with 
joint  forces  directing  their  strength  against  nature 
herself,  to  take  her  high  towers,  and  dismantle 
her  fortified  holds,  and  thus  enlarge  the  borders 
of  man's  dominion,  so  far  as  Almighty  God  of  his 
goodness  shall  permit  T'6 

"  As  water,"  he  says,  "  whether  it  be  the  dew 
of  heaven,  or  the  springs  of  the  earth,  doth  scatter 
and  lose  itself  in  the  ground,  except  it  be  collected 
into  some  receptacle,  where  it  may  by  union 
comfort  and  su*tain  itself,  and -for  that  cause  the 
industry  of  man  hath  made  and  framed  spring 
heads,  conduits,  cisterns,  and  pools,  which  men 
have  accustomed  likewise  to  beautify  and  adorn 
with  accomplishments  of  magnificence  and  state, 
as  well  as  of  use  and  necessity  ;  so  this  excellent 
liquor  of  knowledge,  whether  it  descend  from 
divine  inspiration,  or  spring  from  human  sense, 
would  soon  perish  and  vanish  to  oblivion,  if  it  were 
not  preserved  in  books,  traditions,  conferences,  and 
places  appointed ;  as  universities,  colleges,  and 
schools,  for  the  receipt  and  comforting  of  the 
same.  All  tending  to  quietness  and  privateness 
of  life,  and  discharge  of  cares  and  troubles  ;  much 
like  the  stations  which  Virgil  prescribeth  for  the 
hiving  of  bees : 

Principio  sedes  apibus  statioque  petenda, 
Quo  neque  sit  ventis  aditus,  etc. 


*  Seethe  Biog.  Hrit.  In  1565,  Whitgift  so  distinguished 
himself  in  the  pulpit,  that  the  lord  keeper  recommended  him 
to  the  queen. 

s  But  the  works  touching  &oofcs  are  chiefly  two  ;  first,  Libra 
ries,  wherein,  as  in  famous  shrines,  the  relics  of  the  an 
cient  saints,  full  of  virtue,  are  reposed.  Secondly.  New  Edi 
tions  of  Authors,  with  correct  impression*;  more  faithful 
Translations,  more  profitable  glosses,  more  diligent  annotations; 
with  the  like  train  furnished  and  adorned. 

In  a  letter  to  Sir  Thomas  Bodley,  he  says,  "  and  the  second 
copy  I  have  sent  unto  you,  not  only  in  good  affection,  but  in 
a  kind  of  congruity,  in  regard  of  your  great  and  rare  desert 
of  learning.  For  books  are  the  shrines  where  the  saint  is,  or 
is  believed  to  be.  And  you,  having  built  an  ark  to  save 
learning  from  deluge,  deserve  propriety  in  any  new  instru 
ment  or  engine,  whereby  learning  should  be  improved  or  ad 
vanced.  "—Steph.  19. 

s  Nor  doth  our  trumpet  summon,  and  encourage  men  to 
tear  and  rend  one  another  with  contradictions  ;  and  in  a  civil 
rage  to  bear  arms,  and  wage  war  against  themselves;  but 
rather,  a  peace  concluded  between  them,  they  may  with 
joint  force  direct  their  strength  against  Nature  herself;  and 
take  her  high  towers,  and  dismantle  her  fortified  holds  ;  and 
thus  enlarge  the  borders  of  man's  dominion,  so  far  as  Al 
mighty  God  in  his  goodness  shall  permit. — Jldii.  Learn. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xix 


Such  were  his  imaginations  of  the  tranquillity 
and  occupations  in  our  universities. 

He  could  not  long  have  resided  in  Cambridge 
before  he  must  have  discovered  his  erroneous  no 
tions  of  the  mighty  living,  and  of  the  pursuits  in 
which  they  were  engaged.  Instead  of  students 
ready  at  all  times  to  acquire  any  sort  of  know 
ledge,  he  found  himself  "  amidst  men  of  sharp 
and  strong  wits,  and  abundance  of  leisure,  and 
small  variety  of  reading,  their  wits  being  shut 
up  in  the  cells  of  a  few  authors,  chiefly  Aristotle 
their  dictator,  as  their  persons  were  shut  up  in 
the  cells  of  monasteries  and  colleges  ;  and  know 
ing  little  history,  either  of  nature  or  time,  did, 
out  of  no  great  quantity  of  matter,  and  infinite 
agitation  of  wit,  spin  cobwebs  of  learning,  admi 
rable  for  the  fineness  of  thread  and  work,  but  of 
no  substance  or  profit."1 

Instead  of  the  university  being  formed  for  the 

discovery  of  truths,  he  saw  that  its  object  was 

merely  to  preserve  and  diffuse  the  knowledge  of 

our  predecessors :  instead  of  general  inquiry,  he 

found  that  all  studies  were  confined  to  Aristotle 

who  was  considered  infallible  in  philosophy,  < 

dictator  to  command,  not  a  consul   to  advise ; 

the  lectures  both  in  private  in  the  colleges,  anc 

in  public  in  the  schools,  being  but  expositions  of 

his  text,  and  comments  upon  his  opinions,  helc 

as  authentic  as  if  they  had  been  given  under  th 

seal  of  the  pope.3     Their  infallibility,  however 

he  was  not  disposed  to  acknowledge.  Whilst  in  th< 

university  he  formed  his  dislike  of  the  philosophy 

of  Aristotle,  not  for  the  worthlessness  of  the  au 

thor,  to  whose  gigantic  intellect  he  ever  ascribec 

all  high  attributes,  but  for  the  unfruitfulness  ol 

his  method,  being  a  philosophy,  as  he  was  won 

to  say,  strong  for  disputations  and  contentions, 

but  barren  for  the  production  of  works  for  th 

benefit  and  use  of  man ;  which,  according  to  Ba 

con's  opinion,  is  the  only  test  of  the  purity  of  ou 

:    motives  for  acquiring  knowledge  and  of  the  valu 

of  knowledge  when  acquired;  "  Men,"  he  says 

"  have  entered  into  a  desire  of  knowledge  some 

times  from  a  natural  curiosity  and  inquisitive  ap 

petite ;  sometimes  to  entertain  their  minds  wit 

variety  and  delight ;  sometimes  for  ornament  an 

reputation ;  sometimes  to  enable  them  to  victor 

of  wit  and  contradiction,  and  most  times  for  lucr 

and  profession ;  and  seldom  sincerely  to  give 

true  account  of  their  gift  of  reason,  for  the  benef 

and   use   of  man: — as  if  there  were   sought  i 

i  See  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  under  Contentioi 
Learning.     See  Gibbon's   Memoirs.     See  vol.  viii.  Londf 
Magazine,  page  509.     Let  him  who  is  fond  of  indulging  in 
dream-like  existence  go  to  Oxford,  and  stay  there  ;  let  hi 
study  this  magnificent  spectacle,  the  same  under  all  aspect 
with  its  mental  twilight  tempering  the  glare  of  noontide.  < 
mellowing  the  shadowy  moonlight ;  let  him  wander  in  h 
sylvan  suburbs,  or  linger  in  her  cloistered  halls;  but  let  him 
not  catch  the  din  of  scholars  or  teachers,  or  dine  or  sup 
with  tliem,  or  speak  a  word  to  any  of  the  privileged  inha 
bitants  ;  for  if  he  does,  the  spell  will  be  broken,  the  poetry 
and  the  religion   gone,  and  the   place  of  enchantment  will 
molt  from  his  embrace  into  thin  air. 

»  See  Advancement  of  Learning,  under  Credulity,  p.  000. 

»  Tennison.  4  Rawley — Tennison. 


nowledge  a  couch  whereupon  to  rest  a  search- 

g  and  restless  spirit;  or  a  terrace  for  a  wander- 

g  and  variable  mind  to  walk  up  and  down,  with 

fair  prospect;  or  a  tower  of  state  for  a  proud 

ind  to  raise  itself  upon ;  or  a  fort  or  command- 

ng  ground  for  strife  and  contention ;  or  a  shop 

r  profit  and  sale ;  and  not  a  rich  storehouse  for 

e  glory  of  the  Creator  and  the  relief  of  man's 

state." 

It  was  not  likely  that,  with  such  sentiments,  he 
ould  meet  with  much  sympathy  in  the  univer- 
ity.  It  was  still  less  probable  that  the  antipathy 
y  which  he  was  opposed  would  check  the  anlo 
f  his  powerful  mind.  He  went  right  onward  in 
is  course,  unmoved  by  the  disapprobation  of 
nen  who  turned  from  inquiries  which  they  noi- 
her  encouraged  nor  understood:  and,  s  ii 
hrough  the  mists,  by  a  light  refracted  from  br 
ow  the  horizon,  that  knowledge  must  be  raisci 
>n  other  foundations,  and  built  with  other  mate- 
ials  than  had  been  used  through  a  long  tract  of 
nany  centuries,  he  continued  his  inquiries  into 
he  laws  of  nature,5  and  planned  his  immortal 
work  upon  wrhich  he  laboured  during  the  greater 
:>art  of  his  life,  and  ultimately  published  when 
le  was  chancellor,  saying,  "  I  have  held  up  a 
ight  in  the  obscurity  of  philosophy ;  which  will 
>e  seen  centuries  after  I  am  dead."6 

After  two  years  residence  he  quitted  the  uni 
versity  with  the  conviction  not  only  that  these 
seminaries  of  learning  were   stagnant,  but  that 
they  were  opposed  to  the  advancement  of  know 
ledge.     "  In  the  universities,"   he  says,  "  they 
learn  nothing  but  to  believe :  first  to  believe  that 
others  know  that  which  they  know  not ;  and  alter, 
themselves   know  that  which  they  know   not. 
They  are  like  a  becalmed  ship  ;  they  never  in  rye 
but  by  the  wind  of  other  men's  breath,  and  have 
no  oars  of  their  own  to  steer  withal  :"7  and  in  Ids 
Novum  Organum,  which  he  published  whrn  he 
was  chancellor,  he  repeats  what  he  had  said  when 
a  boy.    "  In  the  universities,  all  things  are  found 
opposite  to  the  advancement  of  the  sciences  ;  for 
the  readings  and  exercises  are  here  so  man  no; 
that  it  cannot  easiiy  come  into  any  one's  mim 
think  of  things  out  of  the  common  road  : 
here  and  there,  one  should  venture  to  use  a  li.<< 
of  judging,  he  can   only  impose  the  task  upon 
himself  without  obtaining   assistance  from   J 
fellows ;  and  if  he  could  dispense  with  this, 
will  still  find  his  industry  and  resolution  a  >rreV. 
hinderance  to  his  fortune.  For  the  studies  of  men 
in  such  places  are  confined,  and  pinned  down  f 

s  I  remember  in  Trinity  College  in  Cambridge,  then,  v 
an  upper  chamber,  which  being  thought  weak  in  th  ;  r 
of  it,  was  supported  by  a  pillar  of  iron  of  the  bigness  of    * 
arm  in  the  midst  of  the  chamber;  which  if  you  had  Pi 
it  would  make  a  little  flat  noise  in  the  room  where  it 
struck,  but  it  would  make  a  great  bomb  in  the  chambe 
neath.— Sylva 

s  See  the  dedication  of  the  Novum  Organum  to  the  km?. 
"Mortuus  fortasse  id  efferero.  ut  ilia  postentatl,  nova  hac 
accensa  face  in  philcsophia-  tenebris.  perlucere  possmt. 

i  See  the  tract  in  Praise  of  Knowledge,  p.  006. 


XX 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


the  writings  of  certain  authors;  from  which,  if 
any  man  happens  to  differ,  he  is  presently  repre 
hended  as  a  disturber  and  innovator."1 

Whether  the  intellectual  gladiatorship  by  which 
students  in  the  universities  of  England  are  now 
stimulated,  then  prevailed,  does  not  appear,  but 
his  dislike  of  this  motive  he  early  and  always 
avowed.  "  It  is,"  he  says,  "  an  unavoidable  de 
cree  with  us  ever  to  retain  our  native  candour  and 
simplicity,  and  not  attempt  a  passage  to  truth 
under  the  conduct  of  vanity ;  for,  seeking  real 
nature  with  all  her  fruits  about  her,  we  should 
think  it  a  betraying  of  our  trust  to  infect  such  a 
subject  either  with  an  ambitious,  an  ignorant,  or 
any  other  faulty  manner  of  treating  it."2 

Some  years  after  Bacon  had  quitted  Cambridge, 
he  published  his  opinions  upon  the  defects  of 
universities ;  in  which,  after  having  warned  the 
community  that,  as  colleges  are  established  for 
the  communication  of  the  knowledge  of  our  pre 
decessors,  there  should  be  a  college  appropriated 
to  the  discovery  of  new  truths,  a  living  spring  to 
mix  with  the  stagnant  waters.  "  Let  it,"  he 
says,  "  be  remembered  that  there  is  not  any  col 
legiate  education  of  statesmen,  and  that  this  has 
not  only  a  malign  influence  upon  the  growth  of 
sciences,  but  is  prejudicial  to  states  and  govern 
ments,  and  is  the  reason  why  princes  find  a  soli 
tude  in  regard  of  able  men  to  serve  them  in  causes 
of  state."3 


i  Ax.  90.  lib.  i. 

*  See  the  chapter  on  Vanity,  in  the  admirable  work, 
"Search's  Light  of  Nature:"  where  the  distinction  be 
tween  the  love  of  excelling  and  the  love  of  excellence,  as 
a  motive  for  acquiring  knowledge,  is  fully  explained. 

s  Bacon  says,  First,  therefore,  amongst  so  many  great 
foundations  of  colleges  in  Europe,  I  find  strange  that  they 
are  all  dedicated  to  professions,  and  none  left  free  to  arts 
and  sciences  at  large.  And  this  I  take  to  bo  a  great  cause, 
that  hath  hindered  the  progression  of  learning,  because 
these  fundamental  knowledges  have  been  studied  but  in 
passage.  For  if  you  will  have  a  tree  bear  more  fruit  than 
it  hath  used  to  do,  it  is  not  any  thing  you  can  do  to  the 
boughs,  but  it  is  the  stirring  of  the  earth,  and  putting  new 
mould  about  the  roots,  that  must  work  it.  Neither  is  it  to 
be  forgotten,  that  this  dedicating  of  foundations  and  dota 
tions  to  professory  learning,  hath  not  only  had  a  malign  as 
pect  and  influence  upon  the  growth  of  sciences,  but  hath 
also  been  prejudicial  to  states  and  governments.  For  hence 
it  proceedeth  that  princes  find  a  solitude  in  regard  of  able 
;neti  to  serve  them  in  causes  of  state,  because  there  is  no 
education  collegiate  which  is  free,  where  such  as  were  so 
disposed  might  give  themselves  to  histories,  modern  lan 
guages,  books  of  policy  and  civil  discourse,  and  oilier  the 
like  enablements  unto  service  of  state.  This  truth,  con 
firmed  by  daily  experience,  was,  fifty  years  after  his  death, 
repeated  by  Milton,  who  indignantly  says,  '"when  young 
men  quit  tlie  university  for  the  trade  of  law,  they  ground 
their  purposes,  not  on  the  prudent  and  heavenly  contem 
plation  of  justice  and  equity,  which  was  never  taught  them, 
but  on  the  promising  and  pleasing  thoughts  of  litigious 
terms,  fat  contentions,  and  flowing  fees  :  and  if  they  quit  it 
for  state  affairs,  they  betake  themselves  to  this  trust  with 
souls  so  unprincipled  in  virtue  and  true  generous  breeding, 
that  flattery,  and  court-shifts,  and  tyrannous  aphorisms  ap 
pear  to  them  the  highest  points  of  wisdom.  After  having 
prescribed  the  proper  order  of  education,  he  adds,  The  next 
cemoval  must  be  to  the  study  of  politics  ;  to  know  the  be 
ginning,  end,  and  reasons  of  political  societies;  that  they 
may  not  in  a  dangerous  fit  of  the  commonwealth  be  such 
poor,  shaken,  uncertain  reeds,  of  such  a  tottering  con 
science,  as  many  of  our  great  counsellors  have  lately  shown 
themselves,  but  steadfast  pillars  of  the  state.  After  this 
they  are  to  drive  into  the  grounds  of  law  and  legal  justice, 
delivered  first,  and  with  best  warrant  to  Moses,  and  as  far 
as  human  prudence  can  be  trusted,  in  those  extolled  remains 
of  Grecian  lawgivers,  Lycurgus,  Solon,  &c.  and  thence  to 


These  warnings  seem  to  have  been  disregard 
ed,  and  the  art  of  governing,  not  a  ship,  which 
would  not  be  attempted  without  a  knowledge  of 
navigation,  but  the  ship  of  the  state,  is  intrusted, 
not  to  a  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  human 
nature,  but  to  the  knowledge  of  Latin  and  Greek 
and  verbal  criticisms  upon  the  dead  languages."4 

And  what  has  been  the  result?  During  the 
last  two  centuries  one  class  of  statesmen  has  re 
sisted  all  improvement,  and  their  opponents  have 
been  hurried  into  intemperate  alterations :  whilst 
philosophy,  lamenting  these  contentions,  has,  in 
stead  of  advancing  the  science  of  government, 
been  occupied  in  counteracting  laws  founded  upon 
erroneous  principles ;  erroneous  commercial  laws ; 
erroneous  laws  against  civil  and  religious  liber 
ty  ;  and  erroneous  criminal  laws.4 

80  deeply  was  Bacon  impressed  with  the  mag 
nitude  of  this  evil,  that  by  his  will  he  endowed 
two  lectures  in  either  of  the  universities,  by  «  a 
lecturer,  whether  stranger  or  English,  provided 
he  is  not  professed  in  divinity,  law,  or  physic." 

The  subject  of  universities,  and  the  importance 
to  the  community  and  to  the  advancement  of  sci 
ence,  that  the  spring  should  not  be  poisoned  or 
polluted,  was  ever  present  to  his  mind, — and,  in 
the  decline  of  his  life,  he  prepared  the  plan  of  a 
college  for  the  knowledge  of  the  works  and  cre 
ations  of  God,  "  from  the  cedar  of  Libanus  to  the 
moss  that  groweth  out  of  the  wall ;"  but  the  plan 
was  framed  upon  a  model  so  vast,  that,  without 
the  purse  of  a  prince  and  the  assistance  of  a  peo 
ple,  all  attempts  to  realize  it  must  be  vain  and 
hopeless.  Some  conception  of  his  gorgeous  mind 
in  the  formation  of  this  college,  may  appear  even 
at  the  entrance. 

"  We  have  (he  says)  two  very  long  and  fair 
galleries  :  and  in  one  of  these  we  place  patterns 
and  samples  of  all  manner  of  the  more  rare  and 
excellent  inventions;  in  the  other  we  place  the 
statues  of  all  principal  inventors.  There  we  have 
the  statue  of  your  Columbus,  that  discovered  the 
West  Indies ;  also  the  inventor  of  ships ;  your 
monk  that  was  the  inventor  of  ordnance  and  of 
gunpowder ;  the  inventor  of  music ;  the  inventor 
of  letters  ;  the  inventor  of  printing ;  the  inventor 
of  observations  of  astronomy;  the  inventor  of 
works  in  metal;  the  inventor  of  glass;  the  in 
ventor  of  silk  of  the  worm  ;  the  inventor  of  wine ; 
the  inventor  of  corn  and  bread ;  the  inventor  of 
sugars ;  and  all  these  by  more  certain  tradition 
than  you  have.  Upon  every  invention  of  value, 
we  erect  a  statue  to  the  inventor,  and  give  him  a 
liberal  and  honourable  reward.  These  statues 
are  some  of  brass ;  some  of  marble  and 

all  the  Roman  edicts  and  tables  with  their  Justin.  • 
so  to  the  Saxon  laws  of  England.     Milton,  Educa 
i.  p.  270. 

«  "Such,"  says  Milton,  "are  the  errors,  such  II 
of  mispending  our  prime  youth  at  schools  and  un 
as  we  do,  either  in  learning  mere  Avords,  or  su< 
chiefly  as  were  better  unlearned."    See  his  Tract  c 
tion 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xxi 


stone;  some  of  cedar  and  other  special  woods 
gilt  and  adorned ;  some  of  iron ;  some  of  silver ; 
some  of  gold."1 

Such  is  the  splendour  of  the  portico,  or  ante 
room.  Passing  beyond  it,  every  thing  is  to  be 
found  which  imagination  can  conceive  or  reason 
suggest.3 

»  This  entr^rtte  to  Bacon's  college  always  forces  itself  on 
my  mind  when  I  visit  the  University  Library  of  Cambridge ; 
in  which  I  see  the  portrait  of  Mr.  Thomas  Nicholson,  known 
by  the  name  of  Maps,  the  proprietor  of  a  circulating  library, 
a  laborious  pioneer  in  literature.  Under  his  feet  are  some 
relics  from  classic  ground,  more  valuable,  perhaps,  for  their 
antiquity  than  for  their  beauty.  Delightful  as  is  the  love 
of  antiquity,  this  artificial  retrospective  extension  of  our 
existence,  (see  Shakspeare's  Sonnet,  123,)  might  it  not  be 
adorned,  in  the  present  times,  by  casts  from  the  Elgin  mar 
bles,  of  which  the  cost  does  not  exceed  20(M.  By  one  of  the 
universities  (I  think  it  is  of  Dublin)  these  casts  have  been 
procured.  Let  any  parent  of  the  mind,  who  considers  the 
various  modes  by  which  the  heart  of  a  nation  is  formed, 
(which  is  beautifully  described  in  Ramsden's  sermon  on  the 
Cessation  of  Hostilities,)  look  in  Boydell's  Shakspeare,  at 
Barry's  Cordelia,  to  be  found,  most  probably,  in  the  Fitz- 
william  collection  :  and  let  him  compare  it  with  the  magni 
ficent  affecting  fainting  female  in  the  Elgin  marbles,  and  he 
will  see  the  benefit  which  would  result  from  the  university 
containing  these  valuable  relics. 

a  We  have  large  and  deep  caves  of  several  depths :  the 
deepest  are  sunk  six  hundred  fathom,  and  some  of  them  are 
digged  and  made  under  great  hills  and  mountains:  so  that 
if  you  reckon  together  the  depth  of  the  hill  and  the  depth 
of  the  cave,  they  are  (some  of  them)  above  three  miles 
deep ;  these  caves  we  call  the  lower  region,  and  we  use 
them  for  all  coagulations,  indurations,  refrigerations,  and 
conservations  of  bodies.  We  use  them  likewise  for  the 
imitation  of  natural  mines,  and  the  producing  also  of  new 
artificial  metals,  by  compositions  and  materials. 

We  have  high  towers,  the  highest  about  half  a  mile  in 
Ivight,  and  some  of  them  likewise  set  upon  high  mountains, 
so  that  the  vantage  of  the  hill  with  the  tower  is  in  the  high 
est  of  them  three  miles  at  least.  And  these  places  we  call 
the  upper  region.  We  use  these  towers,  according  to  their 
several  heights  and  situations,  for  insolation,  refrigeration, 
conservation,  and  for  the  view  of  divers  meteors,  as  winds, 
rain,  snow,  hail,  and  some  of  the  fiery  meteors. 

We  have  great  lakes,  both  salt  and  fresh;  whereof  we 
have  use  for  the  fish  and  fowl.  We  use  them  also  for  buri 
als  of  some  natural  bodies:  for  we  find  a  difference  in 
things  buried  in  earth,  or  in  air  below  the  earth ;  and  things 
buried  in  water.  We  have  also  some  rocks  in  the  midst  of  the 
sea ;  and  some  bays  upon  the  shore  for  some  works,  where 
in  is  required  the  air  and  vapour  of  the  sea.  We  have  like 
wise  violent  streams  and  cataracts,  which  serve  us  for 
many  motions:  and  likewise  engines  for  multiplying  and 
enforcing  of  wtods,  to  set  also  on  going  divers  motions. 

We  have  also  a  number  of  artificial  wells  and  fountains, 
made  in  imitation  of  the  natural  sources  and  baths ;  as 
tincted  upon  vitriol,  sulphur,  steel,  brass,  lead,  nitre,  and 
other  minerals. 

We  have  also  great  and  spacious,  houses,  where  we  imi 
tate  and  demonstrate  meteors,  as  snow,  hail,  rain,  some  ar 
tificial  rains  of  bodies,  and  not  of  water,  thunders,  light 
nings. 

We  have  also  certain  chambers,  which  we  call  chambers 
of  health,  where  we  qualify  the  air  as  we  think  good  and 
proper  for  the  cure  of  divers  diseases,  and  preservation  of 
health.  We  have  al?o  fair  and  large  baths  of  several  mix 
tures,  for  the  cure  of  diseases. 

We  have  also  large  and  various  orchards  and  gardens; 
wherein  we  do  not  so  much  respect  beauty,  as  variety  of 
ground  and  soil,  proper  for  divers  trees  and  herbs :  and 
some  very  spacious,  where  trees  and  berries  are  set,  where 
of  we  make  divers  kinds  of  drink,  besides  the  vineyards. 
In  these  we  practise  likewise  all  conclusions  of  grafting  and 
inoculating,  as  well  of  wild  trees  as  fruit  trees-,  which  pro- 
duceth  many  effects. 

We  have  also  furnaces  of  great  diversities,  and  that  keep 
preat  diversity  of  heats,  fierce  and  quick,  strong  and  con 
stant,  soft  and  mild,  Mown,  quiet,  dry,  moist,  and  the  like. 
But  above  all  we  have  heats,  in  imitation  of  the  sun's  and 
heavenly  bodies,  heats  that  pass  divers  inequalities,  and 
(as  it  were)  orbs,  prosrresses,  and  returns,  whereby  we  may 
produce  admirable  effects. 

We  procure  means  of  seeing  objects  afar  off,  as  in  the 
heaven,  and  remote  places;  and  represent  things  near  as 
afar  off,  and  thines  afar  off  as  near,  making  feigned  dis 
tances.  We  have  also  helps  for  the  sight,  far  above  specta 
cles  and  glasses. 

We  h;tve  also  parks  and  enclosures  of  all  sorts  of  beasts 
and  birds;  which  we  use  not  only  for  view  or  rareness,  but 


After  having  enumerated  ah  the  instruments 
of  knowledge,  "  such,"  he  says,  "  is  a  relation  of 
the  true  state  of  Solomon's  house,  the  end  of 
which  foundation  is  the  knowledge  of  causes, 
and  secret  motions  of  things ;  and  the  enlarging 
of  the  bounds  of  human  empire,  to  the  effecting 
of  all  things  possible." 

In  these  glorious  inventions  of  one  rich  mind, 
may  be  traced  much  of  what  bas  been  effected  in 
science  and  mechanics,  since  Bacon's  death,  and 
more  that  will  be  effected  during  the  next  two 
centuries. 

After  three  years'  residence  in  the  university, 
his  father  sent  him,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  to  Pa 
ris,  under  the  care  of  Sir  Amias  Paulett,  the 
English  ambassador  at  that  court:  by  whom, 
soon  after  his  arrival,  he  was  intrusted  with  a 
mission  to  the  queen,  requiring  both  secrecy  and 
despatch :  which  he  executed  with  such  ability 
as  to  gain  the  approbation  of  the  queen,  and  jus 
tify  Sir  Amias  in  the  choice  of  his  youthful  mes 
senger. 

From  the  confidence  thus  reposed  in  him,  and 
from  the  impression  made  upon  all  with  whom  he 
conversed  ;  upon  men  of  letters,  with  whom  he 
contracted  lasting  friendships ;  upon  grave  states 
men  and  learned  philosophers,  it  was  manifest 
that  the  promise  in  his  infancy  of  excellence,  whe 
ther  for  active  or  for  contemplative  life,  seemed 
beyond  the  most  sanguine  expectation  to  be  real 
ized.3 

After  the  appointment  of  Sir  Amias  Paulett's 
successor,  Bacon  travelled  into  the  French  pro 
vinces,  and  spent  some  time  at  Poictiers.  He 
prepared  a  work  upon  Ciphers,4  which  he  after- 

likewise   for  dissections  and  trials,  that  thereby  we  may 
take  light  what  may  be  wrought  upon  the  body  of  man. 

We  have  also  particular  pools  where  we  make  trials  upon 
fishes,  as  we  have  said  before  of  beasts  and  birds. 

We  have  also  places  for  breed  and  generation  of  those 
kinds  of  worms  and  flies  which  are  of  special  use,  such  as 
are  with  you  your  silk  worms  and  bees. 

We  have  also  precious  stones  of  all  kinds,  many  of  thorn 
of  great  beauty  and  unknown  ;  crystals  and  glasses  of  divers 
kinds.  We  represent  also  ordnance  and  instruments  of  war, 
and  engines  of  all  kinds;  and  likewise  new  mixtures  and 
compositions  of  gunpowder,  wildfires  burning  in  water 
and  unquenchable;  also  fireworks  of  all  variety,  both  for 
pleasure  and  use.  We  imitate  also  flights  of  birds;  we 
have  some  degrees  of  flying  in  the  air;  we  have  ships  and 
boats  for  going  under  water,  and  brooking  of  seas ;  also 
swimming  girdles  and  supporters. 

We  have  also  sound  houses,  where  we  practise  and  de 
monstrate  all  sounds,  and  their  generation.  We  have  har 
monies  which  you  have  not,  of  quarter  sounds,  and  lesser 
slides  of  sounds.  Divers  instruments  of  music,  likewise  to 
you  unknown,  some  sweeter  than  any  you  have ;  with 
bells  and  rings  that  are  dainty  and  sweet. 

We  have  also  a  mathematical  house,  where  are  all  instru 
ments,  as  well  of  geometry  as  astronomy,  exquisitely  made. 
We  have  also  houses  of  deceits  of  the  senses,  &.c.  &c. 

•3  It  is  a  fact  not  unworthy  of  notice,  that  an  eminent  ar 
tist,  to  whom,  when  in  Paris,  he  sat  for  his  portrait,  was  so 
!  conscious  of  his  inability  to  do  justice  to  his  extraordinary 
intellectual  endowments,  that  he  has  written  on  the  side  of 
his  picture  :  Si  tabula  darelur  disrna  animum  mallem. 

*  In  the  Augmentis  Scientiarum,  lib.  vi.  speaking  of  ci 
phers,  he  says,  Ut  vero  suspicio  omnis  absit,  aliud  inven- 
tum  subjiciemus,   quod   certe  ciam   adolescentuli  essemus 
Parisiis  excogitavimus,  nee    etiam    adhuc    visa    nobis  res 
:  digna  est  qua?  pereat.     Watts's  English  translation  of  this 
i  part  is  as  follows  :  But  that  jealousies  may  be  taken  away, 
!  we  will  annex  another  invention,  which,  in  truth,  we  de 

vised  in  our  youth,  \\ihen  we  were  at  Paris  :  and  is  a  thin? 
;  that  yet  seemeth  to  us  not  worthy  to  be  lost.    It  containeth 


XX11 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


wards  published,  with  an  outline  of  the  state  of 
Europe,  but  the  laws  of  sound  and  of  imagina 
tion  continued  to  occupy  his  thoughts.1 

Whilst  he  was  engaged  in  these  meditations 
his  father  died  suddenly,  on  the  20th  February, 
1579.  He  instantly  returned  to  England. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FROM  THE  DEATH  OF  HIS  FATHER  TILL  HE  ENGAGED 
IN  ACTIVE  LIFE. 

1580  to  1590. 

DISCOVERING,  upon  his  arrival  in  England,  that, 
by  the  sudden  death  of  his  father,  he  was  left  with 
out  a  sufficient  provision  to  justify  him  in  devot 
ing  his  life  to  contemplation,3  it  became  necessary 
for  him  to  select  some  pursuit  for  his  support,  "  to 
think  how  to  live,  instead  of  living  only  to  think."3 

the  highest  degree  of  cipher,  which  is  to  signify  omnia  per 
omnia,  yet  so,  as  the  writing  infolding,  may  bear  a  quintu 
ple  proportion  to  the  writing  infolded;  no  other  condition  or 
restriction  whatsoever  is  required. 

i  His  meditations  were  both  upon  natural  science  and  hu 
man  sciences,  as  Will  appear  from  the  following  facts. 

In  his  History  of  Life  and  Death,  speaking  of  the  differences 
between  youth  and  old  age,  and  having  enumerated  many 
of  them,  he  proceeds  thus  :  When  I  was  a  young  man  at 
Poictiors  in  France,  I  familiarly  conversed  with  a  young 
gentleman  of  that  country,  who  was  extremely  ingenious, 
hut  somewhat  talkative;  he  afterwards  became  a  person  of 
great  eminence.  This  gentleman  used  to  inveigh  against 
the  manners  of  old  people,  and  would  say,  that  if  one  could 
see  their  minds  as  well  as  their  bodies,  their  minds  would 
appear  as  deformed  as  their  bodies;  and  indulging  his 
own  humour,  he  pretended,  that  the  defects  of  old  men's 
minds,  in  some  measure  corresponded  to  the  defects  of  their 
bodies.  Thus,  dryness  of  the  skin,  he  said,  was  answered 
by  impudence;  hardness  of  the  viscera,  by  relentlcssness'; 
blear-eyes,  by  envy ;  and  an  evil  eye,  their  down  look,  and 
incurvation  of  the  body,  by  atheism,  as  no  longer,  says  he, 
looking  up  to  heaven  ;  the  trembling  and  shaking  of  the 
limbs,  by  unsteadiness  and  inconstancy;  the  bending  of 
their  fingers  as  to  lay  hold  of  something,  by  rapacity  and 
avarice;  the  weakness  of  their  knees,  by  tearfulness  ;  their 
wrinkles,  by  indirect  dealings  and  cunning,  &c. 

And  again,  for  echoes  upon  echoes,  there  is  a  rare  in 
stance  thereof  in  a  place  which  I  will  now  exactly  describe. 
It  is  some  three  or  four  miles  from  Paris,  near  a  town  called 
Pont-Charenton  ;  and  some  bird-bolt  shot  or  more  from  the 
river  of  Sein.  The  room  is  a  chapel  or  small  church.  The 
walls  all  standing,  both  at  the  sides  and  at  the  ends.  Speak 
ing  at  the  one  end,  I  did  hear  it  return  the  voice  thirteen 
several  times.  (Sylva,  art.  249.) 

There  are  certain  letters  that  an  echo  will  hardly  express ; 
as  S  for  one,  especially  being  principal  in  a  wo'rd.  I  re 
member  well,  that  when  I  went  to  the  echo  at  Pont-Cha 
renton,  there  was  an  old  Parisian,  that  took  it  to  be  the  work 
of  spirits,  and  of  good  spirits.  For,  said  he,  call  "Satan," 
and  the  echo  will  not  deliver  back  the  devil's  name  ;  but  will 
say,  "  va  t'en  ;"  which  is  as  much  in  French  as  "  apage," 
or  avoid.  And  thereby  I  did  hap  to  find,  that  an  echo  would 
not  return  an  S,  being  but  a  hissing  and  an  interior  sound. 
(Art.  750.) 

So  too  the  nature  of  imagination  continued  to  interest 
him.  In  the  Sylva,  art.  986,  he  says,  the  relations  touch 
ing  the  force  of  imagination  and  the  secret  instincts  of  na 
ture  are  so  uncertain,  as  they  require  a  great  deal  of  exami 
nation  ere  we  conclude  upon  them.  I  would  have  it  firs*! 
thoroughly  inquired,  whether  there  be  any  secret  passases 
of  sympathy  between  persons  of  near  blood;  as  parents, 
children,  brothers,  sisters,  nurse-children,  husbands,  wives, 
<fcc.  There  be  many  reports  in  history,  that  upon  the 
death  of  persons  of  such  nearness,  men  have  had  an  inward 
feeling  of  it.  I  myself  remember,  that  being  in  Paris,  and 
my  father  dying  in  London,  two  or  three  days  before  my 
father's  death  I  had  a  dream,  which  I  told  to  divers  English 
gentlemen,  that  my  father's  house  in  the  country  was  plas 
tered  all  over  with  black  mortar. 

•J  Rawley  Biog.  Brit. 

3  Thi&  is  an  expression  of  his  own,  I  forget  where. 


Law  and  politics  were  the  two  roads  open  be 
fore  him ;  in  both  his  family  had  attained  opulence 
and  honour.  Law,  the  dry  and  thorny  study  of 
law,  had  but  little  attraction  for  his  discursive  and 
imaginative  mind.  With  the  hope,  therefore,  that, 
under  the  protection  of  his  political  friends,  and 
the  queen's  remembrance  of  his  father,  and  notice 
of  him  when  a  child,  he  might  escape  from  the 
mental  slavery  of  delving  in  this  laborious  pro 
fession,  he  made  a  great  effort  to  secure  some  small 
competence,  by  applying  to  Lord  Burleigh  to  re 
commend  him  to  the  queen,  and  interceding  with 
Lady  Burleigh  to  urge  his  suit  with  his  uncle.4 

But  his  application  was  unsuccessful ;  the  queen 
and  the  lord  treasurer,  distinguished  as  they  were 
for  penetration  into  character,  being  little  disposed 

4  My  singular  good  lord, 

My  humble  duty  remembered,  and  my  humble  thanks  pre 
sented  for  your  lordship's  favour  and  countenance,  which  it 
pleased  your  lordship,  at  my  being  with  you,  to  vouchsafe 
me,  above  my  degree  and  desert :  my  letter  hath  no  further 
errand  but  to  commend  unto  your  lordship  the  remembrance 
of  my  suit,  which  then  I  moved  unto  you;  whereof  it  also 
pleased  your  lordship  to  give  me  good  hearing,  so  far  forth  as 
to  promise  to  tender  it  unto  her  majesty,  and  withal  to  add, 
in  behalf  of  it,  that  which  I  may  better  deliver  by  letter  than 
by  speech;  which  is,  that  although  it  must  be  confessed  that 
the  request  is  rare  and  unaccustomed,  yet  if  it  be  observed 
how  few  there  be  which  fall  in  with  the  study  of  the  common 
laws,  either  being  well  left  or  friended,  or  at  their  own  free 
election,  or  forsaking  likely  success  in  other  studies  of  more 
delight  and  no  less  preferment,  or  setting  hand  thereunto 
early,  without  waste  of  years  ;  upon  such  survey  made,  it 
may  be  my  case  may  not  seem  ordinary,  no  more  than  my 
suit,  and  so  more  beseeming  unto  it.  As  I  forced  myself  to 
say  this  in  excuse  of  my  motion,  lest  it  should  appear  unto 
your  lordship  altogether  indiscreet  and  unadvised,  so  my 
iiope  to  obtain  it  resteth  only  upon  your  lordship's  good  affec 
tion  toward  me,  and  grace  with  her  majesty,  who,  methinks, 
needeth  never  to  call  for  the  experience  of  the  thing,  where 
she  hath  so  great  and  so  good  of  the  person  which  recom- 
mendethit.  According  towhich  trust  of  mine,  if  it  may  please 
your  lordship  both  herein  and  elsewhere  to  be  rny  patron, 
and  to  make  account  of  me,  as  one  in  whose  well-doing  your 
lordship  hath  interest,  albeit,  indeed,  your  lordship  hath  had 
place  to  benefit  many,  and  wisdom  to  make  due  choice  of 
lighting  places  for  your  goodness,  yet  do  I  not  fear  any  of 
your  lordship's  former  experiences  for  staying  my  thankful 
ness  borne  in  art,  howsoever  God's  good  pleasure  shall  enablo 
me  or  disable  me,  outwardly,  to  make  proof  thereof ;  for  I 
cannot  account  your  lordship's  service  distinct  from  that 
which  I  to  God  and  my  prince ;  the  performance  whereof 
to  best  proof  and  purpose  is  the  meeting  point  and  rendez 
vous  of  all  my  thoughts.  Thus  I  take  my  leave  of  your  lord 
ship,  in  humble  manner,  committing  you,  as  daily  in  my 
prayers,  so,  likewise,  at  this  present,  to  the  merciful  protec 
tion  of  the  Almighty. 

Your  most  dutiful  and  bounden  nephew, 
From  Grey's  Inn,  1*.  FRA. 

this  16th  of  September,  1580. 

To  Lady  Burghley,  to  speak  for  him  to  her  lord. 
My  singular  good  lady, 

I  was  as  ready  to  shew  "myself  mindful  of  my  duty,  by 
waiting  on  your  ladyship,  at  your  being  in  town,  as  now  by 
writing,  had  I  not  feared  lest'your  ladyship's  short  stay,  anil 
quick  return  might  well  spare  me,  that  came  of  no  earnest 
errand.  I  am  not  yet  greatly  perfect  in  ceremonies  of  court, 
whereof,  I  know,  your  ladyship  knoweth  both  the  right  use, 
and  true  value.  My  thankful  and  serviceable  mind  shall  be 
always  like  itself,  howsoever  it  vary  from  the  common  dis 
guising.  Your  ladyship  is  wise,  and  of  good  nature  to  dis 
cern  from  what  mind  every  action  proceedeth,  and  to  esteem 
of  it  accordingly.  This  is  all  the  message  which  my  letter 
hath  at  this  time  to  deliver,  unless  it  please  your  ladyship 
further  to  give  me  leave  to  make  this  request  unto  you,  that 
it  would  please  your  good  ladyship,  in  your  letters,  where 
with  you  visit  my  good  lord,  to  vouchsafe  the  mention  and 
recommendation  of  my  suit ;  wherein  your  ladyship  shall 
bind  me  more  unto  you  than  I  can  look  ever  to  be  able  suffi 
ciently  to  acknowledge.  Thus,  in  humble  manner,  I  take  my 
leave  of  your  ladyship,  committing  you,  as  daily  in  my 
prayers,  so,  likewise,  at  this  present,  to  the  merciful  provi 
dence  of  the  Almighty. 

Your  ladyship's  most  dutiful  and  bounden  nephew, 
From  Grey's  Inn,  B.  FBA. 

this  16th  of  September,  1580. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


XX1XI 


to  encourage  him  to  rely  upon  others  rather  than 
upon  himself,  and  to  venture  on  the  quicksands  of 
politics,  instead  of  the  certain  profession  of  the  law, 
in  which  the  queen  had,  when  he  was  a  child,  pre 
dicted  that  he  would  one  day  be  her  "  lord  keeper.'' 

To  law,  therefore,  he  was  reluctantly  obliged 
to  devote  himself,  and  as  it  seems,  in  the  year  1580, 
he  was  admitted  a  student  of  Gray's  Inn,  of  which 
society  his  father  had  for  many  years  been  an  il 
lustrious  member.1 

Having1  engaged  in  this  profession,  he,  as  was 
to  be  expected,  encountered  and  subdued  the  diffi 
culties  and  obscurities  of  the  science  in  which  he 
was  doomed  to  labour,  and  in  which  he  after 
wards  was  eminently  distinguished,  not  only  by 
his  professional  exertions  and  honours,  but  by 
his  valuable  works  upon  different  practical  parts 
of  the  law,  and  upon  the  improvement  of  the  sci 
ence,  by  exploring  the  principles  of  universal  jus 
tice — the  laws  of  law. 

Extensive  as  were  his  legal  researches,  and  great 
as  was  his  legal  knowledge,  law  was,  however, 
but  an  accessory,  not  a  principal  study.2  It  was 
not  to  be  expected  that  his  mind  should  confine 
its  researches  within  the  narrow  and  perplexed 
study  of  precedents  and  authorities.  He  contracted 
his  sight,  when  necessary,  to  the  study  of  the  law, 
but  he  dilated  it  to  the  whole  circle  of  science,  and 
continued  his  meditations  upon  his  immortal  work, 
which  he  had  projected  when  in  the  university. 

This  course  of  legal  and  philosophical  research 
was  accompanied  with  such  sweetness  and  affa 
bility  of  deportment,  that  he  gained  the  affections 
of  the  whole  society,  and  the  kindness  he  expe 
rienced  was  not  lost  upon  him.  He  assisted  in  their 
festivities  ;  he  beautified  their  spacious  garden, 
and  raised  an  elegant  structure,  known  for  many 
years  after  his  death,  as  "  The  Lord  Bacon's  Lodg 
ings,"  in  which  at  intervals  he  resided  till  his  death. 

When  he  was  only  twenty-six  years  of  age,  he 
was  promoted  to  the  bench  ;  in  his  twenty-eighth 
year  he  was  elected  lent  reader;3  and  the  42d  of 
Elizabeth  he  was  appointed  double  reader. 

*  The  admission  book  at  Gray's  Inn  begins  in  the  year  1580 ; 
but  the  first  four  pages  have  been  torn  out.  Bacon's  name, 
however,  appears  in  the  list  of  members  of  the  society,  in  the 
year  1581 :  the  book  abounds  with  Lord  Bacon's  autographs. 

3  Contemplation  feels  no  hunger,  nor  is  sensible  of  any 
thirst,  but  of  that  after  knowledge.  How  fresh  and  exalted 
a  pleasure  did  David  find  from  his  meditation  in  the  divine 
law  !  all  the  day  long  it  was  the  theme  of  his  thoughts.  The 
affairs  of  state,  the  government  of  his  kingdom,  might  indeed 
employ,  but  it  was  this  only  that  refreshed  his  mind.  How 
short  of  this  are  the  delights  of  the  epicure  !  how  vastly  dis 
proportionate  are  the  pleasures  of  the  eating  and  of  the  think 
ing  man  !  indeed  as  different  as  the  silence  of  an  Archimedes 
in  the  study  of  a  problem,  and  the  stillness  of  a  sow  at  her 
wash. — South. 

Being  returned  from  travel  he  applied  himself  to  the  study 
of  the  common  law,  which  he  took  upon  him  to  be  his  pro 
fession.  Notwithstanding  that  he  professed  the  law  for  his 
livelihood  and  subsistence,  yet  his  heart  and  affection  was 
more  carried  after  the  affairs  and  places  of  state  ;  for  which, 
if  the  majesty  royal  then  had  been  pleased,  he  was  most  fit. 
The  narrowness  of  his  circumstances  obliged  him  to  think  of 
some  profession  for  a  subsistence  ;  and  he  applied  himself, 
more  through  necessity  than  choice,  to  the  study  of  the  com 
mon  law,  in  which  he  obtained  to  great  excellence,  though 
he  made  that  (as  himself  said)  but  as  an  accessory,  and  not 
bis  principal  study. — Rairley. 

a  Dugdalc,  in  his  account  of  Bacon,  says,  in  30th  Elizabeth, 


His  agreeable  occupations,  and  extensive  views 
of  science,  during  his  residence  in  Gray's  Inn,  did 
not  check  his  professional  exertions.  In  the  year 
1586,  he  applied  to  the  lord  treasurer  to  be  called 
within  the  bar;4  and  in  his  thirtieth  year  was 
sworn  queen's  counsel  learned  extraordinary,5  an 
honour  which,  until  that  time,  had  never  been  con 
ferred  upon  any  member  of  the  profession. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FROM    HIS  ENTRANCE    INTO    PUBLIC    LIFE    TILL   HIS 
DISAPPOINTMENT  AS  SOLICITOR. 

1590  to  1596. 

HE  thus  entered  on  public  life,  submitting,  as  a 
lawyer  and  a  statesman,  to  worldly  occupations 

(being  then  but  twenty-eight  year.s  of  age)  the  honourable  so 
ciety  of  Gray's  Inn  chose  him  for  ttfeir  lent  reader.  Orig.  p.  295. 

*  In  the  time  of  Lord  Bacon  there  was  a  distinction  between 
outer  and  inner  barristers.  By  the  following  letter  in  1586, 
it  will  appear  that  he  applied  to  the  lord  treasurer  that  he 
might  be  called  within  bars. 

To  the  right  honourable  the  lord  treasurer.* 
My  very  good  lord, 

I  take  it  as  an  undoubted  sign  of  your  lordship's  favour 
unto  me  that,  being  hardly  informed  of  me,  you  took  occasion 
rather  of  good  advice  than  of  evil  opinion  thereby.  And  if 
your  lordship  had  grounded  only  upon  the  said  information 
of  theirs.  I  might  and  would  truly  have  upholden  that  few 
of  the  matters  were  justly  objected;  as  the  very  circum 
stances  do  induce,  in  that  they  were  delivered  by  men  that 
did  misaffect  me,  and,  besides,  were  to  give  colour  to  their 
own  doings.  But  because  your  lordship  did  mingle  there 
with  both  a  late  motion  of  mine  own,  and  somewhat  which 
you  had  otherwise  heard,  I  know  it  to  be  my  duty  (and  so  do 
I  stand  affected)  rather  to  prove  your  lordship's  admonition 
effectual  in  my  doings  hereafter,  than  causeless  by  excusing 
what  is  past.  And  yet  (with  your  lordship's  pardon  humbly 
asked)  it  may  please  you  to  remember,  that  I  did  endeavour  to 
set  forth  that  said  motion  in  such  sort  as  it  might  breed  no 
harder  effect  than  a  denial.  And  I  protest  simply  before  God, 
that  I  sought  therein  an  ease  in  coming  within  bars,  and  not 
any  extraordinary  or  singular  note  of  favour.  And  for  that  your 
lordship  may  otherwise  have  heard  of  me  it  shall  make  me 
more  wary  and  circumspect  in  carriage  of  myself;  indeed  I 
find  in  my  simple  observation,  that  they  which  live  as  it  were 
in  umbra  and  not  in  public  or  frequent  action,  how  mode 
rately  and  modestly  soever  they  behave  themselves,  yet  la- 
borant  invidia  ;  I  find  also  that  such  persons  as  are  of  nature 
bashful,  (as  myself  is,)  whereby  they  want  that  plausible 
familiarity  which  others  have,  are  often  mistaken  for  proud. 
But  once  I  know  well,  and  I  most  humbly  beseech  your  lord 
ship  to  believe,  that  arrogancy  and  overweening  is  so  far 
from  my  nature,  as  if  I  think  well  of  myself  in  any  thing  it 
is  in  this,  that  I  am  free  from  that  vice.  And  I  hope  upon 
this  your  lordship's  speech,  I  have  entered  into  those  consi 
derations,  as  my  behaviour  shall  no  more  deliver  me  for  other 
than  I  am.  And  so  wishing  unto  your  lordship  all  honour, 
and  to  myself  continuance  of  your  good  opinion,  with  mind 
and  means  to  deserve  it,  I  humbly  take  my  leave. 

Your  lordship's  most  bounden  nephew, 
Grey's  Inn,  FR.  BACON. 

this  6th  of  May,  1586. 

«  Rawley,  in  his  life,  says,  he  was,  after  a  while,  sworn  to 
the  queen's  counsel  learned  extraordinary ;  a  grace,  if  I  err 
not,  scarce  known  before.  "  He  was  counsel  learned  extra 
ordinary  to  his  majesty,  as  he  had  been  to  Queen  Elizabeth." 
Extract  from  Biographia  Britannica,  vol.  i.  page  373. — He 
distinguished  himself  no  less  in  his  practice,  which  was  very 
considerable;  and  after  discharging  the  office  of  reader  at 
Gray's  Inn,  which  he  did,  in  1588,  when  in  the  twenty-sixth 
year  of  his  age,  he  was  become  so  considerable,  that  the 
queen,  who  never  over  valued  any  man's  abilities,  thought 
fit  to  call  him  to  her  service  in  a  way  which  did  him  very  great 
honour,  by  appointing  him  her  counsel  learned  in  the  law- 
extraordinary  :  by  which,  though  she  contributed  abundantly 
to  his  reputation,  yet  she  added  but  very  little  to  his  fortune, 
as  indeed  in  this  respect  he  was  never  much  indebted  to  her 
majesty,  how  much  soever  he  might  be  in  all  others.  He, 
in  his  apology  respecting  Lord  Essex,  says,  "  They  sent  for 
us  of  the  learned  council." 

»  Lands.  MS.  li.  art.  5.  Orig. 


XXIV 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


and  the  pursuit  of  worldly  honours,  that,  sooner 
or  later,  he  might  escape  into  the  calm  regions  of 
philosophy. 

At  this  period  the  court  was  divided  into  two 
parties  :  at  the  head  of  the  one  were  the  two  Ce 
cils  ;  of  the  other,  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  and  after 
wards  his  son-in-law,  the  Earl  of  Essex. 

To  the  Cecils  Bacon  was  allied.  He  was  the 
nephew  of  Lord  Burleigh,  and  first  cousin  to  Sir 
Robert  Cecil,  the  principal  secretary  of  state;  but, 
connected  as-he  was  to  the  Cecils  by  blood,  his 
affections  were  with  Essex.  Generous,  ardent, 
and  highly  cultivated,  with  all  the  romantic  en 
thusiasm  of  chivalry,  and  all  the  graces  and  accom 
plishments  of  a  court,  Essex  was  formed  to  gain 
partisans,  and  attach  friends.  Attracted  by  his 
mind  and  character,  Bacon  could  have  but  little 
sympathy  with  Burleigh,  who  thought  £100  an 
extravagant  gratuity  to  the  author  of  the  Fairy 
Queen,  which  he  was  pleased  to  term  "  an  old 
song,"  and,  probably,  deemed  the  listeners  to  such 
songs  little  better  than  idle  dreamers.  There  was 
much  grave  learning  and  much  pedantry  at  court, 
but  literature  of  the  lighter  sort  was  regarded  with 
coldness,  and  philosophy  with  suspicion  :  instead, 
therefore,  of  uniting  himself  to  the  party  in  power, 
he  not  only  formed  an  early  friendship  himself 
with  Essex,  but  attached  to  his  service  his  brother 
Anthony,  who  had  returned  from  abroad,  with  a 
great  reputation  for  ability  and  a  knowledge  of 
foreign  affairs. 

This  intimacy  could  not  fail  to  excite  the  jea 
lousy  of  Lord  Burleigh  ;  and,  in  after  life,  Bacon 
was  himself  sensible  that  he  had  acted  unwisely, 
and  that  his  noble  kinsmen  had  some  right  to  com 
plain  of  the  readiness  with  which  he  and  his  bro 
ther  had  embraced  the  views  of  their  powerful 
rival.  But,  attached  as  he  was  to  Essex,  Bacon 
was  not  so  imprudent  as  to  neglect  an  application 
to  them  whenever  opportunity  offered  to  forward 
his  interests.  In  a  letter  written  in  the  year  1591 
to  Lord  Burleigh,  in  which  he  says  that  "  thirty- 
one  years  is  a  great  deal  of  sand  in  the  hour-glass," 
he  made  another  effort  to  extricate  himself  from 
the  slavery  of  the  law.  by  endeavouring  to  procure 
some  appointment  at  court ;  that,  "  not  being  a 
man  born  under  Sol  that  loveth  honour,  nor  under 
Jupiter  that  loveth  business,  but  wholly  carried 
away  by  the  contemplative  planet,"  he  might  by 
that  mean  become  a  true  pioneer  in  the  deep  mines 
of  truth.  To  these  applications,  the  Cecils  were 
not  entirely  inattentive ;  for,  although  not  influ 
enced  by  any  sympathy  for  genius,  "  for  a  specu 
lative  man  indulging  himself  in  philosophical 
reveries,  and  calculated  more  to  perplex  than  to 
promote  public  business,"  as  he  was  represented 
by  his  cousin,  Sir  Robert  Cecil,1  they  procured 
for  him  the  reversion  of  the  Registership  of  the 
Star  Chamber,worthabout£lGOOayear,  for  which, 

1  There  is  a  letter  containing  this  expression,  but  I  cannot 
find  it. 


modestly  ascribing  his  success  to  the  remembrance 
of  his  father's  virtues,  he  immediately  acknow 
ledged  his  obligation  to  the  queen.  This  rever 
sion,  however,  was  not  of  any  immediate  value ; 
for,  not  falling  into  possession  till  after  the  lapse 
of  twenty  years,  he  said  that  "  it  was  like  another 
man's  ground  buttailing  upon  his  house,  which 
might  mend  his  prospect,  but  it  did  not  fill  his 
barns." 

In  the  parliament  which  met  on  February  19, 
1592,  and  which  was  chiefly  called  for  consulta 
tion  and  preparation  against  the  ambitious  designs 
of  the  King  of  Spain,  Bacon  sat  as  one  of  the 
knights  for  Middlesex.  On  the  25th  of  February, 
1592,  he,  in  his  first  speech,  earnestly  recom 
mended  the  improvement  of  the  law,  an  improve 
ment  which  through  life  he  availed  himself  of  every 
opportunity  to  encourage,  not  only  by  his  speeches, 
but  by  his  works ;  in  which  he  admonishes  law 
yers,  that  although  they  have  a  tendency  to  resist 
the  progress  of  legal  improvement,  and  are  not 
the  best  improvers  of  law,  it  is  their  duty  to  visit 
and  strengthen  the  roots  and  foundation  of  their 
science,  productive  of  such  blessings  to  themselves 
and  to  the  community  ;  and  he  submitted  to  the 
king  that  the  most  sacred  trust  to  sovereign  power 
consisted  in  the  establishing  good  laws  for  the 
regulation  of  the  kingdom,  and  as  an  example  to 
the  world. 

To  assist  in  the  improvement  which  he  recom 
mended,  he,  in  after  life,  prepared  a  plan  for  a 
digest  and  amendment  of  the  whole  law,  and  parti 
cularly  of  the  penal  law  of  England,  and  a  tract 
upon  Universal  Justice ;  the  one  like  a  fruitful 
shower,  profitable  and  good  for  the  latitude  of 
ground  on  which  it  falls,  the  other  like  the  bene 
fits  of  heaven,  permanent  and  universal. 

In  another  debate  on  the  7th  of  March,  Bacon 
forcibly  represented,  as  reasons  for  deferring  for 
six  years  the  payment  of  the  subsidies  to  which 
the  house  had  consented,  the  distresses  of  the 
people,  the  danger  of  raising  public  discontent, 
and  the  evil  of  making  so  bad  a  precedent  against 
themselves  and  posterity.  With  this  speech  the 
queen  was  much  displeased,  and  caused  her  dis 
pleasure  to  be  communicated  to  Bacon  both  by 
the  lord  treasurer  and  by  the  lord  keeper.  He 
heard  them  with  the  calmness  of  a  philosopher, 
saying,  that  "he  spoke  in  discharge  of  his  con 
science  and  duty  to  God,  to  the  queen,  arid  to  his 
country ;  that  he  well  knew  the  common  beaten 
road  to  favour,  and  the  impossibility  that  he 
who  selected  a  course  of  life  '  estimate  only  by 
the  few,'  should  be  approved  by  the  many,"  He 
said  this,  not  in  anger,  but  in  the  consciousness 
of  the  dignity  of  his  pursuits,  and  with  the  full 
knowledge  of  the  doctrine  and  consequences  both 
of  concealment  and  revelation  of  opinion:  of  the 
time  to  speak  and  the  time  to  be  silent. 

If,  after  this  admonition,  he  was  more  cautious 
in  the  expression  of  his  sentiments,  he  did  not 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xxv 


relax  in  his  parliamentary  exertions,  or  sacrifice 
the  interests  of  the  public  at  the  foot  of  the  throne 
He  spoke  often,  and  always  with  such  force  and 
eloquence  as  to  insure  the  attention  of  the  house ; 
and,  though  he  spoke  generally  on  the  side  of  the 
court,  he  was  regarded  as  the  advocate  of  the  peo 
ple  :  a  powerful  advocate,  according  to  his  friend, 
Ben  Jonson,  who  thus  speaks  of  his  parliament 
ary  eloquence:  "There  happened  in  my  time  one 
noble  speaker,  who  was  full  of  gravity  in  his 
speaking :  his  language,  where  he  could  spare  or 
pass  by  a  jest,  was  nobly  censorious.  No  man 
ever  spake  more  neatly,  more  pressly,  more  weight 
ily,  or  suffered  less  emptiness,  less  idleness  in 
what  he  uttered  :  no  member  of  his  speech  but 
consisted  of  its  own  graces.  His  hearers  could 
not  cough  or  look  aside  from  him  without  loss : 
he  commanded  when  bespoke,  and  had  his  judges 
angry  and  pleased  at  his  devotion.  No  man  had 
their  affections  more  in  his  power:  the  fear  of 
every  man  that  heard  him  was  lest  he  should 
make  an  end." 

It  would  have  been  fortunate  for  society  if  this 
check  had  impressed  upon  his  mind  the  vanity  of 
attempting  to  unite  the  scarcely  reconcileable  cha 
racters  of  the  philosopher  and  the  courtier.  His 
high  birth  and  elegant  taste  unfitted  Bacon  for  the 
common  walks  of  life,  and  by  surrounding  him 
with  artificial  wants,  compelled  him  to  exertions 
uncongenial  to  his  nature  :  but  the  love  of  truth, 
of  his  country,  and  an  undying  spirit  of  improve 
ment,  ever  in  the  train  of  knowledge,  ill  suited 
him  for  the  trammels  in  which  he  was  expected 
to  move.  Through  the  whole  of  his  life  he  en 
deavoured  to  burst  his  bonds,  and  escape  from  law 
and  politics,  from  mental  slavery  to  intellectual 
liberty.  Perhaps  the  charge  of  inconsistency,  so 
often  preferred  against  him,  may  be  attributed  to 
the  varying  impulse  of  such  opposite  motives.1 

In  the  spring  of  1594,2  by  the  promotion  of  Sir 
Ehvard  Coke  to  the  office  of  Attorney  General, 
the  solicitorship  became  vacant.  This  had  been 
foreseen  by  Bacon,  and,  from  his  near  alliance  to 
the  lord  treasurer ;  from  the  friendship  of  Lord 
Essex ;  from  the  honourable  testimony  of  the  bar 
and  of  the  bench ;  from  the  protection  he  had  a 
right  to  hope  for  from  the  queen,  for  his  father's 
sake  ;  from  the  consciousness  of  his  own  merits 
and  of  the  weakness  of  his  competitors,  Bacon  could 
scarcely  doubt  of  his  success.  He  did  not,  how 
ever,  rest  in  an  idle  security  ;  for  though,  to  use 
his  own  expression,  he  was  "voiced  with  great 


expectation,  and  the  wishes  of  all 


yet  he 


strenuously  applied  to  the  lord  keeper,  to  Lord 
Burleigh,  to  Sir  Robert  Cecil,  and  to  his  noble 
friend  Lord  Essex,  to  further  his  suit. 

To  the  Lord  Keeper  Puckering  he  applied  as  to 
a  lawyer,  having  no  sympathy  with  his  pursuits 

«  During  this  year  he  published  a  tract,  containing  obser 
vations  upon  libel.     See  p.  000. 
a  10  April,  Dug.  Orig. 

VOL.  L—  (4) 


or  value  for  his  attainments,  in  the  hope  of  pre 
venting  his  opposition,  rather  than  from  any 
expectation  of  his  support;  and  he  calculated 
rightly  upon  the  lord  keeper's  disposition  towards 
him,  for,  either  hurt  by  Bacon's  manner,  of  which 
he  appeared  to  have  complained,  or  from  tho 
usual  antipathy  of  common  minds  to  intellectual 
superiority,  the  lord  keeper  represented  to  the 
queen  that  two  lawyers,  of  the  names  of  Brograve 
and  Brathwayte,were  more  meritorious  candidates. 
Of  the  conduct  of  the  lord  keeper  he  felt  and  spoke 
indignantly.  "  If,"  he  says,  "  it  please  your  lord 
ship  but  to  call  to  mind  from  whom  I  am  descend 
ed,  and  by  whom,  next  to  God,  her  majesty,  and 
your  own  virtue,  your  lordship  is  ascended,  I 
know  you  will  have  a  compunction  of  mind  to  do 
me  any  wrong." 

To  Lord  Burleigh  he  applied  as  to  his  relation 
and  patron,  and,  as  a  motive  to  insure  his  protec 
tion,  he  intimated  his  intention  to  devote  himself 
to  legal  pursuits,  an  intimation  likely  to  be  of 
more  efficacy  to  this  statesman  than  the  assurance 
that  the  completion  of  the  Novum  Organum  de 
pended  upon  his  success  :  and  he  formed  a  correct 
estimate  of  the  lord  treasurer,  who  strongly  inter 
ceded  with  the  queen,  and  kindly  communicated 
to  Bacon  the  motives  by  which  she  was  influenced 
against  him. 

To  Sir  Robert  Cecil  he  also  applied,  as  to  a 
kinsman ;  and,  during  the  course  of  his  solicita 
tion,  having  suspected  that  he  had  been  bribed  by 
his  opponent,  openly  accused  him ;  but,  having 
discovered  his  error,  he  immediately  acknow 
ledged  that  his  suspicions  were  unfounded.  He 
still,  however,  maintained  that  there  had  been 
treachery  somewhere,  and  that  a  word  the  queen 
had  used  against  him  had  been  put  into  her  mouth 
by  Sir  Robert's  messenger. 

Essex,  with  all  the  zeal  of  his  noble  and  ardent 
nature,  endeavoured  to  influence  the  queen  on  be 
half  of  his  friend,  by  every  power  which  he  pos 
sessed  over  her  affections  and  her  understanding; 
availing  himself  of  the  most  happy  moments  to 
address  her,  refuting  all  the  reasons  which  she 
could  adduce  against  his  promotion,  and  repre 
senting  the  rejection  of  his  suit  as  an  injustice  to 
the  public,  and  a  great  unkindness  to  himself. 
Not  content  with  these  earnest  solicitations,  Es 
sex  applied  to  every  person  by  whom  the  queen 
was  likely  to  be  influenced. 

That  Bacon  had  a  powerful  enemy  was  evinced 
not  only  by  the  whole  of  Elizabeth's  conduct  dur 
ing  this  protracted  suit,  but  by  the  anger  with 
which  she  met  the  earnest  pleadings  of  Essex  ;  by 
ler  perpetual  refusals  to  come  to  any  decision, 
and  above  all,  by  her  remarkable  expressions,  that 
'  Bacon  had  a  great  wit,  and  much  learning,  but 
hat  in  law  he  could  show  to  the  uttermost  of  his 
knowledge,  and  was  not  deep."  Essex  was  con 
vinced  that  his  enemy  was  the  lord  keeper,  to 
whom  he  wrote,  desiring  "  that  the  lord  keeper 


XXVI 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


would  no  longer  consider  him  a  suitor  for  Bacon, 
but  for  himself;  that  upon  him  would  light  the 
disgrace  as  well  of  the  protraction  as  of  the  refusal 
of  the  suit ;  and  complained  with  much  bitterness 
of  those  who  ought  to  be  Bacon's  friends.1 

To  the  queen,  Bacon  applied  by  a  letter  worthy 
of  them  both.  He  addressed  her  respectfully,  but 
with  a  full  consciousness  that  he  deserved  the  ap 
pointment,  and  that  he  had  not  deserved  the  re 
primand  he  had  received  from  her  majesty,  for  the 
honest  exercise  of  his  duty  in  parliament.  Apolo 
gizing  for  his  boldness  and  plainness,  he  told  the 
queen,  "  that  his  mind  turned  upon  other  wheels 
than  those  of  profit ;  that  he  sought  no  great  mat 
ter,  but  a  place  in  his  profession,  often  given  to 
younger  men ;  that  he  had  never  sought  her  but 
by  her  own  desire,  and  that  he  would  not  wrong 
himself  by  doing  it  at  that  time,  when  it  might 
be  thought  he  did  it  for  profit ;  and  that  if  her 
majesty  found  other  and  abler  men,  he  should  be 
glad  there  was  such  choice  of  them."  This  letter, 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  times,  he  accom 
panied  by  a  present  of  a  jewel.  When  the  queen, 
with  the  usual  property  of  royalty,  not  to  forget, 
mentioned  his  speech  in  parliament  which  yet 
rankled  in  her  mind,  and  with  an  antipathy,  un 
worthy  of  her  love  of  letters,  said,  "he  was  rather 
a  man  of  study,  than  of  practice  and  experience  ;" 
he  reminded  her  of  his  father,  who  was  made  so 
licitor  of  the  Augmentation  Office  when  he  was 
only  twenty-seven  years  old,  and  had  never  prac 
tised,  and  that  Mr.  Brograve,  who  had  been  re 
commended  by  the  lord  keeper,  was  without  prac 
tice. 

This  contest  lasted  from  April,  1594,  till  No 
vember,  1595  ;  and  what  at  first  was  merely  doubt 
and  hesitation  in  the  queen's  mind,  became  a 
struggle  against  the  ascendency  which  she  was 
conscious  Essex  had  obtained  over  her,  as  she 
more  than  once  urged  that  "  if  either  party  were 
to  give  way,  it  ought  to  be  Essex ;  that  his  affection 
for  Bacon  should  yield  to  her  mislike."  Of  this 
latent  cause  Essex  became  sensible,  and  said  to 
Bacon,  "  I  never  found  the  queen  passionate 
against  you  till  I  was  passionate  for  you." 

Such  was  the  nature  of  this  contest,  which  was 
so  long  protracted,  that  success  could  not  compen 
sate  for  the  trouble  of  the  pursuit ;  of  this,  and  the 
difficulties  of  his  situation,  he  bitterly  complained. 
"To  be,"  he  said,  "  like  a  child  following  a  bird, 

1  To  the  right  honourable  the  lord  keeper,  fyc. — My  very  good 
lord,  The  want  of  assistance  from  them  which  should  be  Mr. 
Fr.  Bacon's  friends;  makes  [me]  the  more  industrious  my 
self,  and  the  more  earnest  in  soliciting  mine  own  friends. 
Upon  me  the  labour  must  lie  of  his  establishment,  and  upon 
me  the  disgrace  will  light  of  his  being  refused.  Therefore  I 
pray  your  lordship,  now  account  me  not  as  a  solicitor  only  of 
my  friend's  cause,  but  as  a  party  interested  in  this  ;  and  em 
ploy  all  your  lordship's  favour  to  me,  or  strength  for  me,  in 
procuring  a  short  and  speedy  end.  For  though  I  know  it 
will  never  be  carried  any  other  way,  yet  I  hold  both  my 
friend  and  myself  disgraced  by  this  protraction.  More  I  would 
write,  but  that  I  know  to  so  honourable  and  kind  a  friend, 


which  when  he  is  nearest  flieth  away  and  lighteth 
a  little  before,  and  then  the  child  after  it  again. 
I  am  weary  of  it,  as  also  of  wearying  my  good 
friends." 

On  the  5th  of  November,  1596,2  Mr.  Sergeant 
Fleming  was  appointed  solicitor-general,  to  the  sur 
prise  of  the  public,  and  the  deep-felt  mortification 
of  Bacon,  and  of  his  patron  and  friend,  Lord  Essex. 
The  mortification  of  Essex  partook  strongly  of  the 
extremes  of  his  character;  of  the  generous  regard 
of  wounded  affection,  and  the  bitter  vexation  of 
wounded  pride ;  he  complained  that  a  man  every 
way  worthy  had  "  fared  ill,  because  he  had  made 
him  a  mean  and  dependence ;"  but  he  did  not  rest 
here  :  he  generously  undertook  the  care  of  Bacon's 
future  fortunes,  and,  by  the  gift  of  an  estate,  worth 
about  £1800,  at  the  beautiful  village  of  Twicken 
ham,  endeavoured  to  remunerate  him  for  his  great 
loss  of  time  and  grievous  disappointment. 

How  bitterly  Bacon  felt  the  disgrace  of  the 
queen's  rejection,  is  apparent  by  his  own  letter, 
where  he  says,  that  "rejected  with  such  circum 
stances,  he  could  no  longer  look  upon  his  friends, 
and  that  he  should  travel,  and  hoped  that  her  ma 
jesty  would  not  be  offended  that,  no  longer  able 
to  endure  the  sun,  he  had  fled  into  the  shade." 

His  greatest  annoyance  during  this  contest  had 
arisen  from  the  interruption  of  thoughts  generally 
devoted  to  higher  things.  After  a  short  retire 
ment,  "  where  he  once  again  enjoyed  the  blessings 
of  contemplation  in  that  sweet  solitariness  which 
collecteth  the  mind,  as  shutting  the  eyes  does  the 
sight,"  during  which  he  seems  to  have  invented 
an  instrument  resembling  a  barometer,  he  resumed 
his  usual  habits  of  study,  consoled  by  the  con 
sciousness  of  worth,  which,  though  it  may  at  first 
imbitter  defeat  from  a  sense  of  injustice,  never 
fails  ultimately  to  mitigate  disappointment,  by 
insuring  the  sympathy  of  the  wise  and  the  good. 

This  cloud  soon  passed  away  ;  for,  though  Ba 
con  had  stooped  to  politics,  his  mind,  when  he 
resumed  his  natural  position,  was  far  above  the 
agitation  cf  disappointed  ambition.  During  his 
retirement  he  wrote  to  the  queen,  expressing  his 
submission  to  the  providence  of  God,  which  he 
says  findeth  it  expedient  for  me  "  to/erare  jugum 
in  juventute  mea^  and  assuring  her  majesty  that 
her  service  should  not  be  injured  by  any  want  of 
his  exertions.  His  forbearance  was  not  lost  upon 
the  queen,  who,  satisfied  with  her  victory,  soon 
afterwards,  with  an  expression  of  kindness,  em 
ployed  him  in  her  service :  and  some  effort  was 
made  to  create  a  new  vacancy  by  the  advancement 
of  Fleming. 

During  the  contest,  the  University  of  Cambridge 
had  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  master  of 
arts,  and  he  had  in  the  first  throes  of  vexation  de 
clared  his  intention  of  retiring  there,  a  resolution, 


which,  unfortunately  for  philosophy,  he  did  not 

this  which  I  have  said  is  enough.    And  so  I  commend  your    ~llt  inrn  nrap tir>p 
lordship  to  God's  best  protection,  resting,  at  your  lordship's  \  PUt 
commandment,— ESSEX,  a  gee  Dug.  Orig.  Jud. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


XXVII 


In  the  year  1596  Bacon  completed  a  valuable 
tract  upon  the  elements  and  use  of  the  common 
law.  It  consists  in  the  first  part  of  twenty-five 
legal  maxims,  as  specimens  selected  from  three 
hundred,  in  which  he  was  desirous  to  establish  in 
the  science  of  law,  as  he  was  to  establish  in  all 
science,  general  truths  for  the  diminution  of  indi 
vidual  labour,  and  the  foundation  of  future  disco 
veries  :  and,  his  opinion  being-  that  general  truths 
could  be  discovered  only  by  an  extensive  collec 
tion  of  particulars,  he  proceeded  in  this  work  upon 
the  plan  suggested  in  his  Novum  Organum. 

In  the  second  part  he  explains  the  use  of  the 
law  for  the  security  of  persons,  reputation,  and 
property  ;  which,  with  the  greatest  anxiety  to 
advance  freedom  of  thought  and  liberty  of  action, 
he  well  knew  and  always  inculcated,  was  to  be 
obtained  only  by  the  strength  of  the  law  restrain 
ing  and  directing  individual  strength.1  In  Or- 
pheus's  Theatre,  he  says,  "  all  beasts  and  birds 
assembled,  and  forgetting  their  several  appetites, 
some  of  prey,  some  of  game,  and  some  of  quarrel, 
stood  all  sociably  together,  listening  to  the  airs 
and  accords  of  the  harp ;  the  sound  whereof  no 
sooner  ceased,  or  was  drowned  by  some  louder 
noise,  but  every  beast  returned  to  his  own  nature ; 
wherein  is  aptly  described  the  nature  and  con 
dition  of  men :  who  are  are  full  of  savage  and 
unreclaimed  desires  of  profit,  of  lust,  of  revenge, 
which  as  long  as  they  give  ear  to  precepts,  to 
laws,  to  religion,  sweetly  touched  with  eloquence, 
and  persuasion  of  books,  of  sermons,  and  ha 
rangues  ;  so  long  is  society  and  peace  maintained  ; 
but  if  these  instruments  be  silent,  or  sedition  and 
tumult  make  them  not  audible,  all  things  dissolve 
into  anarchy  and  confusion." 

His  preface  contains  his  favourite  doctrine,  that 
"  there  is  a  debt  of  obligation  from  every  member 
of  a  profession  to  assist  in  improving  the  science 
in  which  he  has  successfully  practised,"  and  he 
dedicated  his  work  to  the  queen,  as  a  sheaf  and 
cluster  of  fruit  of  the  good  and  favourable  season 
enjoyed  by  the  nation,  from  the  influence  of  her 
happy  government,  by  which  the  people  were 
taught  that  part  of  the  study  of  a  good  prince  was 
to  adorn  and  honour  times  of  peace  by  the  im 
provement  of  the  laws.  Although  this  tract  was 
written  in  the  year  1596,  and  although  he  was 
always  a  great  admirer  of  Elizabeth,  it  was  not 
published  till  after  his  death. 

The  exertions  which  had  been  made  by  Essex 
to  obtain  the  solicitorship  for  his  friend,  and  his 
generous  anxiety  to  mitigate  his  disappointment, 
had  united  them  by  the  strongest  bonds  of  affec 
tion. 

In  the  summer  of  159G,  Essex  was  appointed 
to  the  command  of  an  expedition  against  Spain ; 
and  though  he  was  much  troubled  during  the  em 
barkation  of  his  troops,  by  the  want  of  discipline 

1  In  societati  civiii,  aut  lex  aut  vis  valet. — Justitia  Univer- 
talu. 


in  the  soldiery,  chiefly  volunteers,  and  by  the  con 
tentions  of  their  officers,  too  equal  to  be  easily 
commanded,  yet  he  did  not  forget  the  interests  of 
Bacon,  but  wrote  from  Plymouth  to  the  new- 
placed  lord  keeper,  and  all  his  friends  in  power, 
strongly  recommending  him  to  their  protection. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  year  1597  his  first  pub 
lication  appeared.  It  is  a  small  12mo.  volume  of 
Essays,  Religious  Meditations,  and  a  table  of  the 
Colours  of  Good  and  Evil.  In  his  dedication  to 
his  loving  and  beloved  brother,  he  states  that  he 
published  to  check  the  circulation  of  spurious 
copies,  "  like  some  owners  of  orchards,  who  ga 
thered  the  fruit  before  it  was  ripe,  to  prevent  steal 
ing;"  and  he  expresses  his  conviction  that  there 
was  nothing  in  the  volume  contrary,  but  rather 
medicinable  to  religion  and  manners,  and  his  hope 
that  the  Essays  would,  to  use  his  own  words, 
"  be  like  the  late  new  halfpence,  which,  though 
the  pieces  were  small,  the  silver  was  good." 

The  Essays,  which  are  ten2  in  number,  abound 
with  condensed  thought  and  practical  wisdom, 
neatly,  pressly,  and  weightily  stated,3  and,  like 
all  his  early  works,  are  simple,  without  imagery. 
They  are  written  in  his  favourite  style  of  aphor 
isms,  although  each  essay  is  apparently  a  con 
tinued  work  ;4  and  without  that  love  of  antithesis 
and  false  glitter  to  which  truth  and  justness  of 
thought  is  frequently  sacrificed  by  the  writers  of 
maxims. 

Another  edition,  with  a  translation  of  the  Me- 
ditationes  Sacrag,  was  published  in  the  next  year  ; 
and  a  third  in  1612,  when  he  was  solicitor-general ; 
and  a  fourth  in  1625,  the  year  before  his  death. 

The  essays  in  the  subsequent  editions  are 
much  augmented,  according  to  his  own  words  ; 
"  I  always  alter  wrhen  I  add,  so  that  nothing  is 
finished  till  all  his  finished,"  and  they  are  adorned 
by  happy  and  familiar  illustration,  as  in  the  essay 
of  "Wisdom  for  a  Man's  self,"  which  concludes 
in  the  edition  of  1625  with  the  following  extract, 
not  to  be  found  in  the  previous  edition  : — "  Wis 
dom  for  a  man's  self  is  in  many  branches  thereof 
a  depraved  thing.  It  is  the  wisdom  of  rats,  that 
will  be  sure  to  leave  a  house  somewhat  before  it 

a  1.  Of  Study. 

2.  Of  Discourse. 

3.  Of  Ceremonies  and  Respect. 

4.  Of  Followers  and  Friends. 

5.  Suitors. 

6.  Of  Expense. 

7.  Of  Regiment  of  Health. 

8.  Of  Honour  and  Reputation. 

9.  Of  Faction. 

10.  Of  Negociating. 

3  See  Ben  Jonson's  description  of  his  speaking  in  parlia 
ment,  ante.  25. 

•»  The  following  is  selected  as  a  specimen  from  his  first 
essay  "  Of  Study  :" 

TT  Reade  not  to  contradict,  nor  to  believe,  but  to  waigh  and 
consider. 

TT  Some  bookes  are  to  be  tasted,  others  to  be  swallowed, 
and  some  few  to  be  chewed  and  digested.  That  is,  some 
bookes  are  to  be  read  only  in  partes  ;  others  to  be  read  but 
cursorily,  and  some  few  to  be  read  wholly  and  with  diligence 
and  attention. 

IT  Histories  make  men  wise,  poets  wittie,  the  math*. 
maticks  subtle,  natural  philosophic  deepe,  moral,  grave;  to- 
gicke,  and  rhetoricke  able  to  contend, 


XXV111 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


fall.  It  is  the  wisdom  of  the  fox,  that  thrusts  out 
the  badger,  who  digged  and  made  room  for  him. 
It  is  the  wisdom  of  crocodiles,  who  shed  tears  when 
they  would  devour.  But  that  which  is  specially 
to  be  noted  is,  that  those  which,  as  Cicero  says 
of  Pompey,  are  sui  amantes  sine  rivali,  are  many 
times  unfortunate.  And  whereas  they  have  all 
their  time  sacrificed  to  themselves,  they  become 
in  the  end  themselves  sacrifices  to  the  inconstancy 
of  fortune,  whose  wings  they  thought  by  their  self- 
wisdom  to  have  pinioned." 

So  in  the  essay  upon  Adversity,  on  which  he 
had  deeply  reflected,  before  the  edition  of  1625, 
when  it  first  appeared,  he  says  :  "  The  virtue  of 
prosperity  is  temperance,  the  virtue  of  adversity 
is  fortitude,  which  in  morals  is  the  more  heroical 
virtue.  Prosperity  is  the  blessing  of  the  Old 
Testament,  adversity  is  the  blessing  of  the  New, 
which  carrieth  the  greater  benediction,  and  the 
clearer  revelation  of  God's  favour.  Yet  even  in 
the  Old  Testament,  if  you  listen  to  David's  harp, 
you  shall  hear  as  many  hearse-like  airs  as  carols  ; 
and  the  pencil  of  the  Holy  Ghost  hath  laboured 
more  in  describing  the  afflictions  of  Job  than  the 
felicities  of  Solomon.  Prosperity  is  not  without 
many  fears  and  distastes ;  and  adversity  is  not 
without  comforts  and  hopes.  We  see  in  needle 
works  and  embroideries,  it  is  more  pleasing  to 
have  a  lively  work  upon  a  sad  and  solemn  ground, 
than  to  have  a  dark  and  melancholy  work  upon  a 
lightsome  ground:  judge,  therefore,  of  the  plea 
sures  of  the  heart  by  the  pleasures  of  the  eye. 
Certainly  virtue  is  like  precious  odours,  most 
fragrant  when  they  are  incensed,  or  crushed  :  for 
prosperity  doth  best  discover  vice,  bat  adversity 
doth  best  discover  virtue." 

The  essays  were  immediately  translated  into 
French  and  Italian,  and  into  Latin  by  some  of  his 
friends,  amongst  whom  were  Hacket,  Bishop  of 
Litchfield,  and  his  constant,  affectionate  friend, 
Ben  Jonson.1 

His  own  estimate  of  the  value  of  this  work  is 
thus  stated  in  his  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Win 
chester  :  "  As  for  my  Essays,  and  some  other  par 
ticulars  of  that  nature,  I  count  them  but  as  the  re 
creations  of  my  other  studies,  and  in  that  manner 
purpose  to  continue  them ;  though  I  am  not  ig 
norant  that  these  kind  of  writings  would,  with 
less  pains  and  assiduity,  perhaps  yield  more  lus 
tre  and  reputation  to  my  name  than  the  others  I 
have  in  hand." 

Although  it  was  not  likely  that  such  lustre  and 
reputation  would  dazzle  him,  the  admirer  of  Pho- 
c'on,3  who,  when  applauded,  turned  to  one  of  his 
friends,  and  asked,  "what  have  I  said  amiss V 
although  popular  judgment  was  not  likely  to  mis 
lead  him  who  concludes  his  observations  upon 
the  objections  to  learning  and  the  advantages  of 
knowledge,  by  saying,  "  Nevertheless,  I  do  not 

i  Tennison.    See  note  (a),  p.  226. 
»  Apothegm  30. 


pretend,  and  I  know  it  will  be  impossible  for  me,  by 
any  pleading  of  mine,  to  reverse  the  judgment  either 
of  M  sop's  cock,  that  preferred  the  barleycorn  before 
the  gem ;  or  of  Midas,  that,  being  chosen  judge  be 
tween  Apollo,  president  of  the  muses,  and  Pan, 
god  of  the  flocks,  judged  for  plenty  ;  or  of  Paris, 
that  judged  for  beauty  and  love  against  wisdom 
and  power.  For  these  things  continue  as  they 
have  been  ;  but  so  will  that  also  continue  where 
upon  learning  hath  ever  relied,  and  which  faileth 
not.  '  Justificata  est  sapientia  a  filiis  suis  :'  "3 
yet  he  seems  to  have  undervalued  this  little  work, 
which,  for  two  centuries,  has  been  favourably  re 
ceived  by  every  lover  of  knowledge  and  of  beauty, 
and  is  now  so  well  appreciated,  that  a  celebrated 
professor  of  our  own  times  truly  says :  "  The 
small  volume  to  which  he  has  given  the  title  of 
'  Essays,'  the  best  known  and  the  most  popular 
of  all  his  works,  is  one  of  those  where  the  supe 
riority  of  his  genius  appears  to  the  greatest  ad 
vantage  ;  the  novelty  and  depth  of  his  reflections 
often  receiving  a  strong  relief  from  the  triteness 
of  the  subject.  It  may  be  read  from  beginning 
to  end  in  a  few  hours,  and  yet  after  the  twentieth 
perusal  one  seldom  fails  to  remark  in  it  something 
overlooked  before.  This,  indeed,  is  a  character 
istic  of  all  Bacon's  writings,  and  is  only  to  be 
accounted  for  by  the  inexhaustible  aliment  they 
furnish  to  our  own  thoughts,  and  the  sympathetic 
activity  they  impart  to  our  torpid  faculties."4 

During  his  life,  six  or  more  editions,  which 
seem  to  have  been  pirated,  were  published ;  and, 
after  his  death,  two  spurious  essays  "  Of  Death," 
and  "  Of  a  King,"  the  only  authentic  posthumous 
essay  being  the  fragment  of  an  essay  on  Fame, 
which  was  published  by  his  friend  and  chaplain, 
Dr.  Rawley. 

The  sacred  meditations,  which  are  twelve  in 
number,5  are  in  the  first  edition  in  Latin,  and 
have  been  partly  incorporated  into  subsequent 
editions  of  the  Essays,  and  into  the  Advancement 
of  Learning. 

The  Colours  of  Good  and  Evil,  are  ten  in  num 
ber,  and  were  afterwards  inserted  in  the  Advance 
ment  of  Learning,6  in  his  tract  on  Rhetoric. 

Such  was  the  nature  of  his  first  work,  which 
was  gratefully  received  by.  his  learned  contempo 
raries,  as  the  little  cloud  seen  by  the  prophet,  and 
welcomed  as  the  harbinger  of  showers  that  would 
fertilize  the  whole  country. 

3  See  p.  184  *  Dugald  Stewart. 

*  Of  the  Works  of  God  and  Man. 

Of  the  Miracles  of  our  Saviour. 

Of  the  Innocency  of  the  Dove,  and  the  Wisdom  of  the 
Serpent. 

Of  the  Exaltation  of  Charity. 

Of  the  Moderation  of  Cares. 

Of  Earthly  Hope. 

Of  Hypocrites. 

Of  Impostors. 

Of  the  several  kinds  of  Imposture. 

Of  Atheism. 

Of  Heresies. 

Of  the  Church  and  the  Scripture, 
s  See  p.  216. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


XXIX 


While,  in  this  year,  the  Earl  of  Essex  was  pre 
paring  for  his  voyage,  Bacon  communicated  to 
him  his  intention  of  making-  a  proposal  of  mar 
riage  to  the  Lady  Hatton,  the  wealthy  widow  of 
Sir  William  Hatton,  and  daughter  of  Sir  Thomas 
Cecil,  and  desired  his  lordship's  interest  in  sup 
port  of  his  pretensions,  trusting,  he  said,  "that 
the  beams  of  his  lordship's  pen  might  dissolve 
the  coldness  of  his  fortune."  Essex,  with  his 
wonted  zeal,  warmly  advocated  the  cause  of  his 
friend ;  he  wrote  in  the  strongest  terms  to  the 
father  and  mother  of  the  lady,  assuring  them  "  that 
if  Bacon's  suit  had  been  to  his  own  sister  or 
daughter,  he  would  as  confidently  further  it,  as 
he  now  endeavoured  to  persuade  them."  Neither 
Bacon's  merit,  or  the  generous  warmth  of  his 
noble  patron  touched  the  heart  of  the  lady,  who, 
fortunately  for  Bacon,  afterwards  became  the  wife 
of  his  great  rival,  Sir  Edward  Coke. 

In  this  year  he  seems  to  have  been  in  great  pe- 
cu  niary  difficulties,  which,  however  they  may  have 
interrupted,  did  not  prevent  his  studies ;  for,  amidst 
his  professional  and  political  labours,  he  publish 
ed  a  new  edition  of  his  essays,1  and  composed  a 
law  tract,  not  published  until  some  years  after  his 
death,  entitled  the  History  of  the  Alienation  Of 
fice. 

In  the  year  1599,  the  celebrated  case  of  Per 
petuities,  which  had  been  argued  many  times  at 
the  bar  of  the  King's  Bench,  was,  on  account  of 
its  difficulty  and  great  importance,  ordered  to  be 
argued  in  the  Exchequer  Chamber  before  all  the 
judges  of  England  ;2  and  after  a  first  argument 
by  Coke,  Solicitor-General,  a  second  argument 
was  directed,  and  Bacon  was  selected  to  discharge 
this  arduous  duty,  to  which  he  seems  to  have  given 
his  whole  mind  ;  and  although  Sir  Edward  Coke, 
in  his  report,  states  that  he  did  not  hear  the  argu 
ments,  the  case  is  reported  at  great  length,  and 
the  reasoning  has  not  been  lost,  for  the  manuscript 
exists,  and  seems  to  have  been  incorporated  in  his 
reading  on  the  statute  of  uses  to  the  society  of 
Gray's  Inn. 

He  thus  commences  his  address  to  the  students  : 
';  I  have  chosen  to  read  upon  the  Statute  of  Uses, 
a  law  whereupon  the  inheritances  of  this  realm 
are  tossed  at  this  day,  like  a  ship  upon  the  sea, 
in  such  sort,  that  it  is  hard  to  say  which  bark  will 
sink,  and  which  will  get  to  the  haven ;  that  is  to 
say,  what  assurances  will  stand  good,  and  what 
will  not.  Neither  is  this  any  lack  or  default  in 
the  pilots,  the  grave  and  learned  judges;  but  the 
tides  and  currents  of  received  error,  and  unwar 
ranted  and  abusive  experience  have  been  so  strong, 
as  they  were  not  able  to  keep  a  right  course  ac 
cording  to  the  law.  Herein,  though  I  could  not 
be  ignorant  either  of  the  difficulty  of  the  matter, 
which  he  that  taketh  in  hand  shall  soon  find,  or 

1  It  differs  from  the  edition  of  1597  only  in  having  the  Me- 
ditationes  Sacra;  in  English  instead  of  Latin. 
»  1  Coke,  121,  p.  287 


much  less  of  my  own  nnableness,  which  I  had 
continual  sense  and  feeling  of;  yet,  because  1 
had  more  means  of  absolution  than  the  younger 
sort,  and  more  leisure  than  the  greater  sort,  I  did 
think  it  not  impossible  to  work  some  profitable 
effect;  the  rather  because  where  an  inferior  wit 
is  bent  and  constant  upon  one  subject,  he  shall 
many  times,  with  patience  and  meditation,  dis 
solve  and  undo  many  of  the  knots,  which  a  great 
er  wit,  distracted  with  many  matters,  would  rather 
cut  in  two  than  unknit :  and,  at  the  least,  if  my 
invention  or  judgment  be  too  barren  or  too  weak, 
yet  by  the  benefit  of  other  arts,  I  did  hope  to  dis 
pose  or  digest  the  authorities  and  opinions  which 
are  in  cases  of  uses  in  such  order  and  method,  as 
they  should  take  light  one  from  another,  though 
they  took  no  light  from  me." 

He  then  proceeds  in  a  luminous  exposition  of 
the  statute,  of  which  a  celebrated  lawyer  of  our 
times,3  says  :  "  Lord  Bacon's  reading  on  the  Sta 
tute  of  Uses  is  a  very  profound  treatise  on  the 
subject,  so  far  as  it  goes,  and  shows  that  he  had 
the  clearest  conception  of  one  of  the  most  abstruse 
parts  of  our  law.  What  might  we  not  have  ex 
pected  from  the  hands  of  such  a  master,  if  his 
vast  mind  had  not  so  embraced  within  its  com 
pass  the  whole  field  of  science,  as  very  much  to 
detach  him  from  his  professional  studies'?" 

There  is  an  observation  of  the  same  nature  by 
a  celebrated  professor  in  another  department  of 
science,  Sir  John  Hawkins,  who,  in  his  History 
of  Music,  says,  "  Lord  Bacon,  in  his  Natural 
History,  has  given  a  great  variet)r  of  experiments 
touching  music,  that  show  him  to  have  not  been 
barely  a  philosopher,  an  inquirer  into  the  pheno 
mena  of  sound,  but  a  master  of  the  science  of 
harmony,  and  very  intimately  acquainted  with 
the  precepts  of  musical  composition."  And,  in 
coincidence  with  his  lordship's  sentiments  of  har 
mony,  he  quotes  the  following  passage:  "The 
sweetest  and  best  harmony  is  when  every  part  or 
instrument  is  not  heard  by  itself,  but  a  conflation 
of  them  all,  which  requireth  to  stand  some  dis 
tance  off,  even  as  it  is  in  the  mixtures  of  perfumes, 
or  the  taking  of  the  smells  of  several  flowers  in 
the  air." 

With  these  legal  and  literary  occupations  he 
continued  without  intermission  his  parliamentary 
exertions,  there  not  having  been  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  queen's  reign  any  debate  in  which  he 
was  not  a  distinguished  speaker,  or  any  important 
committee  of  which  he  was  not  an  active  mem 
ber. 

Early  in  the  year  1599,  a  large  body  of  the 
Irish,  denied  the  protection  of  the  laws,  and  hunt 
ed  like  wild  beasts  by  an  insolent  soldiery,  fled 
the  neighbourhood  of  cities,  sheltered  themselves 
in  their  marshes  and  forests,  and  grew  every  day 
more  intractable  and  dangerous;  it  became  DO 

»  Mr.  Hargrave. 
(c  2) 


XXX 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


cessary,  therefore,  that  some  vigorous  measures 
should  be  adopted  to  restrain  their  excesses. 

A  powerful  army  was  raised,  of  which  the  com 
mand  was  intended  by  the  queen  to  be  conferred 
upon  Lord  Mountjoy;  but  Essex  solicited  an 
employment,  which  at  once  gratified  his  ambition 
and  suited  the  ardour  of  his  character,  and  which 
his  enemies  sought  for  him  more  zealously  than 
his  friends,  foreseeing  the  loss  of  the  queen's  fa 
vour,  from  the  certainty  of  his  absence  from  court, 
arid  the  probable  failure  of  his  expedition. 

From  the  year  1596  till  tbis  period  there  had 
been  some  interruption  of  the  intimacy  between 
Bacon  and  Essex,  arising  from  the  honest  expres 
sion  of  his  opinion  of  the  unwise  and  unworthy 
use  which  Essex  made  of  his  power  over  the 
queen.  Notwithstanding  the  temporary  estrange 
ment  which  this  difference  of  opinion  occasioned, 
Essex  was  unwilling  to  accept  this  important  com 
mand  without  consulting  his  intelligent  friend. 

Bacon's  narrative  gives  a  striking  picture  of 
both  parties.  He  says,  "  Sure  I  am  (though  I 
can  arrogate  nothing  to  myself  but  that  I  was  a 
faithful  remembrance  to  his  lordship)  that  while 
I  had  most  credit  with  him  his  fortune  went  on 
best.  And  yet  in  two  main  points  we  always 
directly  and  contradictorily  differed,  which  I  will 
mention  to  your  lordship,  because  it  giveth  light 
to  all  that  followed.  The  one  was,  I  ever  set  this 
down,  that  the  only  course  to  be  held  with  the 
queen  was  by  obsequiousness  and  observance ; 
and  I  remember  I  would  usually  engage  confi 
dently,  that  if  he  would  take  that  course  constant 
ly,  and  with  choice  of  good  particulars  to  express 
it,  the  queen  would  be  brought  in  time  to  Assue- 
rus'  question,  to  ask,  what  should  be  done  to  the 
man  that  the  king  would  honour1?  meaning,  that 
her  goodness  was  without  limit,  where  there  was 
a  true  concurrence,  which  I  knew  in  her  nature 
to  be  true.  My  lord,  on  the  other  side,  had  a 
settled  opinion,  that  the  queen  could  be  brought 
to  nothing  but  by  a  kind  of  necessity  and  author 
ity  ;  and  I  well  remember,  when  by  violent 
courses  at  any  time  he  had  got  his  will,  he  would 
ask  me :  Now,  sir,  whose  principles  be  true  ]  And 
I  would  again  say  to  him  :  My  lord,  these  courses 
be  like  to  hot  waters,  they  M'ill  help  at  a  pang ; 
but  if  you  use  them,  you  shall  spoil  the  stomach, 
and  you  shall  be  fain  still  to  make  them  stronger 
and  stronger,  and  yet  in  the  end  they  will  lese 
their  operation :  with  much  other  variety,  where 
with  I  used  to  touch  that  string.  Another  point 
was,  that  I  always  vehemently  dissuaded  him 
from  seeking  greatness  by  a  military  dependence, 
or  by  a  popular  dependence,  as  that  which  would 
breed  in  the  queen  jealousy,  in  himself  presump 
tion,  and  in  the  state  perturbation ;  and  I  did 
usually  compare  them  to  Icarus'  two  wings,  which 
were  joined  on  with  wax,  and  would  make  him 
venture  to  soar  too  high,  and  then  fail  him  at  the 
height.  And  I  would  further  say  unto  him  :  My 


lord,  stand  upon  two  feet,  and  fly  not  upon  two 
wings.  The  two  feet  are  the  two  kinds  of  justice, 
commutative  and  distributive  :  use  your  greatness 
for  advancing  of  merit  and  virtue,  and  relieving 
wrongs  and  burdens ;  you  shall  need  no  other  art 
or  fineness :  but  he  would  tell  me,  that  opinion 
came  not  from  my  mind,  but  from  my  robe.  But 
this  difference  in  two  points  so  main  and  material, 
bred  in  process  of  time  a  discontinuance  of  pri- 
vateness  (as  it  is  the  manner  of  men  seldom  to 
communicate  wrhere  they  think  their  courses  not 
approved)  between  his  lordship  and  myself;  so 
as  I  was  not  called  nor  advised  with  for  some 
year  and  a  half  before  his  lordship's  going  into 
Ireland,  as  in  former  time :  yet  nevertheless, 
touching  his  going  into  Ireland,  it  pleased  him 
expressly  and  in  a  set  manner  to  desire  mine 
opinion  and  counsel."1 

Thus  consulted,  Bacon,  with  prophetic  wisdom, 
warned  him  of  the  ruin  that  would  inevitably  re 
sult  from  his  acceptance  of  an  appointment,  at 
tended  not  only  with  peculiar  difficulties,  which 
from  habit  and  temper  he  was  unfit  to  encounter, 
but  also  with  the  certain  loss  of  the  queen's  fa 
vour,  from  his  absence,  and  the  constant  plotting 
of  his  enemies.  Essex  heard  this  advice,  urged 
as  it  was,  with  an  anxiety  almost  parental,  as 
advice  is  generally  heard  when  opposed  to  strong 
passion.  It  was  totally  disregarded.  It  is  but 
justice  to  Bacon  to  hear  his  own  words.  He 
says  :  "  I  did  not  only  dissuade,  but  protest 
against  his  going,  telling  him  with  as  much  ve- 
hemency  and  asseveration  as  I  could,  that  absence 
in  that  kind  would  exulcerate  the  queen's  mind, 
whereby  it  would  not  be  possible  for  him  to  carry 
himself  so  as  to  give  her  sufficient  contentment; 
nor  for  her  to  carry  herself  so  as  to  give  him.  suffi 
cient  countenance,  which  would  be  ill  for  her,  ill 
for  him,  and  ill  for  the  state.  And  because  I 
would  omit  no  argument,  I  remember  I  stood  also 
upon  the  difficulty  of  the  action  :  many  other 
reasons  I  used,  so  as  I  am  sure  I  never  in  any 
thing  in  my  lifetime  dealt  with  him  in  like  ear 
nestness  by  speech,  by  writing,  and  by  all  the 
means  I  could  devise.  For  I  did  as  plainly  see 
his  overthrow  chained,  as -it  were  by  destiny,  to 
that  journey,  as  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  ground 
a  judgment  upon  future  contingents.  But  my 
lord,  howsoever  his  ear  was  open,  yet  his  heart  and 
resolution  was  shut  against  that  advice,  whereby 
his  ruin  might  have  been  prevented."1 

It  did  not  require  Bacon's  sagacity  to  foresee 
these  sad  consequences.  Elizabeth  had  given  an 
unwilling  assent  to  the  appointment,  and,  though 
accustomed  to  yield  to  the  vehement  demands  of 
her  favourite,  was  neither  blind  to  his  faults,  or 
slow  in  remembering  them,  when  his  absence 
gave  her  time  for  reflection ;  but  she  shared  with 
all  monarchs  the  common  wish  to  obtain  the  dis- 


Bacon's  Apology. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


XXXI 


interested  affection  of  those  whom  she  distin 
guished  with  her  favour. 

By  the  loss  of  Leicester,  and  the  recent  death 
of  Burleigh,  she  was  left  in  the  decline  of  her 
life  "in  a  solitude  of  friends,"  when  Essex,  of  a 
character  more  congenial  to  the  queen  than  either 
of  those  noblemen,  became,  between  twenty  and 
thirty  years  of  age,  a  candidate  for  court  favour. 
Well  read,  highly  born,  accomplished,  and  im 
bued  with  the  romantic  chivalry  of  the  times,  he 
amused  her  by  his  gayety,  and  flattered  her  by  his 
gallantry ;  the  rash  ingenuousness  of  his  temper 
gave  an  air  of  sincerity  to  all  his  words  and  ac 
tions,  while  strength  of  will,  and  a  daring  and 
lofty  spirit  like  her  own,  lessened  the  distance 
between  them,  and  completed  the  ascendency 
which  he  gained  over  her  affections;  an  ascend 
ency  which,  even  if  the  queen  had  not  been  sur 
rounded  by  his  rivals  and  enemies,  could  not  but 
be  diminished  by  his  absence. 

In  March,  1599,  he  was  appointed  lord  lieu 
tenant,  and,  attended  with  the  flower  of  the  nobi 
lity  and  the  acclamations  of  the  people,  he  quitted 
London,  and  in  the  latter  end  of  the  month  arrived 
at  Dublin.  From  this  time  until  his  return,  the 
whole  of  his  actions  were  marked  by  a  strong 
determination  that  his  will  should  be  paramount 
to  that  of  the  queen. 

The  first  indication  of  his  struggle  for  power 
was  the  appointment,  against  the  express  wish  of 
the  queen,  of  his  friend,  Lord  Southampton,  to  be 
general  of  the  horse,  which  he  was  ordered  to  re 
scind.  Essex,  who  had  much  personal  courage, 
and  who  would  have  distinguished  himself  at  a 
tournament,  or  a  passage  at  arms,  being  totally 
unfit  to  manage  an  expedition  requiring  all  the 
skill,  experience,  and  patient  endurance  of  a  vete 
ran  soldier,  the  whole  campaign  was  a  series  of 
rash  enterprise,  neglected  opportunity,  and  relax 
ed  discipline,  involving  himself  and  his  country 
in  defeat  and  disgrace.  By  this  ill-advised  con 
duct  he  so  completely  aliened  the  minds  of  his 
soldiers,  that  they  were  put  to  flight  by  an  infe 
rior  number  of  the  enemy ;  at  which  Essex  was  so 
much  enraged,  that  he  cashiered  all  the  officers, 
and  decimated  the  men. 

Bacon,  seeing  how  truly  he  had  prophesied,  and 
observing  the  pain  felt  by  the  queen,  availed  him 
self  of  every  opportunity  to  prevent  his  ruin  in 
her  affections.  "After  my  lord's  going,"  he  says, 
"  I  saw  then  how  true  a  prophet  I  was,  in  regard 
of  the  evident  alteration  which  naturally  succeed 
ed  in  the  queen's  mind ;  and  thereupon  I  was  still 
in  watch  to  find  the  best  occasion  that  in  the  weak 
ness  of  my  power  I  could  either  take  or  minister, 
to  pull  him  out  of  the  fire  if  it  had  been  possible ; 
and  not  long  after,  methought  I  saw  some  over 
ture  thereof,  which  I  apprehended  readily,  a  par 
ticularity  I  think  be  known  to  very  few,  and  the 
which  I  do  the  rather  relate  unto  your  lordship, 
because  I  hear  it  should  be  talked,  that  while  my 


lord  was  in  Ireland  I  revealed  some  matters  against 
him,  or  I  cannot  tell  what ;  which,  if  it  were  not 
a  mere  slander  as  the  rest  is,  but  had  any,  though 
never  so  little  colour,  was  surely  upon  this  occa 
sion.  The  queen  one  day  at  Nonsuch,  a  little  (as 
I  remember)  before  Cuffes  coming  over,  I  attend 
ing  on  her,  showed  a  passionate  distaste  of  my 
lord's  proceedings  in  Ireland,  as  if  they  were  un 
fortunate,  without  judgment,  contemptuous,  and 
not  without  some  private  end  of  his  own,  and  al) 
that  might  be,  and  was  pleased,  as  she  spake  ot 
it  to  many  that  she  trusted  least,  so  to  fall  into 
the  like  speech  with  me ;  whereupon  I,  who  was 
still  awake,  and  true  to  my  grounds  which  I 
thought  surest  for  my  lord's  good,  said  to  this 
effect:  Madam,  I  know  not  the  particulars  of 
estate,  and  I  know  this,  that  princes'  actions  must 
have  no  abrupt  periods  or  conclusions,  but  other 
wise  I  would  think,  that  if  you  had  my  Lord  of 
Essex  here  with  a  white  staff  in  his  hand,  as  my 
Lord  of  Leicester  had,  and  continued  him  still 
about  you  for  society  to  yourself,  and  for  an  ho 
nour  and  ornament  to  your  attendance  and  court  in 
the  eyes  of  your  people,  and  in  the  eyes  of  foreign 
ambassadors,  then  were  he  in  his  right  element ; 
for,  to  discontent  him  as  you  do,  and  yet  to  put 
arms  and  power  into  his  hands,  may  be  a  kind  of 
temptation  to  make  him  prove  cumbersome  and 
unruly.  And  therefore  if  you  would  imponeri 
bonam  dausulam,  and  send  for  him,  and  satisfy 
him  with  honour  near  you,  if  your  affairs,  which 
(as  I  have  said)  I  am  not  acquainted  with,  will 
permit  it,  I  think  were  the  best  way."1 

These  kind  exertions  for  his  friend  were,  how 
ever,  wholly  defeated  by  the  haughtiness  and  im 
prudence  of  Essex,  who,  to  the  just  remonstrances 
of  the  queen,  gave  no  other  answers  than  peevish 
complaints  of  his  enemies ;  and,  to  the  astonish 
ment  of  all  persons,  he,  without  her  permission, 
returned  to  England,  arrived  before  any  person 
could  be  apprized  of  his  intention,  and,  the  queen 
not  being  in  London,  he,  without  stopping  to 
change  his  dress,  or  to  take  any  refreshment,  pro 
ceeded  to  Nonsuch,  where  the  court  was  held. 
Travel-stained  as  he  was,  he  sought  the  queen  in 
her  chamber,  and  found  her  newly  risen,  with  her 
hair  about  her  face.  lie  kneeled  to  her,  and  kiss 
ed  her  hands.  Elizabeth,  taken  by  surprise,  gave 
way  to  all  her  partiality  for  him,  and  to  the  plea 
sure  she  always  had  in  his  company.  He  left 
her  presence  well  pleased  with  his  reception,  and 
thanked  God,  though  he  had  suffered  much  trou 
ble  and  storm  abroad,  that  he  found  a  sweet  calm 
at  home.  He  had  another  conference  for  an  hour 
with  the  queen  before  midday,  from  which  he  re 
turned  well  contented  with  his  future  prospects 
receiving  the  visits  of  the  whole  court,  Cecil  and 
his  party  excepted.2 


Bacon's  Apology. 

See  Sydney  Tapers,  117 — 127. 


Camden  and  Birch, 


XXX11 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


During  the  day  the  queen  saw  her  ministers.1 
After  dinner  he  found  her  rimeri  changed :  she  re 
ceived  him  coldly,  and  appointed  the  lords  to  hear 
him  in  council  that  very  afternoon.  After  sitting 
an  hour,  they  adjourned  the  court  to  a  full  council 
on  the  next  day;  but,  between  eleven  and  twelve 
at  night,  an  order  came  from  the  queen  that  Essex 
should  keep  his  chamber.2 

On  the  next  day  the  lords  met  in  council,  and 
presented  a  favourable  report  to  the  queen,  who 
said  she  would  pause  and  consider  it,  Essex  still 
continuing  captive  in  his  chamber,3  from  whence 
the  queen  ordered  him  to  be  committed  into  cus 
tody,  lest,  having  his  liberty,  lie  might  be  far 
withdrawn  from  his  duty  through  the  corrupt 
counsels  of  turbulent  men,  not  however  to  any 
prison,  lest  she  might  seem  to  destroy  all  hope  of 
her  ancient  favour,  but  to  the  lord  keeper's,  at 
York  House,  to  which  in  the  afternoon  he  was 
taken  from  Nonsuch.4 

Bacon's  steady  friendship  again  manifested  it 
self.  He  wrote  to  Essex  the  moment  he  heard 
of  his  arrival,  and  in  an  interview  between  them, 
he  urged  the  advice  which  he  had  communicated 
in  his  letter.  This  letter  and  advice  are  fortu 
nately  preserved.  In  his  letter  he  says :  My  lord, 
conceiving  that  your  lordship  came  now  up  in  the 
person  of  a  good  servant  to  see  your  sovereign 
mistress,  which  kind  of  compliments  are  many 
times  "instar  magnorum  meritorum;"  and  there 
fore  that  it  would  be  hard  for  me  to  find  you,  I 
have  committed  to  this  poor  paper  the  humble 
salutations  of  him  that  is  more  yours  than  any 
man's,  and  more  yours  than  any  man.  To  these 
salutations,  I  add  a  due  and  joyful  gratulation, 
confessing  that  your  lordship,  in  your  last  con 
ference  with  me  before  your  journey,  spake  not 
in  vain,  God  making  it  good,  that  you  trusted  we 
should  say,  "quis  putasset  ]"  Which,  as  it  is 
found  true  in  a  happy  sense,  so  I  wish  you  do  not 
find  another  "  quis  putasset,"  in  the  manner  of 
taking  this  so  great  a  service ;  but  I  hope  it  is  as 
he  said,  "nubecula  est  cito  transibit;"  and  that 
your  lordship's  wisdom  and  obsequious  circum 
spection  and  patience  will  turn  all  to  the  best. 
So  referring  all  to  sometime  that  I  may  attend 
you,  I  commit  you  to  God's  best  preservation. 

And  his  advice  is  thus  stated  by  Bacon :  "Well, 
the  next  news  that  I  heard,  was  that  my  lord  was 
come  over,  and  that  he  was  committed  to  his 
chamber  for  leaving  Ireland  without  the  queen's 
license :  this  was  at  Nonsuch,  where  (as  my  duty 
was)  I  came  to  his  lordship,  and  talked  with  him 
privately  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  he  asked 
mine  opinion  of  the  course  that  was  taken  with 
him ;  I  told  him :  My  lord,  nubecula  est,  cito  tran- 
sibil:  it  is  but  a  mist;  but  shall  I  tell  your  lord- 

i  See  Sydney  Papers.  Michaelmas  day  at  noon,  (vol.  ii. 
p.  12S,)  containing  the  account  of  the  different  persons  who 
hastened  to  court  on  that  day. 

*  Sydney  Papers,  vol.  ii.  p.  129. 

8  Sydney  Papers,  130—133.        *  Sydney  Papers,  131—139. 


ship  it  is  as  mists  are,  if  it  go  upwards,  it  may 
perhaps  cause  a  shower,  if  downwards  it  will 
clear  up.  And  therefore,  good  my  lord,  carry  it 
so,  as  you  take  away  by  all  means  all  umbrages 
and  distastes  from  the  queen,  and  especially  if 
I  were  worthy  to  advise  you,  (as  I  have  been  by 
yourself  thought,  and  now  your  question  imports 
the  continuance  of  that  opinion,)  observe  three 
points :  first,  make  not  this  cessation  or  peace, 
which  is  concluded  with  Tyrone,  as  a  service 
wherein  you  glory,  but  as  a  shuffling  up  of  a  pro 
secution  which  was  not  very  fortunate.  Next, 
represent  not  to  the  queen  any  necessity  of  estate, 
whereby,  as  by  a  coercion  or  wrench,  she  should 
think  herself  enforced  to  send  you  back  into  Ire 
land  ;  but  leave  it  to  her.  Thirdly,  seek  access, 
importune,  opportune,  seriously,  sportingly,  every 
way.  I  remember  my  lord  was  willing  to  hear 
me,  but  spake  very  few  words,  and  shaked  his 
head  sometimes,  as  if  he  thought  I  was  in  the 
wrong;  but  sure  I  am,  he  did  just  contrary  in 
every  one  of  these  three  points."5 

After  his  committal  to  the  lord  keeper's,  there 
was  great  fluctuation  of  opinion  with  respect  to 
his  probable  fate.  On  one  day  the  hope  of  his 
restoration  to  favour  prevailed ;  on  the  next,  as 
the  queen,  by  brooding  over  the  misconduct  of 
Essex,  by  additional  accounts  of  the  consequences 
of  his  errors  in  Ireland,  by  turbulent  speeches  and 
seditious  pamphlets,  was  much  exasperated,  his 
ruin  was  predicted.  Pamphlets  were  circulated 
and  suppressed;  there  were  various  conferences 
at  York  House  between  the  different  statesmen 
and  Essex;  and  it  was  ultimately  determined  that 
the  matter  should  be  investigated,  not  by  public 
accusation,  but  by  a  declaration  in  the  Star  Cham 
ber,  in  the  absence  of  Essex,  of  the  nature  of  his 
misconduct.  Such  was  the  result  of  the  queen's 
conflict  between  public  opinion  and  her  affection 
for  Essex.6 

In  this  perplexity  she  consulted  Bacon,  who 
from  this,  and  from  any  proceeding,  earnestly 
dissuaded  the  queen,  and  warned  her  that,  from 
the  popularity  of  Essex  and  this  unusual  mode 
of  accusation,  it  would  be  said  that  justice  had 
her  balance  taken  from  her;  and  that,  instead  of 
promoting,  it  would  interrupt  the  public  tranquil 
lity.  She  heard  and  was  offended  with  his  advice, 
and  acted  in  direct  opposition  to  it.  At  an  as 
sembly  of  privy  councillors,  of  judges,  and  of 
statesmen,  held  on  the  30th  of  November,  they 
declared,  without  his  being  heard  in  his  defence, 
the  nature  of  Essex's  misconduct;  a  proceeding 
which,  as  Bacon  foretold,  and  which  the  queen 
too  late  acknowledged,  aggravated  the  public  dis 
content.  At  this  assembly  Bacon  was  not  pre 
sent,  which,  when  his  absence  was  mentioned  by 
the  queen,  he  excused  by  indisposition.7 

*  Bacon's  Apology,  vol.  ii.  p.  336. 
s  Sydney  Papers,  131—139. 

*  Bacon's  Apology,  vol.  ii.  p.  340. 


LIFE  OF  BACON 


XXXlll 


Bacon's  account  of  this  proceeding  is  as  fol 
lows  :  "  Immediately  after  the  queen  had  thought 
of  a  course  (which  was  also  executed)  to  have 
somewhat  published  in  the  Star  Chamber,  for  the 
satisfaction  of  the  world,  touching1  my  lord  of 
Essex  his  restraint,  and  my  lord  of  Essex  not  to 
be  called  to  it,  but  occasion  to  be  taken  by  reason 
of  some  libels  then  dispersed ;  which  when  her 
majesty  propounded  unto  me,  I  was  utterly  against 
it,  and  told  her  plainly  that  the  people  would  say, 
that  my  lord  was  wounded  upon  his  back,  and 
that  justice  had  her  balance  taken  from  her,  which 
ever  consisted  of  an  accusation  and  defence,  with 
many  other  quick  and  significant  terms  to  that 
purpose;  insomuch  that  I  remember  I  said,  that 
my  lord  in  foro  famac  was  too  hard  for  her;  and 
therefore  wished  her,  as  I  had  done  before,  to 
wrap  it  up  privately :  and  certainly  I  offended  her 
at  that  time,  which  was  rare  with  me ;  for  I  call 
to  mind  that  both  the  Christmas,  Lent,  and  Easter 
Term  following,  though  I  came  divers  times  to 
her  upon  law  business,  yet  methought  her  face 
and  manner  was  not  so  clear  and  open  to  me,  as 
it  was  at  the  first.  But  towards  the  end  of  Easter 
term,  her  majesty  brake  with  me,  and  told  me 
that  she  had  found  my  words  true,  for  that  the 
proceeding  in  the  Star  Chamber  had  done  no 
good,  but  rather  kindled  factious  bruits,  as  she 
termed  them,  than  quenched  them."1 

If  the  partisans  of  Essex  had  acted  with  the 
cautious  wisdom  of  Bacon,  the  queen's  affections 
undisturbed  would  have  run  kindly  into  their  old 
channel,  but  his  followers,  by  new  seditious  dis 
courses  and  offensive  placards,  never  gave  her 
indignation  time  to  cool.  About  Christinas,  Essex, 
from  agitation  of  mind,  and  protracted  confine 
ment,  fell  into  a  dangerous  illness,  and  the  queen 
sent  to  him  some  kind  messages  by  her  own  phy 
sician,  but  his  enemies  persuaded  her  that  his  ill 
ness  was  partly  feigned ;  and  when  at  last  his 
near  approach  to  death  softened  the  queen  in  his 
favour,  the  injudicious  expressions  of  those  di 
vines  who  publicly  prayed  for  him,  amounting  to 
sedition,  entirely  hardened  her  heart  against  him. 
Upon  the  earl's  recovery,  and  after  some  months' 
patient  endurance  on  his  part,  the  queen  desired 
to  restore  him  to  favour;  and  on  the  19th  of 
March  Essex  was  removed  to  his  own  house,  in 
the  custody  of  Sir  Richard  Barkley.3 

About  three  years  previous  to  his  accepting  the 
command  in  Ireland,  Essex  published  a  tract,  en 
titled  "  An  Apologie  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  against 
those  which  jealously  and  maliciously  tax  him  to 
be  the  hinderer  of  the  peace  and  quiet  of  his 
country."  This  tract  originated,  as  it  seems,  in 
an  admonition  of  Bacon's,  which  he  thus  states : 
"  I  remember,  upon  his  voyage  to  the  islands,  I 
saw  every  spring  put  forth  such  actions  of  charge 
and  provocation,  that  I  said  to  him,  My  lord,  when 

«  Sydney  Papers,  vol.  ii.  p.  138—164. 
a  Sydney  Papers,  149. 

VOL.  I._(5) 


1 1  came  first  unto  you  I  took  you  for  a  physician 
that  desired  to  cure  the  diseases  of  the  state;  but 
now  I  doubt  you  will  be  like  those  physicians 
which  can  be  content  to  keep  their  patients  low, 
because  they  would  always  be  in  request :  which 
plainness  he  nevertheless  took  very  well,  as  he 
had  an  excellent  ear,  and  was  patientissimus  veri, 
and  assured  me  the  case  of  the  realm  required  it ; 
and  I  think  this  speech  of  mine,  and  the  like  re 
newed  afterwards,  pricked  him  to  write  that  apo 
logy  which  is  in  many  men's  hands."3 

Essex  had  scarcely  been  liberated,  when  the 
Apology  was  reprinted  by  some  injudicious  par 
tisan.  The  queen,  greatly  exasperated,  ordered 
two  of  the  printers  to  be  imprisoned,  and  medi 
tated  proceedings  against  Essex;  but  he  having 
written  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  va 
rious  of  his  friends,  and  having  ordered  the  pub 
lishers  to  suppress  the  work,  the  storm  was 
averted.4  The  spirit  in  which  the  republication 
of  this  tract  originated  extended  to  the  circula 
tion  of  other  libels,5  so  reflecting  upon  the  coiv 
duct  of  the  queen,  that  she  said  the  subject  should 
be  publicly  examined ;  ar-d,  acknowledging  the 
foresight  of  Bacon  with  Aspect  to  the  former  in 
quiry,  she  consulted  him  as  to  the  expediency  of 
proceeding  by  information. 

Against  this  or  any  proceeding  Bacon  earnestly 
protested ;  and,  although  the  honest  expression 
of  his  sentiments  so  much  offended  the  queen 
that  she  rose  from  him  in  displeasure,  it  had  the 
effect  of  suspending  her  determination  for  some 
weeks,  though  she  ultimately  ordered  that  Essex 
should  be  accused  in  the  Star  Chamber. 

The  following  is  Bacon's  account  of  this  reso 
lution  :  "  After  this,  during  the  while  since  my 
lord  was  committed  to  my  lord  keepers,  I  came 
divers  times  to  the  queen,  as  I  had  used  to  do, 
about  causes  of  her  revenue  and  law  business : 
when  the  queen  at  any  time  asked  min£  opinion 
of  my  lord's  case,  I  ever  in  one  tenor,  besought 
her  majesty  to  be  advised  again  and  again,  how 
she  brought  the  cause  into  any  public  question : 
nay,  I  went  further,  for  I  told  her  my  lord  was  an 
eloquent  and  well  spoken  man,  and  besides  his 
eloquence  of  nature  or  art,  he  had  an  eloquence 
of  accident  which  passed  them  both,  which  was 
the  pity  and  benevolence  of  his  hearers;  and 
therefore  wished  the  conclusion  might  be,  that 
they  might  wrap  it  up  privately  between  them 
selves,  and  that  she  would  restore  my  lord  to  his 
former  attendance,  with  some  addition  of  honour 
to  take  away  discontent.  But  towards  the  end 
of  Easter  term  her  majesty  brake  with  me,  and 
told  me  that  she  had  found  my  words  true,  for 
that  the  proceeding  in  the  Star  Chamber  had  done 
no  good,  but  rather  kindled  factious  bruits  (as 
she  termed  them)  than  quenched  them,  and  there 
fore  that  she  was  determined  now  for  the  satis 

»  Bacon's  Apology,  vol.  ii.  p.  335. 

4  Sydney  Papers,  vol.  ii.  182—187.  191—193. 

*  Sydney  Papers,  vol.  ii.  196—199. 


XXXIV 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


faction  of  the  world,  to  proceed  against  my  lord 
in  the  Star  Chamber,  by  an  information  ore  tenus, 
and  to  have  my  lord  brought  to  his  answer;  how- 
beit  she  said,  she  would  assure  me  that  whatso 
ever  she  did  should  be  towards  my  lord  ad  castiga- 
iionem,  et  non  ad  destructionem,  as  indeed  she  had 
often  repeated  the  same  phrase  before:  where- 
unto  I  said,  to  the  end  utterly  to  divert  her, 
Madam,  if  you  will  have  me  speak  to  you  in  this 
argument,  I  must  speak  to  you  as  Friar  Bacon's 
head  spake,  that  said  first,  Time  is,  and  then  Time 
was,  and  Time  would  never  be ;  for  certainly, 
said  I,  it  is  now  far  too  late,  the  matter  is  cold, 
and  hath  taken  too  much  wind;  whereat  she 
seemed  again  offended,  and  rose  from  me,  and 
that  resolution  for  a  while  continued ;  and  after, 
in  the  beginning  of  Midsummer  term,  I  attending 
her,  and  finding  her  settled  in  that  resolution, 
which  I  heard  of  also  otherwise,  she  falling  upon 
the  like  speech,  it  is  true,  that  seeing  no  other 
remedy,  I  said  to  her  slightly,  Why,  madam,  if 
you  will  needs  have  a  proceeding,  you  were  best 
have  it  in  some  such  sort  as  Ovid  spake  of  his 
mistress,  Est  aliquid  luce  patente  minus,  to  make 
a  council-table  matter  of  it,  and  there  an  end; 
which  speech  again  she  seemed  to  take  in  ill  part, 
but  yet  I  think  it  did  good  at  that  time,  and 
helped  to  divert  that  course  of  proceeding  by  in 
formation  in  the  Star  Chamber.  Nevertheless, 
aftenvurds  it  pleased  her  to  make  a  more  solemn 
matter  of  the  proceeding,  and  some  few  days 
after,  when  order  was  given  that  the  matter  should 
be  heard  at  York  House,  before  an  assembly  of 
councillors,  peers,  and  judges,  and  some  audience 
of  men  of  quality  to  be  admitted." 

Such  were  the  measures  adopted  by  the  queen 
to  dispel,  as  she  termed  them,  "the  bruits  and 
malicious  imputations"  of  her  people ;  but,  jea 
lous  of  their  affections,  she  resented  every  mur 
mur  of  public  disapprobation  by  some  new  seve 
rity  to  Essex ;  and  her  conduct,  neither  marked 
by  strict  justice,  or  generous  forgiveness,  exhi 
bited  more  of  the  caprice  of  an  angry  woman  than 
the  steady  resentment  of  an  offended  monarch. 
What  calamities  would  have  been  averted,  if,  in 
stead  of  suffering  herself  to  be  hurried  by  this 
conflict  of  agitated  feelings,  the  queen  had  at 
tended  to  the  advice  of  Bacon,  whose  care  for  her 
honour,  and  love  for  his  friend,  might  have  been 
safely  trusted,  and  who,  looking  through  the  pre 
sent,  decided  upon  consequences  with  a  certainty 
almost  prophetic.  The  most  profound  statesman 
of  the  present  day,  possessed  of  all  the  light  which 
history  gives  him,  can  add  nothing  to  the  prudent 
politic  course  which  Bacon  pointed  out  to  the 
queen.  She  rejected  this  advice  with  a  blind 
despotism  that  would  neither  be  counselled  with 
or  against  her  inclinations,  and  fearing  and  sus 
pecting  all  around  her,  ruined  the  man  she  wished 
to  save,  and  eventually  made  total  wreck  of  her 
own  peace  of  mind. 


It  was  determined  that  proceedings  should  be 
instituted ;  but,  as  the  queen  assured  Bacon,  only 
" ad  castigationem  non  ad  destructionem"  not  to 
taint  the  character  of  Essex,  by  which  he  might 
be  rendered  unable  to  bear  office  about  her  person, 
but  before  a  selected  council,  "inter  domesticos 
parities,  non  luc;  forensi."  This  resolution  having 
been  formed,  the  queen's  counsel  learned  in  the 
law,  were  assembled  to  determine  upon  the  mode 
of  proceeding.  At  this  meeting,  it  was  said  by 
one  of  the  courtiers,  that  her  majesty  was  not  re 
solved  whether  Mr.  Bacon  should  act  in  this  trial 
as  one  of  her  counsel.  What  must  have  passed 
in  his  mind  when  he  heard  this  observation !  He 
knew  enough  of  the  common  charities  of  courts 
to  suspect  every  thing.  He  knew  that  the  queen 
looked  with  great  jealousy  and  distrust  at  his 
having  "crossed  her  disposition"  by  his  steady 
friendship  for  Essex.  He  saw,  therefore,  that 
whether  this  remark  was  a  stratagem  to  sound 
his  intentions,  or  that  some  attempt  had  been 
made  to  ruin  him  in  the  queen's  opinion,  by  in 
ducing  her  to  suppose  that  he  would  sacrifice  her 
to  the  popular  clamour,  of  which  she  was  too  sen 
sible,  it  required  his  immediate  and  vigilant  atten 
tion.  In  this  situation  of  no  common  difficulty, 
the  conflict  of  his  various  duties,  to  the  queen,  to 
Essex,  and  to  himself,  were  instantly  present 
to  his  mind. 

To  the  queen  he  was  under  the  greatest  obliga 
tion  :  she  was  the  friend  of  his  father,  and  h<*d 
been  his  friend  from  his  infancy ;  she  consulted 
with  him  in  all  her  difficulties ;  she  had  conferred 
upon  him  a  valuable  reversion  of  £2000  a  year, 
had  promoted  him  to  be  her  counsel,  and,  what 
perhaps  was  her  greatest  kindness,  instead  of  hav 
ing  hastily  advanced  him,  she  had,  with  a  conti 
nuance  of  her  friendship,  made  him  bear  the  yoke 
in  his  youth.  Such  were  his  obligations  to  Eli 
zabeth,  of  whom  he  never  spoke  but  with  affection 
for  her  virtues,  and  respect  for  her  commanding 
intellect. 

He  had  also  great  esteem  for  the  virtues  of  Es 
sex,  and  great  admiration  of  the  higher  powers  of 
his  mind.  He  felt  for  him  with  all  the  hopes  and 
fears  of  a  parent  for  a  wayward  child,  and  with 
all  the  affection  of  a  friend,  from  a  deep  feeling  of 
his  constant  regard,  and  the  grateful  recollection 
of  what,  in  the  common  world,  would  be  deemed 
of  more  importance,  an  a^t  of  pecuniary  kindness, 
not,  as  in  these  cases  is  generally  supposed,  to 
purchase,  but  to  procure  his  liberty  of  thought  and 
action. 

Of  his  relative  duties  to  the  queen  and  to  Essex, 
no  man  was  a  more  competent  judge  than  Bacon  : 
no  man  was  better,  none  so  well  grounded  in  the 
true  rules  of  this  difficult  part  of  moral  science. 
In  his  tract  on  Duty,  in  the  Advancement  of  Learn 
ing,  he  truly  says,  "  There  is  formed  in  every 
thing  a  double  nature  of  good ;  the  one  as  every 
thing  is  a  total  or  substantive  in  itself,  the  other 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


XXXV 


as  it  is  a  part  or  member  of  a  greater  body ; 
whereof  the  latter  is  in  degree  the  greater  and  the 
worthier.  This  double  nature  of  good  and  the 
comparative  thereof  is  much  more  engraven  upon 
man,  if  he  degenerate  not,  unto  whom  the  conser 
vation  of  duty  to  the  public  ought  to  be  much 
more  precious  than  the  conservation  of  life  and 
being,  according  to  that  memorable  speech  of  Pom- 
peius  Magnus,  when  being  in  commission  of  pur 
veyance  for  a  famine  at  Rome,  and  being  dissuaded 
with  great  vehemency  and  instance  by  his  friends 
about  him,  that  he  should  not  hazard  himself  to 
sea  in  an  extremity  of  weather,  he  said  only  to 
them, 4  Necesse  est  ut  earn  non  ut  vivam.'  "  And 
when  Essex  proffered  him  assistance,  he,  weigh 
ing  these  duties,  admonished  his  friend  that  this 
was  not  to  interfere  with  his  duty  to  his  sovereign. 
His  words  were,  "  I  must  and  will  ever  acknow 
ledge  my  lord's  love,  trust,  and  favour  towards 
me,  after  the  queen  had  denied  me  the  solicitor's 
place,  when  he  said,  You  have  spent  your  time 
and  thoughts  in  my  matters ;  I  die,  these  were 
his  very  words,  if  I  do  not  somewhat  towards 
your  fortune.  My  answer,  I  remember,  was  that 
for  my  fortune  it  was  no  great  matter  ;  but  that 
his  lordship's  offer  (which  was  of  a  piece  of  land 
worth  about  £1800)  made  me  call  to  mind  what 
was  wont  to  be  said  when  I  was  in  France  of  the 
Duke  of  Guise,  that  he  was  the  greatest  usurer  in 
France,  because  he  had  turned  all  his  estate  into 
obligations.  He  bad  me  take  no  care  for  that, 
and  pressed  it;  whereupon  I  said,  «  My  lord,  I 
see  I  must  be  your  homager,  and  hold  land  of 
your  gift ;  but  do  you  know  the  manner  of  doing 
homage  in  law  1  Always  it  is  with  a  saving  of 
his  faith  to  the  king  and  his  other  lords."1 

His  considerations  were  not,  however,  confined 
to  his  duties  to  the  queen  and  to  Essex,  but  ex 
tended  to  the  peculiar  situation  in  which,  with 
respect  to  his  own  worldly  prospects,  he  was 
placed.  He  saw  that,  if  he  did  not  plead  against 
Essex,  all  his  hopes  of  advancement  might,  with 
out  any  benefit  to  his  friend,  be  destroyed  ;  and 
that  if  he  did  plead  against  him,  he  should  be  ex 
posed  to  obloquy  and  misrepresentation.  The 
consideration  of  his  worldly  prospects  were  to  him 
and  to  the  community  of  great  importance. 

It  is,  perhaps,  to  be  lamented  that,  formed  for 
contemplation,  he  was  induced,  either  by  his  ne 
cessities,  or  any  erroneous  notion  of  the  virtue  of 
activity,  to  engage  in  public  life  ;  but  he  was  al 
ways  unskilful  to  note  the  card  of  prudent  lore, 
and  it  was  his  favourite  opinion  that,  to  dignify 
and  exalt  knowledge, 'contemplation  and  action 
should  be  nearly  and  strongly  conjoined  and  united 
together  :  a  conjunction  like  unto  that  of  the  two 
highest  planets,  Saturn,  the  planet  of  rest  and 
contemplation,  and  Jupiter,  the  planet  of  civil  so 
ciety  and  action. 

[aving  engaged  and  encountered  all  the  dim- 

»  Bacon's  Apology. 


culties  of  his  profession,  he  was  entitled,  by  his 
commanding  intellect,  to  possess  the  power,which, 
although  it  had  not  precedence  in  his  thought?, 
followed  regularly  in  the  train  of  his  duty ;  not 
the  common  vulgar  power,  from  ostentation,  lov 
ing  trivial  pomp  and  city  noise  ;  or  from  ambition, 
which,  like  the  sealed  dove,  mounts  and  mounts 
because  it  is  unable  to  look  about  it ;  but  power 
to  advance  science  and  promote  merit,  according 
to  his  maxim  and  in  the  spirit  of  his  own  words 
"  detur  digniori."  "  Power  to  do  good  is  the  true 
and  lawful  end  of  aspiring ;  for  good  thoughts, 
though  God  accept  them,  yet  towards  men  are 
little  better  than  good  dreams,  except  they  be  put 
in  act ;  and  that  cannot  be  without  power  and 
place,  as  the  vantage  and  commanding  ground." 
With  these  prospects  before  him,  he  could  not  be 
so  weak  as  hastily  to  abandon  them,  by  yielding 
to  that  generous  illusion  by  which  the  noblest 
minds  are  often  raised  in  their  own  esteem  by 
imagined  disinterestedness. 

With  respect  to  his  professional  duties,  he  was 
in  less  difficulty.  He  knew  that  his  conduct  would 
be  subject  "  to  envy  and  peril,"  but  knowing  also 
that  these  aspersions  would  originate  in  good 
feeling,  in  the  supposition  of  ingratitude  and  dis 
regard  of  truth,  he  could  not  be  alarmed  at  the 
clamours  of  those  who  knew  not  what  they  did. 
To  consider  every  suggestion,  in  favour  and  in 
opposition  to  any  opinion,  is,  according  to  his  doc 
trine  in  the  Novum  Organum,  the  only  solid 
foundation  upon  which  any  judgment,  even  in  the 
calm  inquiries  of  philosophy,  can  be  formed.  In 
public  assemblies,  therefore,  agitated  by  passions 
by  which  the  progress  of  truth  is  disturbed,  he  of  all 
men  knew  and  admired  the  wise  constitution  of  our 
courts,  in  which  it  has  been  deemed  expedient, 
that,  to  elicit  truth,  the  judge  should  hear  the  op 
posite  statements  of  the  same  or  of  different  pow 
erful  disinterested  minds,  who  may  be  more  able 
than  the  suitors  to  do  justice  to  the  causes  upon 
which  their  interests  depend.  A  more  efficacious 
mode  to  disentangle  difficulty,  to  expose  false 
hood,  and  discover  truth,  was,  perhaps,  never  de 
vised.  It  prevents  the  influence  of  passions  by 

hich  truth  may  be  impeded,  and  calls  in  aid  every 
intellectual  power  by  which  justice  may  be  ad 
vanced.  He  was  not  likely,  therefore,  to  be  moved 
by  the  censures  of  those  who,  ignorant  of  the  prin 
ciples  upon  which  this  practice  is  founded,  ima 
gine  advocates  to  be  indiscriminate  defenders  of 
right  and  wrong,  instead  of  being  officers  assist 
ing  in  the  administration  of  justice,  and  acting 
under  the  impression  that  truth  is  best  discovered 
by  powerful  statements  on  both  sides  of  the  ques 
tion.  He  was  not  likely  to  be  moved  by  that  ig 
norant  censure  which  mixes  the  counsel  with  his 
client,  instead  of  knowing  that  the  advocate  is  in 
different  on  which  side  he  pleads,  whether  for  the 
most  unfortunate  or  the  most  prosperous,  for  the 
most  virtuous  or  the  most  abandoned  member  of 


XXXV 1 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


the  community ;  and  that,  if  he  were  not  indiffer 
ent, — if  he  were  to  exercise  any  discretion  as  to 
the  party  for  whom  he  pleads,  the  course  of  jus 
tice  would  be  interrupted  by  prejudice  to  the  suitor, 
and  the  exclusion  of  integrity  from  the  profession. 
The  suitor  would  be  prejudiced  in  proportion  to 
the  respectability  of  the  advocate  who  had  shrunk 
from  his  defence,  and  the  weight  of  character  of 
the  counsel  would  be  evidence  in  the  cause.  In 
tegrity  would  be  excluded  from  the  profession, 
as  the  counsel  would  necessarily  be  associated 
with  the  cause  of  his  client ;  with  the  slanderer, 
the  adulterer,  the  murderer,  or  the  traitor,  whom 
it  may  be  his  duty  to  defend. 

Such  were  the  various  conflicting  duties  by 
which  a  common  mind  might  have  been  per 
plexed;  but,  strong  in  knowledge,  he,  without 
embarrassment,  looked  steadily  at  the  undefined 
shapes  of  difficulty  and  danger,  of  possible  mis 
take  or  mischance,  and,  without  any  of  the  vacilla 
tion  in  which  contemplative  genius  is  too  apt  to 
indulge,  he  saw  instantly  the  path  of  his  duty, 
and  steadily  advanced  in  it.  He  saw  that,  if  he 
acted  in  obedience  to  general  rules,  he  ought 
neither  to  desert  the  queen,  or  to  bereave  himself 
of  the  power  to  do  good.  If,  not  adhering  to  ge 
neral  rules,  he  exercised  his  own  understanding 
upon  the  particular  circumstances  of  the  case,  he 
saw  that,  by  yielding  to  popular  feeling,  he  might 
gain  momentary  applause,  might  leave  Essex  to 
a  merciless  opponent,  and,  by  depriving  himself 
of  all  influence  over  the  queen,  might  sacrifice  his 
friend  at  the  foot  of  the  throne. 

Ho  therefore  wrote  instantly  to  the  queen,  and, 
by  this  sagacious  and  determined  conduct,  having 
at  once  defeated  the  stratagems  by  which  it  was 
vainly  hoped  that  he  would  be  entangled,  he,  re 
gardless  of  the  senseless  clamour  of  those  who 
praise  they  know  not  what,  and  know  not  whom ; 
of  those  who  could  neither  be  put  in  possession 
of  his  real  sentiments  towards  Essex,  or  the  pri 
vate  communications  on  his  behalf  with  the  queen, 
went  right  onward  with  his  own,  and  the  appro 
bation  of  intelligence. 

/  The  following  is  Bacon's  own  account  of  this 
extraordinary  event : — And  then  did  some  princi 
pal  counsellors  send  for  us  of  the  learned  counsel, 
and  notify  her  majesty's  pleasure  unto  us :  save 
that  it  was  said  to  me  openly  by  one  of  them,  that 
her  majesty  was  not  yet  resolved  whether  she 
would  have  me  fcrborns  in  the  business  or  no. 
And  hereupon  might  arise  that  other  sinister  and 
untrue  speech,  that  I  hear,  is  raised  of  me,  how  I 
was  a  suitor  to  be  used  against  my  lord  of  Essex 
at  that  time ;  for  it  is  very  true,  that  I  that  knew 
well  what  had  passed  between  the  queen  and  me, 
and  what  occasion  I  had  given  her  both  of  dis 
taste  and  distrust  in  crossing  her  disposition,  by 
standing  steadfastly  for  my  lord  of  Essex,  and 
suspecting  it  also  to  be  a  stratagem  arising  from 
some  particular  emulation,  I  writ  to  her  two  or  three 


words  of  compliment,  signifying  tfo  her  majesty, 
"  That  if  she  would  be  pleased  to  spare  me  in  my 
lord  of  Essex's  cause,  out  of  the  consideration  she 
took  of  my  obligation  towards  him,  I  should  reck 
on  it  for  one  of  her  greatest  favours  :  but  other 
wise  desiring  her  majesty  to  think  that  I  knew 
the  degrees  of  duties;  and  that  no  particular 
obligation  whatsoever  to  any  subject  could  sup 
plant  or  weaken  that  entireness  of  duty  that  I  did 
owe  and  bear  to  her  and  her  service."  And  this 
was  the  goodly  suit  I  made,  being  a  respect  no  man 
that  had  his  wits  could  have  omitted  :  but  never 
theless  I  had  a  farther  reach  in  it ;  for  I  judged  that 
day's  work  would  be  a  full  period  of  any  bitterness 
or  harshness  between  the  queen  and  my  lord  :  and 
therefore,  if  I  declared  myself  fully  according  to 
her  mind  at  that  time,  which  could  not  do  my  lord 
any  manner  of  prejudice,  I  should  keep  my  credit 
with  her  ever  after,  whereby  to  do  my  lord  service. 

The  proceedings  after  this  communication  to 
the  queen  are  thus  stated  by  Bacon : — "  Here 
upon  the  next  news  that  I  heard  was,  that  we 
were  all  sent  for  again ;  and  that  her  majesty's 
pleasure  was,  we  all  should  have  parts  in  the  bu 
siness  ;  and  the  lords  falling  into  distribution  of 
our  parts,  it  was  allotted  to  me,  that  I  should  set 
forth  some  undutiful  carriage  of  my  lord,  in  giving 
occasion  and  countenance  to  a  seditious  pamphlet, 
as  it  was  termed,  which  was  dedicated  unto  him, 
which  was  the  book  before  mentioned  of  King 
Henry  IV.  Whereupon  I  replied  to  that  allot 
ment,  and  said  to  their  lordships,  That  it  was  an 
old  matter,  and  had  no  manner  of  coherence  with 
the  rest  of  the  charge,  being  matters  of  Ireland : 
and  therefore,  that  I  having  been  wronged  by 
bruits  before,  this  would  expose  me  to  them  more ; 
and  it  would  be  said  I  gave  in  evidence  mine  own 
tales.  It  was  answered  again  with  good  shew, 
that  because  it  was  considered  howl  stood  tied  to 
my  lord  of  Essex,  therefore  that  part  was  thought 
fittest  for  me,  which  did  him  least  hurt ;  for  that 
whereas  all  the  rest  was  matter  of  charge  and  ac 
cusation,  this  only  was  but  matter  of  caveat  and 
admonition.  Wherewith,  though  I  was  in  mine 
own  mind  little  satisfied,  because  I  knew  well  a 
man  were  better  to  be  charged  with  some  faults, 
than  admonished  of  some  others  ;  yet  the  conclu 
sion  binding  upon  the  queen's  pleasure  directly, 
'  volens  nolens,'  I  could  not  avoid  that  part  that 
was  laid  upon  me."1 

On  the  5th  June,  1600,  this  trial  took  place. 
It  was  marked  by  the  same  indecision  that  had 
characterized  the  whole  of  the  queen's  conduct. 
To  give  effect  to  her  wishes  that  Essex  should 
be  censured,  not  sentenced,  each  man  had  his 
part  allotted  ;  and  lest  this  mark  of  her  disappro 
bation  should  hereafter  be  urged  against  him,  she 
commanded  that  no  official  record  should  be  kept 
of  the  proceedings,  that  he  might  not  be  rendered 
incapable  of  bearing  office  in  -her  household, 
i  See  Bacon's  Apology,  vol.  ii.  p.  339. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xxxvn 


The  privy  counsel  met  at  the  lord  keeper's 
house,  and  were  assisted  by  noblemen  selected 
for  that  purpose.  The  commissioners  were  eigh 
teen,  the  auditory  about  two  hundred ;  there  was 
much  state  and  solemnity  in  the  assembly,  and 
much  humility  and  contrition  on  the  part  of  Es 
sex,  who  knelt  while  the  commission  was  opened, 
and  so  remained  till  he  had  leave  to  rise.  From 
this  mode  of  conduct,  which,  doubtless,  had  been 
prescribed  to  him,  he  never  departed  but  once 
during  his  examination,  and  he  was  then  reminded 
by  the  lord  treasurer  of  the  course  he  was  expected 
to  pursue. 

The  case  was  opened  by  a  statement,  that  "to 
command  down  the  winds  of  malicious  and  sedi 
tious  rumours  wherewith  men's  conceits  may  have 
been  tossed  to  and  fro,  the  queen  was  pleased  to 
call  the  world  to  an  understanding  of  her  princely 
course  held  towards  the  Earl  of  Essex,  as  well  in 
herebefore  protracting,  as  in  now  proceeding 
against  him,  not  in  the  ordinary  and  open  place 
of  offenders  and  criminals,  which  might  leave  a 
taint  upon  his  honour,  but,  on  account  of  his  pe 
nitence  and  submission,  her  majesty  had  ordered 
that  the  hearing  should  be  before  a  great,  honour 
able,  and  selected  council,  a  full  and  deliberate, 
and  yet  in  respect  a  private,  mild,  and  gracious 
hearing."  The  chief  heads  of  the  accusation 
were  then  stated  by  the  lawyers,  who,  with  the 
exception  of  Bacon,  either  not  in  the  court  secret, 
or  disregarding  their  instructions,  pursued  their 
argument  with  their  usual  pertinacity,  coloured 
by  the  respective  characters  of  the  men,  and  of 
course  by  Sir  Edward  Coke,  with  his  accustomed 
rancour.  Bacon,  on  the  contrary,  though  he  was 
favoured  with  a  part  of  the  charge  least  likely  to 
be  injurious  to  Essex,  still  complained  that  he 
might  injure  his  friend,  and,  though  in  array 
against  him,  evidently  fought  on  his  side. 

To  those  persons  present  who  were  not  already 
apprized  of  the  queen's  wishes,  Bacon's  speech 
would  be  considered  more  consistent  with  his  af 
fection  for  his  friend  than  his  duty  to  the  queen, 
as  it  was  constructed  as  much  as  possible  to  do 
him  service.  "  I  hope,"  he  said,  "  that  my  Lord 
Essex  himself,  and  all  who  now  hear  me,  will 
consider  that  the  particular  bond  of  duty,  which 
I  do  now,  and  ever  will  acknowledge  that  I  owe 
unto  his  lordship,  must  be  sequestered  and  laid 
aside,  in  discharge  of  that  higher  duty,  which  we 
all  owe  unto  the  queen,  whose  grace  and  mercy 
I  cannot  enough  extol ;  whereof  the  earl  is  a  sin 
gular  work,  in  that,  upon  his  humble  suit,  she  is 
content  not,  to  prosecute  him  in  her  court  of  jus 
tice,  the  Star  Chamber,  but,  according  to  his  own 
earnest  desire,  to  remove  that  cup  from  him,  for 
those  are  my  lord's  own  words,  and  doth  now 
suffer  his  cause  to  be  heard  inter  privatos parietts, 
by  way  of  mercy  and  favour  only,  where  no  man 
ner  of  disloyalty  is  laid  to  his  charge ;  for  if  that 
had  been  the  question,  this  had  not  been  the 
/D) 


place."  In  this  strain  he  proceeded  through  tho 
whole  of  his  address. 

He  constantly  kept  in  view  the  queen's  deter 
mination  neither  to  injure  her  favourite  in  person 
nor  in  purse  ;  he  averred  that  there  was  no  charge 
of  disloyalty  ;  he  stated  nothing  as  a  lawyer ; 
nothing  from  his  own  ingenious  mind ;  nothing 
that  could  displease  the  queen ;  he  repeated  only 
passages  from  letters,  in  the  queen's  possession, 
complaining  of  her  cruelty  and  obduracy  ;  topics 
which  she  loved  to  have  set  forth  in  her  inter 
course  with  a  man  whom  she  was  thought  to  have 
too  much  favoured;  he  selected  the  most  affecting 
expressions  from  the  earl's  letter,  and  though  he 
at  last  performed  his  part  of  the  task,  by  touching 
upon  Hayward's  book,  he  established  in  the 
minds  of  the  hearers  the  fact  that  Essex  had 
called  in  the  work  a  week  after  he  learnt  that  it 
was  published. 

To  those  who  are  familiar  with  Bacon's  style, 
and  know  the  fertility  of  his  imagination,  and  the 
force  of  his  reasoning,  it  is  superfluous  to  observe 
that  he  brought  to  this  semblance  of  a  trial  only 
the  shadow  of  a  speech  ;  and  that  under  the  flimsy 
veil  of  an  accuser  there  may  easily  be  detected 
the  face  of  a  friend. 

In  answer  to  these  charges,  Essex,  on  his 
knees,  declared  that,  ever  since  it  had  pleased  her 
majesty  to  remove  that  cup  from  him,  he  had  laid 
aside  all  thought  of  justifying  himself,  or  of  mak 
ing  any  contestation  with  his  sovereign  ;  that  he 
had  made  a  divorce  between  himself  and  the 
world,  and  that,  rather  than  bear  a  charge  of  dis 
loyalty  or  want  of  affection,  he  would  tear  his 
heart  out  of  his  breast  with  his  own  hands.  The 
first  part  of  his  defence  drew  tears  from  many  of 
his  hearers  ;  but,  being  somewhat  touched  by  the 
sharp  speeches  and  rhetorical  flourishes  of  his 
accusers,  he  expressed  himself  with  so  much 
heat,  before  he  had  gone  half  through  with  his 
reply,  that  he  was  interrupted  by  the  lord  keeper, 
who  told  him  "  this  was  not  the  course  to  do  him 
good  ;  that  he  would  do  well  to  commit  himself 
to  her  majesty's  mercy  ;  that  he  was  acquitted  by 
all  present  of  disloyalty,  of  which  he  did  not 
stand  charged,  but  of  disobedience  and  contempt; 
and  if  he  meant  to  say  that  he  had  disobeyed, 
without  an  intention  of  disobedience,  it  was  fri 
volous  and  absurd." 

In  pronouncing  the  censure,  the  lord  keeper 
declared,  that  if  Essex  had  been  tried  elsewhere, 
and  in  another  manner,  a  great  fine  and  imprison 
ment  for  life  must  have  been  his  sentence,  but  as 
he  wras  in  a  course  of  favour,  his  censure  was, 
"  That  the  Earl  of  Essex  should  be  suspended 
from  his  offices,  and  continue  a  prisoner  in  his 
own  house  till  it  pleased  her  majesty  to  release 
him."  The  Earl  of  Cumberland  declared,  that, 
if  he  thought  the  censure  was  to  stand,  he  would 
ask  more  time,  for  it  seemed  to  him  somewhat  se 
vere  ;  and  intimated  how  easily  a  general  com- 


XXXV111 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


mander  might  incur  the  like,  but,  in  confidence  of 
her  majesty's  mercy,  he  agreed  with  the  rest. 

Of  this  day's  proceedings  a  confused  and  im 
perfect  account  has  been  published  by  several 
historians,1  and  an  unfair  view  taken  of  the 
conduct  of  Bacon,  who  could  not  have  any  as 
signable  motive  for  the  course  they  have  attributed 
to  him.  The  queen  was  evidently  determined  to 
protect  her  favourite.  The  Cecils  had  abated 
their  animosity.  The  people  were  anxious  for 
his  reinstatement.  Anthony  Bacon  was  at  this 
time  living  under  the  protection  of  Essex,  and 
the  brothers  were  in  constant  and  affectionate  in 
tercourse. 

The  sentence  had  scarcely  been  pronounced,  (6th 
June,  1600,)  when  Bacon's  anxiety  for  his  friend 
again  manifested  itself. .  On  the  very  next  day  he 
attended  the  queen,  fully  resolved  to  exert  his  ut 
most  endeavours  to  restore  Essex  again  to  favour. 
The  account  of  his  interview  with  the  queen, 
from  which  his  friendship  and  the  queen's  affection 
for  Essex  may  be  seen,  is  thus  stated  by  Bacon : 
"  As  soon  as  this  day  was  past,  I  lost  no  time ; 
but  the  very  next  day  following,  as  I  remember, 
I  attended  her  majesty,  fully  resolved  to  try  and 
put  in  use  my  utmost  endeavour,  so  far  as  I  in 
my  weakness  could  give  furtherance,  to  bring  my 
lord  again  speedily  into  court  and  favour;  and 
knowing,  as  I  supposed  at  least,  how  the  queen 
was  to  be  used,  I  thought  that  to  make  her  con 
ceive  that  the  matter  went  well  then,  was  the 
way  to  make  her  leave  off  there ;  and  I  remem 
ber  well  I  said  to  her,  'You  have  now,  madam, 
obtained  victory  over  two  things,  which  the 
greatest  princes  in  the  world  cannot  at  their  wills 
subdue;  the  one  is  over  fame  ;  the  other  is  over 
a  great  mind  :  for  surely  the  world  is  now,  I  hope, 
reasonably  well  satisfied ;  and  for  my  lord,  he 
did  shew  that  humiliation  towards  your  majesty, 
at  I  am  persuaded  he  was  never  in  his  lifetime 
more  fit  for  your  majesty's  favour  than  he  is  now  : 
therefore,  if  your  majesty  will  not  mar  it  by  lin 
gering,  but  give  over  at  the  best,  and  now  you 
have  made  so  good  a  full  point,  receive  him  again 
with  tenderness,  I  shall  then  think  that  all  that  is 
past  is  for  the  best.'  Whereat,  I  remember,  she 
took  exceeding  great  contentment,  and  did  often 
iterate  and  put  me  in  mind,  that  she  had  ever 
said,  that  her  proceedings  should  be  '  ad  repara- 
tionem,'  and  not  '  ad  ruinam ;'  as  who  saith,  that 
now  was  the  time  I  should  well  perceive  that  that 
saying  of  her's  should  prove  true.  And  farther 
she  willed  me  to  set  down  in  writing  all  that 
passed  that  day."2 

In  a  few  days  Bacon  waited  upon  the  queen 
with  the  narrative,  who,  upon  hearing  him  read 
Essex's  answer,  which  was  his  principal  care, 
"was  exceedingly  moved  in  kindness  and  relent- 
inff,"  and  said,  "  How  well  you  have  expressed 

I  See  particularly  Hume. 
^  See  Bacon's  Apology. 


my  lord's  part :  I  perceive  old  love  will  not  easily 
be  forgotten."  Availing  himself  of  these  favour 
able  dispositions,  Bacon  ventured  to  say  to  the 
queen,  "he  hoped  she  meant  that  of  herself;" 
and  in  the  conclusion  suggested  that  it  might  be 
expedient  not  to  let  this  matter  go  forth  to  the 
public,  since  by  her  own  command  no  record  had 
been  kept,  and  that  it  was  not  well  to  do  that 
popularly  which  she  had  not  suffered  to  be  done 
judicially.  The  queen  assented,  and  the  narra 
tive  was  suppressed.3 

Amidst  these  exertions,  known  at  that  time 
only  to  the  queen,  to  Essex,  and  to  his  confiden 
tial  friends,  Bacon  was  exposed  to  great  obloquy, 
and,  at  the  time  when  he  was  thinking  only  how 
he  could  most  and  best  serve  his  friend,  he  was 
threatened  by  the  populace  with  personal  vio 
lence,  as  one  who  had  deserted  and  betrayed 
him.  Unmoved  by  such  clamour,  upon  which 
he  had  calculated,4  he  went  right  onward  in  his 
course. 

To  Sir  Robert  Cecil,  and  to  Lord  Henry  How 
ard,  the  confidential  friend  of  Essex,  and  who 
had  willingly  shared  his  banishment  from  court, 
he  indignantly  complained  of  these  slanders  and 
threats.  To  Lord  Howard  he  says  :5  "  My  Lord, 
There  be  very  few  besides  yourself,  to  whom  I 
would  perform  this  respect.  For  I  contemn  men- 
daciafamx,  as  it  walks  among  inferiors,  though 
I  neglect  it  not,  as  it  may  have  entrance  into  some 

3  Bacon's  account  is  as  follows  : — I  obeyed  her  command 
ment,  and  within  some  few  days  after  brought  her  again  the 
narration,  which  I  did  read  unto  her  in  two  several  after 
noons  ;  and  when  I  came  to  that  part  that  set  forth  my  lord's 
own  answer,  which  was  my  principal  care,  I  do  well  bear  in 
mind  that  she  was  extraordinarily  moved  with  it,  in  kindness 
and  relenting  towards  my  lord  :  and  told  rne  afterwards,  speak 
ing  how  well  I  had  expressed  my  lord's  part,  that  she  perceiv 
ed  old  love  would  not  easily  be  forgotten  :  whereunto  I  answer 
ed  suddenly,  that  I  hoped  she  meant  that  by  herself.  But  in 
conclusion,  I  did  advise  her,  that  now  she  had  taken  a  repre 
sentation  of  the  matter  to  herself,  that  she  would  lei  it  go  no 
farther:  "  For,  madam,"  said  I,  "  the  fire  blazeth  we!l  already, 
what  should  you  tumble  it  ?  And  besides,  it  may  please 
you  to  keep  a  convenience  with  yourself  in  this  case  ;  for 
since  your  express  direction  was,  there  should  be  no  register 
nor  clerk  to  take  this  sentence,  nor  no  record  or  memorial 
made  up  of  the  proceeding,  why  should  you  now  do  that  po 
pularly,  which  you  would  not  admit  to  be  done  judicially  V 
Whereupon  she  did  agree  that  that  writing  should  be  sup 
pressed  ;  and  I  think  there  were  not  five  persons  that  ever 
saw  it. — Apology. 

4  His  Apology  to  the  Earl  of  Devonshire  contains  various 
observations    to    this  effect : — I  was   not  so  unseen  in  the 
world,  but  I  knew  the  condition  was  subject  to  envy  and  peril, 
&c.,  but  I  resolved  to  endure  it,  in  expectation  of  better. 
According  to  the  ordinary  charities  of  court,  it  was  given 
out,  that  I  was  one  of  them  that  incensed  the  queen  against 
my  lord  of  Essex  ;  and  I  must  give  this  testimony  to  my  lord 
Cecil,  that  one  time  in  his  house  at  the  Savoy,  he  dealt  with 
me  directly,  and  said  to  me,  "  Cousin,  I  hear  it,  but  I  believe 
it  not,  that  you  should  do  some  ill  office  to  my  lord  of  Essex  ; 
for  iny  part,  I  am  merely  passive,  and  not  active  in  this  ac 
tion  ;  and  I  follow  the  queen,  and  that  heavily,  and  1  lead 
her  not ;  my  lord  of  Essex  is  one  that  in  nature  I  couJd  con 
sent  with  as  well  as  with  any  one  living ;  the  queen  indeed 
is  my  sovereign,  and  I  am  her  creature,  I  may  not  lose  her4 
and  the  same  course  I  would  wish  you  to  take."  Whereupoa 
I  satisfied  him  how  far  I  was  from  any  sucU  mind. 

5  Birch,  459. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


XXXIX 


ears.  For  your  lordship's  love,  rooted  upon  good  | 
opinion,  I  esteem  it  highly,  because  I  have  tasted 
of  the  fruits  of  it ;  and  we  both  have  tasted  of  the 
best  waters,  in  my  account,  to  knit  minds  toge 
ther.  There  is  shaped  a  tale  in  London's  forge, 
that  beateth  apace  at  this  time,  that  I  should  de 
liver  opinion  to  the  queen,  in  my  lord  of  Essex's 
cause.  First,  that  it  was  premunire,  and  now 
last,  that  it  was  high  treason ;  and  this  opinion, 
to  be  in  opposition  and  encounter  of  the  lord 
chief  justice's  opinion,  and  the  attorney  gene 
ral's.  My  lord,  I  thank  God,  my  wit  serveth  me 
not  to  deliver  any  opinion  to  the  queen,  which  my 
stomach  serveth  me  not  to  maintain;  one  and  the 
same  conscience  of  duty  guiding  me  and  fortify 
ing  me.  But  the  untruth  of  this  fable,  God  and 
my  sovereign  can  witness,  and  there  I  leave  it ; 
knowing  no  more  remedy  against  lies  than  others 
do  against  libels.  The  root,  no  question  of  it,  is, 
partly  some  light-headed  envy  at  my  accesses 
to  her  majesty ;  which  being  begun,  and  con 
tinued  since  my  childhood,  as  long  as  her  majesty 
shall  think  me  worthy  of  them,  I  scorn  those  that 
shall  think  the  contrary.  And  another  reason 
is,  the  aspersion  of  this  tale  and  the  envy  thereof, 
upon  some  greater  man,  in  regard  of  my  nearness. 
And  therefore,  my  lord,  I  pray  you  answer  for  me 
to  any  person  that  you  think  worthy  your  own 
reply  and  my  defence.  For  my  lord  of  Essex,  I 
am  not  servile  to  him,  having  regard  to  my  supe 
rior's  duty.  1  have  been  much  bound  unto  him  ; 
and,  on  the  other  side,  I  have  spent  more  time  and 
more  thoughts  about  his  well-doing  than  ever  I  did 
about  mine  own.  I  pray  God  you  his  friends 
amongst  you  be  in  the  right.  Nulla  remedia,  tarn 
facient  dolor  em  ^  quam  quaz  sunt  salutaria.  For  my 
part,  I  have  deserved  better  than  to  have  my  name 
objected  to  envy,  or  my  life  to  a  ruffian's  violence. 
But  I  have  the  privy  coat  of  a  good  conscience. 
I  am  sure  these  courses  and  bruits  hurt  my  lord 
more  than  all.  So  having  written  to  your  lord 
ship,  I  desire  exceedingly  to  be  preferred  in  your 
good  opinion  and  love.  And  so  leave  you  to 
God's  goodness." 

The  answer  of  Lord  Howard  to  this  letter,  the 
best  answer  that  could  be  made  to  the  slanderers 
of  whom  Bacon  complains,  is  as  follows  :  "  I 
might  be  thought  unworthy  of  that  good  conceit 
you  hold  of  me,  good  Mr.  Bacon,  if  I  did  not  sym 
pathize  with  so  sensitive  a  mind  in  this  smart  of 
wrongful  imputation  of  unthankfulness.  You  were 
the  first  that  gave  me  notice,  I  protest,  at  Rich 
mond  of  the  rumour,  though  within  two  days  after 
I  heard  more  than  I  would  of  it :  but  as  you  suffer 
more  than  you  deserve,  so  I  cannot  believe  what 
the  greedy  malice  of  the  world  hath  laid  upon 
you.  The  travels  of  that  worthy  gentleman  in 
your  behalf,  when  you  stood  for  a  place  of  credit; 
the  delight  which  he  hath  ever  taken  in  your  com 
pany  ;  his  grief  that  he  could  not  seal  up  assu 
rance  of  his  love  by  fruits,  effects,  and  offices  pro 


portionable  to  an  infinite  desire ;  his  study,  in 
my  knowledge,  to  engage  your  love  by  the  best 
means  he  could  devise,  are  forcible  persuasions 
and  instances  to  make  me  judge  that  a  gentleman 
so  well  born,  a  wise  gentleman  so  well  levelled 
a  gentleman  so  highly  valued  by  a  person  of  his 
virtue,  worth,  and  quality,  will  rather  hunt  after 
all  occasions  of  expressing  thankfulness,  so  far  as 
duty  doth  permit,  than  either  ornit  opportunity  or 
increase  indignation.  No  man  alive  out  of  the 
thoughts  of  judgment,  the  ground  of  knowledge, 
and  lesson  of  experience,  is  better^able  to  distin 
guish  betwixt  public  and  private  offices,  and  di 
rect  measure  in  keeping  a  measure  in  discharge 
of  both,  to  which  I  will  refer  you  for  the  finding 
out  of  the  golden  number.  In  my  own  particular 
opinion  I  esteem  of  you  as  I  have  ever  done,  and 
your  rare  parts  deserve ;  and  so  far  as  my  voice 
hath  credit,  justify  your  credit  according  to  the 
warrant  of  your  profession,  and  the  store  of  my 
best  wishes  in  all  degrees  towards  you,  &c.  My 
credit  is  so  weak  in  working  any  strange  effect 
of  friendship  where  I  would  do  most,  as  to  speak 
of  blossoms  without  giving  tastes  of  fruits  were 
idleness ;  but  if  you  will  give  credit  to  my  words, 
it  is  not  long  since  I  gave  testimony  of  my  good 
affection  in  the  ear  of  one  that  neither  wants  de 
sire  nor  means  to  do  for  you.  Thus  wishing  to 
your  credit  that  allowance  of  respect  and  rever 
ence  which  your  wise  and  honest  letter  doth  de 
serve,  and  resting  ever  ready  to  relieve  all  minds 
(so  far  as  my  ability  and  means  will  stretch)  that 
groan  under  the  burden  of  undeserved  wrong,  I 
commend  you  to  God's  protection,  and  myself  to 
the  best  use  you  will  make  of  me.  In  haste  from' 
my  lodging,"  &c. 

The  partisans  of  Essex  again  interfered,  to 
raise  the  flames  which  Bacon  had  so  judiciously 
suppressed,  and  again  were  the  queen's  ministers 
compelled  to  check  their  imprudence. 

On  the  12th  of  June,  1  GOO,  the  lord  keeper,  in  his 
usual  speech  in  the  Star  Chamber  to  the  country 
gentlemen,  mentioned  the  late  proceeding  against 
the  Earl  of  Essex,  who,  he  observed,  had  acknow 
ledged  his  errors,  and  expressed  his  sorrow  for 
them ;  but  that  some  wicked  persons  had  inter 
meddled  by  libelling  what  her  majesty  had  done 
in  that  point,  which  occasioned  a  proclamation  to 
be  published  against  such  seditious  practices.1 

Notwithstanding  this  ill-advised  conduct,  the 
queen  was  desirous  to  remove  from  Essex  the  re 
straint  of  a  keeper,  when  her  indignation  was 
again  excited  by  a  rumour,  that  Essex  had  been 
duly  authorized  by  her  to  create  knights,  though 
his  having  conferred  that  honour  had  been  made 
a  charge  against  him  before  the  commissioners. 
In  the  first  moment  of  her  displeasure  she  deter 
mined  to  rescind  the  honours  he  had  bestowed 
Bacon  advised  her  against  this  step,  and  recom 
mended  that  a  letter  written  by  her  own  hand  to 
1  Sydney  Papers,  vol.  ii.  201. 


xl 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Esses,  when  in  Ireland,  should  be  made  public, 
in  which  she  had  commanded  to  the  contrary. 
Upon  sending  to  Essex  for  her  letter,  he  re 
turned  a  submissive  reply,  but  said  that  it  was 
either  lost  or  mislaid  ;  and,  though  her  anger  was 
great  at  the  non-production  of  this  document,  she, 
early  in  the  next  month,  ordered  him  to  be  libe 
rated  from  his  keeper,  but  not  to  quit  London.1 

Upon  this  release,  which  his  declining  health 
rendered  necessary,  he  solicited  permission  to  re 
tire  to  the  house  of  a  relation  near  Reading ;  a 
permission  wfcich  the  queen,  although  she  com 
manded  him  to  dismiss  two  of  his  friends  from 
his  service,  and  although  disturbed  and  dis 
pleased,  seemed  inclined  to  grant,  as  she  listened 
to  friendly  communications  made  on  his  behalf, 
and  received  letters  from  him,2  in  which,  having, 
discovered  the  wisdom  of  his  friend's  advice, 
"that  the  queen  could  not  be  controlled  by  resist 
ance,"  he  was  endeavouring  to  regain  by  obse 
quiousness  the  ascendancy  which  he  had  lost  by 
his  rude  and  headstrong  violence ;  assuring  the 
queen,  "  that  he  kissed  her  royal  hand  and  the  rod 
which  had  corrected  him ;  that  he  could  never  re 
cover  his  wonted  joy  till  he  beheld  her  comfort 
able  eyes,  which  had  been  his  guiding  stars,  and 
by  the  conduct  whereof  he  had  sailed  most  hap 
pily  whilst  he  held  his  course  in  a  just  latitude  ; 
that  now  he  was  determined  to  repent  him  of  his 
offence,  and  to  say  with  Nebuchodonosor,  my 
dwelling  is  with  the  beast  of  the  field,  to  eat  grass 
as  an  ox,  and  to  be  wet  with  the  dew  of  heaven, 
till  it  shall  please  the  queen  to  restore  my  under 
standing  to  me."3 

This  abasement  gratified  Elizabeth,  who  said, 
"  though  she  did  not  expect  that  his  deeds  would 
accord  with  his  words,  yet,  if  this  could  be 
brought  to  pass  with  the  furnace,  she  should  be 
more  favourable  to  the  profession  of  alchymy." 

Bacon,  who  was  too  wise  to  cross  Elizabeth  in 
the  spring-tide  of  her  anger,  without  waiting  till 

1  Sydney  Papers,  p.  201.    Her  majesty  is  greatly  troubled 
with  the  last  number  of  knights  made  by  the  Earl  of  Essex 
in  Ireland,  and  purposes,  by  public  proclamation,  to  com 
mand  them  from  the  place  due  to  their  dignity  ;  and  that  no 
ancient  gentleman  of  the  kingdom  gave  them  any  place.   The 
warrant  was  signed,  as  I  heard ;  but  by  Mr.  Secretary's  very 
special  care  and  credit,  it  is  stayed   till  Sunday  the  lords 
meet  in  court.     Mr.  Bacon  is  thought  to  be  the  man  that 
moves  her  majesty  unto  it,  affirming,  that  by  the  law  the  earl 
had  no  authority  to  make  them,  being  by  her  majesty's  own 
letter,  of  her  own  hand  written,  commanded  the  contrary. 

Her  majesty  had  ordered  the  lord  keeper  to  remove  my 
lord  of  Essex's  keeper  from  him;  but  a  while  after,  being 
somewhat  troubled  with  the  remembrance  of  his  making  so 
many  knights,  made  a  stay  of  her  former  order,  and  sent 
unto  the  earl  for  her  own  letter,  which  she  writ  unto  him  to 
command  him  to  make  none.  But  with  a  very  submissive 
letter,  he  returned  answer  that  he  had  lost  it  or  mislaid  it, 
for  he  could  not  find  it ;  which  somewhat  displeases  her  ma 
jesty.  As  yet  his  liberty  stands  upon  these  terms.  <fcc..  &c 
—28  June,  1600. 

2  Sydney  Papers,  205-7-8-12. 

3  Camden,  169.     Birch's  Elizabeth,  461.     One  of  the  letters 
written  by  Mr.   Francis   Bacon   for  the  earl,  and  printed 
among  the  works  of  the  former,  beginning  with  these  words, 

'It  were  great  simplicity  in  me,"  &c.,  is  much  inferior  to 


it  was  ebbing-water,  now  exerted  all  his  power  to 
reconcile  her  to  her  favourite,  whom,  in  his  many 
accesses  to  the  queen,  he  availed  himself  of  every 
opportunity  to  serve;  and,  although  he  could  not, 
without  exciting  her  displeasure,  directly  com 
municate  with  him,  he,  by  the  intervention  of  a 
friend,  regularly  acquainted  him  with  the  pro 
gress  he  made  in  abating  the  queen's  anger; 
and,  the  moment  he  was  restored  to  liberty,  the 
assurances  of  his  exertions  were  repeated  by 
letter,  and  through  the  whole  summer  were  regu 
larly  imparted  to  Essex. 

In  the  same  spirit,  and  with  the  same  parental 
anxiety  by  which  all  Bacon's  conduct  had  been 
influenced,  he  wrote  two  letters,  one  as  from 
Anthony  Bacon  to  Essex,  the  other  from  Essex, 
in  answer,  both  to  be  shown  by  Bacon  to  the 
queen  ;  and  prepared  a  letter  to  be  sent  by  Es 
sex  directly  to  her  majesty,  the  scope  of  which 

what  the  earl  himself  would  have  written.  But  there  are 
two  others,  which  appear  to  have  come  from  his  lordship's 
own  hand,  and  have  not  yet  been  seen  in  print.  The  first  is 
in  these  terms  : 

"  Let  me  beg  leave,  most  dear  and  most  admired  sovereign, 
to  remember  the  story  of  your  own  gracious  goodness,  when 
I  was  even  at  the  mouth  of  the  grave.  No  worldly  means  had 
power  to  stay  me  in  this  world  but  the  comfort  which  I  re 
ceived  from  your  majesty.  When  I  was  weak  and  full  of 
infirmities,  the  increase  of  liberty  which  your  majesty  gave, 
and  the  gracious  message  which  your  majesty  sent  me,  made 
me  recover  in  a  few  weeks  that  strength,  which  my  physi 
cians  in  a  long  time  durst  not  hope  for.  And  now,  lastly, 
when  I  should  be  forever  disabled  for  your  majesty's  service, 
and  by  consequence  made  unwilling  to  live,  your  majesty  at 
my  humble  supplication  granted,  that  that  cup  should  pass 
from  me.  These  are  deeply  engraven  in  my  memory,  and 
they  shall  ever  be  acknowledged  by  my  tongue  and  pen 
But  yet  after  all  these,  without  one  farther  degree  of  your 
mercy  your  servant  perisheth.  Indi^natio  principis  inors  est. 
He  cannot  be  said  to  live,  that  feels  the  weight  of  it.  What 
then  can  your  majesty  think  of  his  state  that  hath  thus  long 
lived  under  it,  and  yet  sees  not  your  majesty  reach  out  your 
fair  hand  to  take  off  part  of  this  weight  7  If  your  majesty 
could  know  what  I  feel,  your  sweet  and  excellent  nature 
could  not  but  be  compassionate.  I  dare  not  lift  up  my  voice 
to  speak  ;  but  my  humble  (now  exiled,  though  once  too  hap 
py)  eyes  are  lifted  up,  and  speak  in  their  dumb  language, 
which  your  majesty  will  answer  your  own  chosen  time. 
Till  then  no  soul  is  so  afflicted  as  that  of 

Your  majesty's  humblest  vassal,  ESSEX. 

The  other  letter  was  written  on  the  17th  of  November,  the 
anniversary  of  her  accession  to  the  throne  : 

"Vouchsafe,  dread  sovereign,  to  know  there  lives  a  man, 
though  dead  to  the  world,  and  in  himself  exercised  with  con 
tinual  torments  of  body  and  mind,  that  doth  more  true  ho 
nour  to  your  thrice  blessed  day,  than  all  those  that  appear  in 
your  sight.  For  no  soul  had  ever  such  an  impression  of  your 
perfections,  no  alteration  showed  such  an  effect  of  your 
power,  nor  no  heart  ever  felt  such  a  joy  of  your  triumph. 
For  they  that  feel  the  comfortable  influence  of  your  majesty's 
favour,  or  stand  in  the  bright  beams  of  your  presence,  rejoice 
partly  for  your  majesty's,  but  chiefly  for  their  own  happiness. 
Only  miserable  Essex,  full  of  pain,  full  of  sickness,  full  of 
sorrow,  languishing  in  repentance  for  his  offences  past,  hate 
ful  to  himself,  that  he  is  yet  alive,  and  importunate  on  death, 
if  your  favour  be  irrevocable ;  he  joys  only  for  your  ma 
jesty's  great  happiness  and  happy  greatness  :  and  were  the 
rest  of  his  days  never  so  many,  and  sure  to  be  as  happy  as 
they  are  like  to  be  miserable,  he  would  lose  them  all  to  have 
this  happy  17th  day  many  and  many'  times  renewed  with 
glory  to  your  majesty,  and  comfort  of  all  your  faithful  sub- 

I  jects,  of  whom  none  is  accursed  but  your  majesty's  humbles*- 

i  vassal,  ESSEX, 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xli 


were,  says  Bacon,  "  but  to  represent  and  picture 
forth  unto  her  majesty  my  lord's  mind  to  be  such, 
as  I  knew  her  majesty  would  fainest  have  had 
it:  which  letters  whosoever  shall  see,  for  they 
cannot  now  be  retracted  or  altered,  being  by 
reason  of  my  brother's  or  his  lordship's  servants' 
delivery,  long  since  come  into  divers  hands,  let 
him  judge,  especially  if  he  knew  the  queen,  and 
do  remember  those  times,  whether  they  were  not 
the  labours  of  one  that  sought  to  bring  the  queen 
about  for  my  lord  of  Essex:  his  good/'1 

To  such  expedients  did  his  friendship  for  Essex 
induce  him  to  submit :  expedients,  which,  how 
ever  they  may  be  sanctioned  by  the  conduct  of 
courtiers,  stooping,  as  they  suppose,  to  occasions, 
not  to  persons,  but  ill  accord  with  the  admoni 
tion  of  Bacon's  philosophy,  that  "  the  honest  and 
just  bounds  of  observation  by  one  person  upon 
another,  extend  no  further  but  to  understand  him 
sufficiently,  whereby  not  to  give  him  offence; 
or  whereby  to  be  able  to  give  him  faithful  coun 
sel  ;  or  whereby  to  stand  upon  reasonable  guard 
and  caution  with  respect  to  a  man's  self:  but  to 
be  speculative  into  another  man,  to  the  end  to  know 
how  to  work  him,  or  wind  him,  or  govern  him, 
proceedeth  from  a  heart  that  is  double  and  cloven, 
and  not  entire  and  ingenuous."  Such  is  Bacon's 
doctrine,  but  having,  as  it  appears,  in  his  youth, 
taken  an  unfortunate  bias  from  the  censures  of 
Burleigli  and  Cecil,  and  from  the  frequent  asser 
tions  of  Elizabeth,  that  he  was  without  know 
ledge  of  affairs;  he  affected,  through  the  whole  of 
his  life,  an  overstrained  refinement  in  trifles,  and 
a  political  subtlety,  which  never  failed  to  awaken 
the  suspicions  of  his  enemies,  and  was  altogether 
unworthy  of  his  great  mind. 

From  these  various  efforts  Bacon  indulged  the 
most  flattering  hopes  of  the  restoration  of  his 
friend  to  the  queen's  favour,  in  which,  if  Essex 
had  acted  with  common  prudence,  he  would  have 
succeeded ;  though  the  queen  kept  alive  her  dis 
pleasure  by  many  passionate  expressions,  "that 
lie  had  long  tried  her  anger,  and  she  must  have 
further  proof  of  his  humility,  and  that  her  father 
would  not  have  endured  his  perverseness ;"  but 
Bacon,  who  knew  the  depths  and  soundings  of 
the  queen's  character,  was  not  dismayed  by 
these  ebullitions ;  he  saw,  under  the  agitated 
surface,  a  constant  under-current  of  kindness. 

Bacon's  account  is  as  follows :"  From  this 
time  forth,  during  the  whole  latter  end  of  that 
summer,  while  the  court  was  at  Nonsuch  and 
Oatlands,  I  made  it  my  task  and  scope  to  take 
and  give  occasions  for  my  lord's  redintegration  in 

1  Tn  ;t  nothcr  part  of  his  Apology  he  says  :  "  And  I  drew  for 
him,  by  hi.-;  appointment,  some  letters  to  her  majesty;  which 
though  I  knew  well  his  lordship's  gift  and  style  was  far  better 
thai)  mine  own,  yet,  because  he  required  it,  alleging,  that  by 
his  lonsr  restraint  he  was  grown  almost  a  stranger  to  the 
queen's  present  conceits,  I  was  ready  to  perform  it;  and 
pure  I  am,  that  for  the  space  of  six  weeks  or  two  months  it 
prospered  so  well,  as  I  expected  continually  his  restoring  to 
liis  attendance," 

VOL.  I.— (6) 


his  fortunes  :  which  my  intention,  1  did  also  sig 
nify  to  my  lord  as  soon  as  ever  he  was  at  his 
liberty,  whereby  I  might  without  peril  of  the 
queen's  indignation  write  to  him;  and,  having 
received  from  his  lordship  a  courteous  and  loving 
acceptation  of  my  good-will  and  endeavours,  I 
did  apply  it  in  all  my  accesses  to  the  queen, 
which  were  very  many  at  that  time ;  and  pur 
posely  sought  and  wrought  upon  other  variable 
pretences,  but  only  and  chiefly  for  that  purpose. 
And  on  the  other  side,  I  did  not  forbear  to  give 
my  lord  from  time  to  time  faithful  advertisement 
what  I  found,  and  what  I  wished.  And  I  drew 
for  him,  by  his  appointment,  some  letters  to  her 
majesty;  which,  though  I  knew  well  his  lord 
ship's  gift  and  style  was  better  than  mine  own, 
yet,  because  he  required  it,  alleging,  that  by  his 
long  restraint  he  was  grown  almost  a  stranger  to 
the  queen's  present  conceits,  I  was  ready  to  per 
form  it;  and  sure  1  am,  that  for  the  space  of  six 
wreeks  or  two  months,  it  prospered  so  well,  as  I 
expected  continually  his  restoring  to  his  attend 
ance.  And  I  was  never  better  welcome  to  the 
queen,  nor  more  made  of,  than  when  I  spake 
fullest  and  boldest  for  him  :  in  which  kind  the 
particulars  were  exceeding  many ;  whereof,  for  an 
example,  I  will  remember  to  your  lordship  one  or 
two.  As  at  one  time,  I  call  to  mind,  her  majesty 
was  speaking  of  a  fellow  that  undertook  to  cure, 
or  at  least  to  ease  my  brother  of  his  gout,  and 
asked  me  how  it  went  forward ;  and  I  told  her 
majesty,  that  at  the  first  he  received  good  by  it, 
but  after  in  the  course  of  his  cure  he  found  him 
self  at  a  stay,  or  rather  worse :  the  queen  said 
again  1 1  will  tell  you,  Bacon,  the  error  of  it :  the 
manner  of  these  physicians,  and  especially  these 
empirics,  is  to  continue  one  kind  of  medicine, 
which  at  the  first  is  proper,  being  to  draw  out  the 
ill  humour;  but  after,  they  have  not  the  dis 
cretion  to  change  the  medicine,  but  apply  still 
drawing  medicines,  when  they  should  rather  in 
tend  to  cure  and  corroborate  the  part.'  '  Good 
Lord  !  madam,'  said  I,  'how  wisely  and  aptly  can 
you  speak  and  discern  of  physic  ministered  to 
the  body,  and  consider  not  that  there  is  the  like 
occasion  of  physic  ministered  to  the  mind  :  as 
now  in  the  case  of  my  lord  of  Essex,  your 
princely  word  ever  was,  that  you  intended  ever  to 
reform  his  mind,  and  not  ruin  his  fortune :  I  know 
well  you  cannot  but  think  that  you  have  drawn 
the  humour  sufficiently;  and  therefore  it  were 
more  than  time,  and  it  were  but  for  doubt  of  mor 
tifying  or  exulcerating,  that  you  did  apply  and 
minister  strength  and  comfort  unto  him :  for 
these  same  gradations  of  yours  are  fitter  to 
corrupt  than  correct  any  mind  of  greatness.'  " 

In  the  latter  end  of  August,  1600,  Essex  was 
summoned  to  attend  at  York  House,  where  the 
lord  keeper,  the  lord  treasurer,  and  secretary 
signified  the  queen's  pleasure  that  he  should  be 
restored  to  liberty.  He  answered  that  his  reso1^ 
(D3) 


xlii 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


lion  was  to  lead  a  retired  life  in  the  country,  but 
solicited  them  to  intercede  with  her  majesty  that, 
before  his  departure,  he  might  once  come  into  the 
presence  of  the  queen,  and  kiss  her  hand,  that 
with  some  contentment,  he  might  betake  himself 
to  his  solitary  life  :  hopes  which,  however,  seemed 
not  likely  to  be  realized,  as  the  queen's  permis 
sion  for  him  to  retire  into  the  country  was  accom 
panied  with  the  declaration,  that,  although  her 
majesty  was  contented  that  he  should  be  under 
no  guard  but  of  duty  and  discretion,  yet  he  must 
in  no  sort  suppose  that  he  was  freed  of  her  indig 
nation,  or  presume  to  approach  the  court,  or  her 
person. 

Thus  liberated,  but  not  restored  to  the  queen's 
favour,  he  walked  forth  alone,  without  any  greet 
ings  from  his  '  summer  friends.' 

In  the  beginning  of  September,  1600,  Essex 
retired  to  the  country,  with  the  pleasing  hope  that 
the  queen's  affection  was  returning,  and  that  he 
would  not  only  be  received  into  favour,  and  re 
stored  to  power,  but  that  by  the  influence  of  this 
affection  he  might  secure  an  object  of  the  greatest 
importance,  a  renewal  of  his  valuable  patent  for 
the  monopoly  of  sweet  wines,  which,  after  having 
enriched  him  for  years,  was  now  expiring. 

Essex  considered  this  renewal  as  one  of  the 
most  critical  events  of  his  life,  an  event  that 
would  determine  whether  he  might  hope  ever  to 
be  reinstated  in  his  former  credit  and  authority  ; 
but  Elizabeth,  though  capable  of  strong  attach 
ments,  inherited  the  haughty  and  severe  temper 
of  her  father ;  and,  being  continually  surrounded  by 
the  enemies  of  Essex,  was  persuaded  that  his  lofty 
spirit  was  not  sufficiently  subdued ;  and  when, 
at  length,  she  was  more  favourably  disposed  to 
wards  him,  he  destroyed  all  that  her  own  lurking 
partiality  and  the  kindness  of  his  friends  had  pre 
pared  for  hun  by  a  letter,  which,  professing  affec 
tion  and  seeking  profit,  was  so  deficient  in  good 
taste  and  in  knowledge  of  the  queen's  temper, 
that  she  saw  through  all  the  expressions  of  his 
devotion  and  humility,  a  view  only  to  his  own 
interest.  The  queen  told  me,  says  Bacon,  "  that 
my  lord  had  written  her  some  very  dutiful  letters, 
and  that  she  had  been  moved  by  them,  but  when  she 
took  it  to  be  the  abundance  of  his  heart,  she  found 
it  to  be  but  a  preparative  to  a  suit  for  the  renew 
ing  of  his  farm  of  sweet  wines."  To  this  com 
plaint  Bacon  made  the  following  characteristic 
and  ingenious  reply  :  "  O  madam,  how  doth  your 
majesty  construe  these  things,  as  if  these  two 
could  not  stand  well  together,  which  indeed  na 
ture  hath  planted  in  all  creatures.  For  there  are 
but  two  sympathies,  the  one  towards  perfection, 
the  other  towards  preservation  :  that  to  perfection, 
as  the  iron  tendeth  to  the  loadstone  ;  that  to  pre 
servation,  as  the  vine  will  creep  towards  a  stake 
or  prop  that  stands  by  it,  not  for  any  love  to  the 
stake,  but  to  uphold  itself.  And  therefore,  ma 
dam,  you  must  distinguish  my  lord's  desire  to  do 


you  service,  is  as  to  his  perfection,  that  which  he 
thinks  himself  to  be  born  for  ;  whereas  his  desire 
to  obtain  this  thing  of  you  is  but  for  a  sustenta- 
tion." 

The  result,  however,  was,  that  hurt  by  this 
letter,  she  indignantly  and  somewhat  coarsely 
refused  his  suit,  saying,  "  that  an  unruly  beast 
ought  to  be  stinted  of  his  provender."  After  a 
month's  suspense,  it  was  notified  to  him  that  the 
patent  was  confided  to  trustees  for  the  queen's 
use. 

In  the  storm  that  now  (October,  1600)  gathered 
round  Essex,  the  real  state  of  his  mind  revealed 
itself.  "  When  I  expected,"  he  said,  "  a  harvest, 
a  tempest  has  arisen  to  me ;  if  I  be  wanting  to 
myself,  my  friends,  and  my  country,  it  is  long  of 
others,  not  of  myself;  let  my  adversaries  tri 
umph,  I  will  not  follow  the  triumphal  chariot."  He 
who  had  declared  his  willingness  "  to  wander  and 
eat  grass  with  the  beasts  of  the  field,  like  Nebu 
chadnezzar,  until  the  queen  should  restore  his 
senses,"  now,  that  this  abject  prostration  proved 
fruitless,  loudly  proclaimed  that  "he  could  not 
serve  with  base  obsequiousness ;  that  he  was 
thrust  down  into  private  life,  and  wrongfully  com 
mitted  to  custody,  and  this  by  an  old  woman  no  less 
crooked  in  mind  than  in  body."  These  ebullitions 
of  peevish  anger  were  duly  repeated  to  the  queen 
by  those  who  hoped  for  his  utter  ruin.  Elizabeth, 
shocked  at  the  ingratitude  of  a  man  upon  whom  she 
had  lavished  so  many  favours ;  whose  repeat°d 
faults  she  had  forgiven  till  forgiveness  became  a 
folly,  now  turned  away  with  extreme  indignation 
from  all  whom  she  suspected  of  urging  one  word 
in  his  favour  ;  and,  remembering  the  constant  exer 
tions  which  had  ever  been  made  by  Bacon  on  his 
behalf,  began  to  think  of  him  with  distrust  and 
jealousy.  She  would  not  so  much  as  look  at  him  ; 
and  whenever  he  desired  to  speak  with  her  about 
law  business,  sent  him  out  slighting  refusals. 

Bacon,  acting  in  obedience  to  his  own  doctrine, 
"  that  the  best  mean  to  clear  the  way  in  the  wood 
of  suspicion  is  frankly  to  communicate  with  the 
party  who  is  suspect,  if  he  is  of  a  noble  nature," 
demanded  the  cause  of  this  alienation,  in  an  inter 
view  with  the  queen,  which  he  has  thus  related  : 
(January,  1601,  Mi.  41  :) — "Then,  she  remem 
bering,  belike,  the  continual,  and  incessant,  and 
confident  speeches  and  courses  that  I  had  held  on 
my  lord's  side,  became  utterly  alienated  from  me; 
and  for  the  space  of  at  least  three  months,  which 
was  between  Michaelmas  and  New-year's-tide 
following,  would  not  so  much  as  look  on  me,  but 
turned  away  from  me  with  express  and  purpose- 
like  discountenance  wheresoever  she  saw  me  ;  and 
at  such  time  as  I  desired  to  speak  with  her  about 
law  business,  ever  sent  me  forth  very  slight  refu 
sals,  insomuch  as  it  is  most  true,  that  immediate 
ly  after  New  year's-tide  I  desired  to  speak  with 
her ;  and  being  admitted  to  her,  I  dealt  with  her 
plainly,  and  said,  'Madam,  I  see  you  withdraw 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xliii 


your  favour  from  me,  and  now  I  have  lost  many 
friends  for  your  sake,  I  shall  lose  you  too  :  you 
have  put  me  like  one  of  those  that  the  Frenchmen 
call  enfans  perdus,tha.t  serve  on  foot  before  horse 
men,  so  have  you  put  me  into  matters  of  envy 
without  place,  or  without  strength ;  and  I  know  at 
chess  a  pawn  before  the  king  is  ever  much  played 
upon :  a  great  many  love  me  not,  because  they 
think  I  have  been  against  my  lord  of  Essex  ;  and 
you  love  me  not,  because  you  know  I  have  been 
for  him  :  yet  will  I  never  repent  me  that  I  have 
dealt  in  simplicity  of  heart  towards  you  both, 
without  respect  of  cautions  to  myself,  and  therefore 
vivus  vidensque  pereo.  If  I  do  break  my  neck,  I 
shall  do  it  in  a  manner  as  Master  Dorrington  did 
it,  which  walked  on  the  battlements  of  the  church 
many  days,  and  took  a  view  and  survey  where  he 
should  fall :  and  so,  madam,'  said  I,  'I  am  not  so 
simple,  but  that  I  take  a  prospect  of  mine  over 
throw,  only  I  thought  I  would  tell  you  so  much, 
that  you  may  know  that  it  was  faith,  and  not  folly 
that  brought  me  into  it,  and  so  I  will  pray  for  you.' 
Upon  which  speeches  of  mine,  uttered  with  some 
passion,  it  is  true  her  majesty  was  exceedingly 
moved ;  and  accumulated  a  number  of  kind  and 
gracious  words  upon  me,  and  willed  me  to  rest 
upon  this,  Gratia  mea  sufficit,  and  a  number  of 
other  sensible  and  tender  words  and  demonstra 
tions,  such  as  more  could  not  be ;  but  as  touching 
my  lord  of  Essex,  ne  verbum  quidem.  Where 
upon  I  departed,  resting  then  determined  to 
meddle  no  more  in  the  matter,  as  I  saw,  that  it 
would  overthrow  me,  and  not  be  able  to  do'him  any 
good." 

Bacon's  anguish,  when  he  felt  that  the  queen's 
displeasure  was  gradually  taking  the  form  most 
to  be  dreaded,  the  cold  and  severe  aspect  of  of 
fended  justice,  can  be  conceived  only  by  those 
who  had  seen  his  patient  watchfulness  over  his 
wayward  friend.  Through  the  whole  of  his  ca 
reer,  Bacon  had  anxiously  pursued  him,  warning 
him,  when  it  was  possible,  to  prevent  the  com 
mission  of  error ;  excusing  him  to  his  royal  mis 
tress  when  the  warning  had  proved  fruitless; 
hoping  all  things,  enduring  all  things ;  but  the 
time  seemed  fast  approaching,  when,  urged  by 
his  own  wild  passions,  and  the  ruffian  crew  that 
beset  him,  he  would  commit  some  act  which 
would  place  him  out  of  the  pale  of  the  queen's 
mercy. 

Irritated  by  the  refusal  of  his  patent,  he  readily 
listened  to  the  pernicious  counsels  of  a  few 
needy  and  interested  followers.  Essex  House 
had  long  been  the  resort  of  the  factious  and  dis 
contented  ;  secretly  courting  the  Catholics,  and 
openly  encouraging  the  Puritans,  Essex  wel 
comed  all  who  were  obnoxious  to  the  court.  He 
applied  to  the  King  of  Scotland  for  assistance, 
opened  a  secret  correspondence  with  Ireland,  and, 
calculating  upon  the  support  of  a  large  body  of 
.he  nobility,  conspired  to  seize  the  Tower  of 


London  and  the  queen  herself,  and  marshalled 
his  banditti  to  effect  his  purposes. 

The  queen,  who  had  been  apprized  of  the  un 
usual  concourse  of  persons  to  Essex  House,  was 
now  fully  acquainted  with  the  extent  of  his  trea 
sons.  In  this  emergency  she  acted  with  a  firm 
ness  worthy  of  herself.  She  directed  the  Lord 
Mayor  of  London  to  take  care  that  the  citizens 
were  ready,  every  man  in  his  own  house,  to  exe 
cute  such  commands  as  should  be  enjoined  them. 
To  Essex  she  sent  the  lord  keeper,  the  lord 
chief  justice,  and  the  Earl  of  Worcester,  to  learn 
the  cause  of  this  treasonable  assembly.  He  said 
"  that  there  was  a  plot  against  his  life ;  that  some 
were  suborned  to  stab  him  in  his  bed ;  that  lie 
and  his  friends  were  treacherously  dealt  with,  and 
that  they  were  determined  on  resistance."  Deaf 
to  all  remonstrances,  and  urged  by  his  faction,  he 
seized  and  confined  the  officers  of  state,  and, 
without  plan,  without  arms,  and  with  a  small 
body  of  conspirators,  he  proceeded  into  the  city, 
calling  upon  the  citizens  to  join  him,  but  calling 
in  vain.  Disappointed  in  his  hopes,  and  pro 
claimed  a  traitor,  after  a  fruitless  attempt  to  de 
fend  himself,  he  was  seized,  and  committed  to  the 
Tower. 

No  man  knew  better,  or  felt  more  deeply  the 
duties  of  friendship,  than  Bacon :  he  did  not 
think  friendships  mere  abstractions,  metaphysical 
nothings,  created  for  contemplation  only ;  he  felt, 
as  he  has  taught,  that  friendship  is  the  allay  of 
our  sorrows,  the  ease  of  our  passions,  the  sanc 
tuary  of  our  calamities ;  that  its  fruits  are  peace 
in  the  affections,  counsel  in  judgment,  and  active 
kindness;  the  heart,  the  head,  and  the  hand. 
His  friendship,  therefore,  both  in  words  and  acts, 
Essex  constantly  experienced.  In  the  wildest 
storm  of  his  passions,  while  others  suffered  him 
to  drive  onward,  the  voice  of  the  pilot  might  be 
heard,  pointing  out  the  sunken  rocks  which  he 
feared  would  wreck  him ;  and  when,  at  last, 
bound  hand  and  foot,  he  was  cast  at  the  feet  of 
the  queen,  to  undergo  her  utmost  indignation, 
he  still  walked  with  him  in  the  midst  of  the  fire, 
and  would  have  borne  him  off  unhurt,  but  for  the 
evil  spirits  which  beset  him. 

It  is  impossible  to  form  a  correct  judgment  of 
the  conduct  of  Bacon  at  this  unfortunate  junc 
ture,  without  considering  the  difficulties  of  his  si 
tuation,  and  his  conflicting  duties.  Men  of  the 
highest  blood  and  of  the  fairest  character  were 
implicated  in  the  treasons  of  Essex :  men  who 
were,  like  himself,  highly  favoured  by  the  queen, 
and  in  offices  of  great  trust  and  importance. 
Bacon's  obligations  to  Essex,  and  his  constant 
efforts  to  serve  him  were  well  known ;  and  the 
queen  had  of  late  looked  coldly  upon  him,  and 
might  herself  suspect  his  fidelity;  for  sad  ex 
perience  had  proved  to  her  that  a  monarch  has  no 
true  friend.  In  the  interval  between  the  com 
mitment  of  Essex  to  the  Tower,  and  his  arraign- 


xliv 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


merit,  Bacon  must  have  become  fully  aware  of 
th  >  facts  which  would  condemn  Essex  in  the  eyes 
of  all  good  men,  and  render  him  amenable  to 
the  heaviest  penalty  of  the  law.  Awakened, 
as  from  a  dream,  with  the  startling  truth  that 
Essex  was  guilty  as  well  as  imprudent,  he  saw 
that  all  which  he  and  others  had  deemed  rashness 
was  the  result  of  a  long  concocted  treason.  In 
whatever  light  it  could  be  viewed,  the  course 
which  Essex  had  pursued  was  ruinous  to  Bacon. 
He  had  been  bondsman  again  and  again  to  the 
queen  for  the  love  and  duty  of  Essex;  and  now 
he  had  the  mortification  of  discovering  that,  in 
stead  of  being  open  and  entire  with  him,  Essex 
had  abused  his  friendship,  and  had  assumed  the 
dissembling  attitude  of  humility  and  penitence, 
that  he  might  more  securely  aim  a  blow  at  the 
very  life  of  his  royal  benefactress.  This  dou 
ble  treachery  entirely  alienated  the  affections  of 
Bacon.  He  saw  no  longer  the  high-souled,  chi- 
valric  Essex,  open  as  the  day,  lucid  as  truth, 
giving  both  faults  and  virtues  to  the  light,  re 
deeming  in  the  eyes  of  all  men  the  bounty  of 
the  crown ;  he  saw  only  an  ungrateful  man, 
whom  the  fiend  ambition  had  possessed,  and 
knew  that  the  name  of  that  fiend  was  "  Legion." 

On  the  19th  of  February,  1601,  Essex  and  South 
ampton  were  arraigned,  and,  upon  the  trial,  one 
of  the  conspirators,  allured  by  the  hope  of  life, 
made  a  full  disclosure  of  all  their  treasons. 

Unable  to  deny  facts  clearly  proved  against 
him,  Essex  could  insist  only  upon  his  motives, 
which  he  urged  with  the  utmost  confidence,  He 
repeated  his  former  assertion,  that  there  was  a 
plot  against  his  life,  and  that  Cecil,  Cobham,  and 
Raleigh  had  driven  him  to  desperate  measures. 
Bacon,  who  appeared  as  one  of  the  counsel  for 
the  crown,  resisted  these  imputations,  and  said, 
"  It  is  evident,  my  lord  of  Essex,  that  you  had 
planted  in  your  heart  a  pretence  against  the  go 
vernment  of  your  country;  and,  as  Pisistratus, 
calculating  upon  the  affections  of  the  people, 
showed  himself  wounded  in  the  streets  of  Athens, 
so  you  entered  the  city  with  the  vain  hope  that 
the  citizens  would  join  in  your  rebellion.  Indeed, 
my  lord,  all  that  you  have  said,  or  can  say  in  these 
matters  are  but  shadows,  and  therefore  methinks 
it  were  your  best  course  to  confess,  and  not  to 
justify." 

Essex  here  interrupted  him,  and  said,  "The 
speech  of  Mr.  Bacon  calls  upon  me  to  defend 
myself;  and  be  it  known,  my  lords,  I  call  upon 
him  to  be  a  witness  for  me,  for  he  being  a  daily 
courtier,  and  having  free  access  to  her  majesty, 
undertook  to  go  to  the  queen  in  my  behalf,  and 
aid  write  a  letter  most  artificially,  which  was  sub 
scribed  with  rny  name,  also  another  letter  was 
drawn  by  him  to  occasion  that  letter,  with  others 
that  should  come  from  his  brother,  Mr.  Anthony 
Bacon,  both  which  he  showed  the  queen,  and  in 
my  letter  he  did  plead  for  me  feelingly  against 


those  enemies,  and  pointed  them  out  as  particu 
larly  as  was  possible ;  which  letters  I  know 
Mr.  Secretary  Cecil  hath  seen,  and  by  them  it 
will  appear  what  conceit  Mr.  Bacon  held  of  me, 
so  different  from  what  he  here  coloureth  and 
pleadeth  against  me." 

To  this  charge,  urged  in  violation  of  the  most 
sacred  confidence,  which  Essex  well  knew  would 
render  Bacon  obnoxious  to  the  queen,  and  sus 
pected  by  all  parties,  he  instantly  and  indignantly 
replied,  "  My  lord,  I  spent  more  hours  to  make 
you  a  good  subject,  than  upon  any  man  in  the 
world  besides;  but  since  you  have  stirred  up  this 
point,  I  dare  warrant  you  this  letter  will  not  blush 
to  see  the  light,  for  I  did  but  perform  the  part  of 
an  honest  man,  and  ever  laboured  to  have  done 
you  good  if  it  might  have  been,  and  to  no  other 
end ;  for  what  I  intended  for  your  good  was 
wished  from  the  heart,  without  touch  of  any 
man's  honour."  After  this  unjustifiable  disclo 
sure,  which  severed  the  last  link  between  them, 
Bacon  only  spoke  once,  and  with  a  bitterness 
that  showed  how  deeply  he  was  wounded. 

Through  the  whole  trial  Essex  conducted  him 
self  with  courage  and  firmness  worthy  of  a  better 
cause.  Though  assailed  by  the  lawyers  with 
much  rancour,  and  harassed  by  the  deepest  search 
into  his  offences ;  though  harshly  questioned  by 
his  adversaries,  and  betrayed  by  his  confederates, 
he  stood  at  bay,  like  some  noble  animal,  who 
fears  not  his  pursuers,  nor  the  death  that  awaits 
him  ;  and  when,  at  last,  the  deliberate  voices  of 
his  fellows  peers  proclaimed  him  guilty,  he  heard 
the  sentence  with  manly  composure,  and,  without 
one  thought  of  himself,  sought  only  to  save  the 
life  of  his  friend. 

Bacon  having  obtained  a  remission  of  the  sen 
tence  in  favour  of  six  persons  who  were  impli 
cated,  made  one  more  effort  to  serve  this  unhappy 
nobleman.  He  says,  "Fov  the  time  which  passed, 
I  mean  between  the  arraignment  and  my  lord's 
suffering,  I  was  but  once  with  the  queen,  at  what 
time  though  I  durst  not  deal  directly  for  my  lord 
as  things  then  stood :  yet  generally  I  did  both 
commend  her  majesty's  mercy,  terming  it  to  her 
as  an  excellent  balm  that  did  continually  distil 
from  her  sovereign  hands,  and  made  an  excellent 
odour  in  the  senses  of  her  people  :  and  not  only 
so,  but  I  took  hardness  to  extenuate,  not  the  fact, 
for  that  I  durst  not,  but  the  danger,  telling  her 
that  if  some  base  or  cruel-minded  person  had  en 
tered  into  such  an  action,  it  might  have  caused 
much  blood  and  combustion;  but  it  appeared  well 
they  were  such  as  knew  not  how  to  play  the 
malefactors,  and  some  other  words  which  I  now 
omit." 

All  exertions,  however,  proved  fruitless;  for, 
after  much  fluctuation  on  the  queen's  part,  arising 
from  causes  variously  stated  by  historians,  Essex, 
on  the  25th  of  February,  1601,  was  executed  in 
the  Tower. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xlr 


The  queen  having  been  coldly  received  by  the 
citizens,  after  the  death  of  Essex,  or  moved  by 
some  other  cause,  was  desirous  that  a  full  state 
ment  should  be  made  of  the  whole  course  of  his 
treasons,  and  commanded  Bacon  to  prepare  it. 
He  says,  "  Her  majesty  taking  a  liking  of  my  pen, 
upon  that  which  I  had  done  before,  concerning  the 
proceeding  at  York  House,  and  likewise  upon 
some  other  declarations,  which  in  former  times 
by  her  appointment  I  put  in  writing,  commanded 
me  to  pen  that  book,  which  was  published  for  the 
better  satisfaction  of  the  world  :  which  I  did  but  so 
as  never  secretary  had  more  particular  and  ex 
press  directions  and  instructions  in  every  point, 
how  to  guide  my  hand  in  it :  and  not  only  so,  but 
after  that  I  had  made  a  first  draught  thereof,  and 
propounded  it  to  certain  principal  councillors,  by 
her  majesty's  appointment,  it  was  perused,  weigh 
ed,  censured,  altered,  and  made  almost  a  new 
writing,  according  to  their  lordships'  better  con 
sideration  :  wherein  their  lordships  and  myself 
both  were  as  religious  and  curious  of  truth,  as 
desirous  of  satisfaction  :  and  myself  indeed  gave 
only  words  and  form  of  style  in  pursuing 
their  direction.  And  after  it  had  passed  their  al 
lowance,  it  was  again  exactly  perused  by  the 
queen  herself,  and  some  alterations  made  again 
by  her  appointment ;  after  it  was  set  to  print,  the 
queen,  who,  as  she  was  excellent  in  great  matters, 
so  she  was  exquisite  in  small,  noted  that  I  could 
not  forget  my  ancient  respect  to  my  Lord  of 
Essex,  in  terming  him  ever  my  Lord  of  Essex, 
my  Lord  of  Essex  almost  in  every  page  of  the 
book,  which  she  thought  not  fit,  but  would  have 
it  made,  Essex,  or  the  ^te  Earl  of  Essex  :  where 
upon  of  force  it  was  printed  de.  novo,  and  the  first 
copies  suppressed  by  her  peremptory  command 
ment."  He  concludes  the  whole  with  these 
words  ;  "  Had  I  been  as  well  believed  either  by  the 
queen  or  by  my  lord,  as  I  was  well  heard  by  them 
both,  both  my  lord  had  been  fortunate,  and  so 
had  myself  in  his  fortune." 

Happier  would  it  have  been  for  the  queen,  and 
her  ill-fated  favourite,  had  they  listened  to  his 
warning  voice.  Essex  paid  the  forfeiture  of  his 
unrestrained  passions  by  the  stroke  of  the  axe, 
but  Elizabeth  suffered  the  lingering  torture  of  a 
broken  heart ;  the  offended  majesty  of  England 
triumphed,  she  "  queened  it  nobly,"  but  the  en 
venomed  asp  was  in  her  bosom  ;  she  sunk  under 
the  consciousness  of  abused  confidence,  of  ill-be 
stowed  favours,  of  unrequited  affection  :  the  very 
springs  of  kindness  were  poisoned  :  suspicious 
of  all  around  her,  and  openly  deserted  by  those 
who  hastened  to  pay  court  to  her  successor,  her 


health  visibly  declined,  and  the  last  blow  was 
given  to  her  by  some  disclosure  made  on  the 
death-bed  of  the  Countess  of  Nottingham.  Va 
rious  rumours  have  arisen  regarding  this  inter 
view,  and  the  cause  of  the  queen's  grief;  but  the 
fatal  result  has  never  been  doubted.  From  that 
day,  refusing  the  aid  of  medicine,  or  food,  or  rest, 
she  sat  upon  the  floor  of  her  darkened  chamber, 
and  gave  herself  up  to  the  most  unrestrained  sor 
row.  The  spirit  that  had  kept  a  world  in  awe  was 
utterly  prostrate  ;  and,  after  a  splendid  and  pros 
perous  reign  of  forty-five  years,  desolate,  afflict 
ed,  and  weary  of  existence,  she  lingered  till  the 
24th  of  March,  1G03,  on  which  day  she  died. 

Bacon's  respect  for  the  queen  was  more  mani 
fested  after  her  death,  and  even  after  his  own 
death,  than  during  her  life. 

In  one  of  his  wills  he  desires,  that,  whatever 
part  of  his  manuscripts  may  be  destroyed,  his  eu 
logy  "In  feliciem  memoriam  Elizabeths;"  may 
be  preserved  and  published  :  and,  soon  after  the 
accession  of  James  to  the  throne,  he  thus  speaks 
of  the  queen. 

"  She  was  a  princess  that,  if  Plutarch  were  now 
alive  to  write  lives  by  parallels,  would  trouble 
him,  I  think,  to  find  for  her  a  parallel  amongst 
women.  This  lady  was  endued  with  learning  in 
her  sex  singular  and  rare,  even  amongst  mascu 
line  princes  ;  whether  we  speak  of  learning,  lan 
guage,  or  of  science,  modern  or  ancient,  divinity 
or  humanity  :  and,  unto  the  very  last  year  of  her 
life,  she  was  accustomed  to  appoint  set  hours  for 
reading,  scarcely  any  young  student  in  an  univer 
sity  more  daily  or  more  duly.  As  for  her  govern 
ment,  I  assure  myself,  I  shall  not  exceed,  if  I 
do  affirm  that  this  part  of  the  island  never  had 
forty-five  years  of  better  times,  and  yet  not  throtfgh. 
the  calmness  of  the  season,  but  through  the  wis 
dom  of  her  regimen.  For  if  there  be  considered 
of  the  one  side,  the  truth  of  religion  established; 
the  constant  peace  and  security  ;  the  good  admi 
nistration  of  justice;  the  temperate  use  of  the  pre 
rogative,  not  slackened,  nor  much  strained ;  the 
flourishing  state  of  learning,  suitable  to  so  excel 
lent  a  patroness  ;  the  convenient  estate  of  wealth 
and  means,  both  of  crown  and  subject;  the  habit 
of  obedience,  and  the  moderation  of  discontents  ; 
and  there  be  considered,  on  the  other  side,  the 
differences  of  religion,  the  troubles  of  neighbour 
countries,  the  ambition  of  Spain  and  opposition  of 
Rome;  and  then  that  she  was  solitary  and  of  her 
self;  these  things,  I  say,  considered,  I  could  not 
have  chosen  a  more  remarkable  instance  of  the 
conjunction  of  learning  in  the  prince,  with  felicity 
in  the  people." 


xlvi 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


PART    II. 


FROM  THE  DEATH  OF  ELIZABETH  TO  THE  DEATH  OF  BACON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

FROM    THE    ACCESSION   OF    JAMES     TILL     THE    PUB 
LICATION   OF    THE    WISDOM    OF    THE    ANCIENTS. 
1603  to  1610. 

UPON  the  doath  of  the  queen,  Bacon  had  every 
thing  to  expect  from  the  disposition  of  her  suc 
cessor,  who  was  a  lover  of  letters,  was  desirous 
to  be  considered  the  patron  of  learning  and  learn 
ed  men,  was  well  acquainted  with  the  attainments 
of  Bacon,  and  his  reputation  both  at  home  and 
abroad,  and  was  greatly  prepossessed  in  his  fa 
vour  by  his  brother  Anthony,  who  was  much  es 
teemed  by  the  king. 

But  neither  the  consciousness  of  his  own  pow 
ers  or  of  the  king's  discernment  rendered  Bacon 
inert  or  passive.  He  used  all  his  influence,  both 
in  England  and  in  Scotland,  to  insure  the  protec 
tion  of  James.  He  wrote  to  the  Earl  of  North 
umberland,  and  to  Lord  Southampton,  who  was 
imprisoned  and  tried  with  Essex,  using  these  re 
markable  words,  "  I  may  safely  be  that  to  you 
now,  which  I  was  truly  before." 

Upon  the  approach  of  the  king  he  addressed 
his  majesty  in  a  letter  written  in  the  style  of  the 
times  :  and  he  submitted  to  the  Earl  of  Northum 
berland,  for  the  king's  consideration,  a  proclama 
tion,  recommending  "the  union  of  England  and 
Scotland  ;  attention  to  the  sufferings  of  unhappy 
Ireland  ;  freedom  of  trade  and  the  suppression  of 
bribery  and  corruption;  with  the  assurance,  that 
every  place  and  service  that  was  fit  for  the  honour 
or  good  of  the  commonwealth  should  be  filled,  and 
no  man's  virtue  left  idle,  unemployed,  or  unre 
warded,  and  every  good  ordinance  and  constitu 
tion,  for  the  amendment  of  the  estate  and  times, 
be  revived  and  put  in  execution." 

Soon  after  the  arrival  of  James,  which  was  on 
the  7th  of  May,  Bacon  having  had  an  audience, 
and  a  promise  of  private  access,  thus  describes 
the  king  to  the  Earl  of  Northumberland  :  "  Your 
lordship  shall  find  a  prince  the  farthest  from  vain 
glory  that  may  be,  and  rather  like  a  prince  of  the 
ancient  form  than  of  the  latter  time.  His  speech 
is  swift  and  cursory,  and  in  the  full  dialect  of  his 
country  ;  in  speech  of  business,  short;  in  speech 
of  discourse,  large.  He  affecteth  popularity  by 
gracing  such  as  he  hath  heard  to  be  popular,  and 
not  by  any  fashions  of  his  own.  He  is  thought 
somewhat  general  in  his  favours  ;  and  his  virtue 
of  access  is  rather,  because  he  is  much  abroad  and 
in  press,  than  that  he  giveth  easy  audience.  He 
hasteneth  to  a  mixture  of  both  kingdoms  and  oc 
casions,  faster  perhaps  than  policy  will  well  bear. 
I  told  your  lordship  once  before,  that  methought 


his  majesty  rather  asked  counsel  of  the  time  past, 
than  of  the  time  to  come;  but  it  is  yet  early  to 
ground  any  settled  opinion." 

The  title  of  knighthood  had  hitherto  been  con 
sidered  an  especial  mark  of  royal  favour;  but  the 
king,  who  perceived  that  the  English  gentry  were 
willing  to  barter  their  gold  for  an  empty  honour, 
was  no  less  ready  to  barter  his  honours  for  their 
gold.  A  general  summons  was,  therefore,  issued 
for  all  persons  possessing  £4.0  a  year  in  land  either 
to  accept  this  title,  or  to  compound  with  the  kind's 
commissioners ;  and  on  the  23d,  the  day  of  his 
coronation,  not  less  than  three  hundred  gentlemen 
received  the  honour  of  knighthood,  amongst  whom 
was  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  who  thought  that  the  title 
might  gratify  the  daughter  of  Alderman  Barnham, 
whom  he  soon  after  married. 

In  the  opening  of  the  year  1604,  (./Et.  44,)  it 
was  publicly  announced  that  a  parliament  would 
be  assembled  early  in  the  spring;  and  never 
could  any  parliament  meet  for  the  consideration 
of  more  eventful  questions  than  at  that  moment 
agitated  the  public  mind.  It  did  not  require  Bacon's 
sagacity  to  perceive  this,  or,  looking  forward,  to 
foresee  the  approaching  storm.  Revolutions  are 
siidden  to  the  unthinking  only.  Political  dis 
turbances  happen  not  without  their  warning  har 
bingers.  Murmurs,  not  loud  but  portentous,  ever 
precede  these  convulsions  o;  ,iiC  moral  world : 
murmurs  which  were  heard  by  Bacon  not  the  less 
audibly  from  the  apparent  tranquillity  with  which 
James  ascended  the  throne.  "  Tempests  of 
state,"  he  says,  "are  commonly  greatest  when 
things  grow  to  equality;  as  natural  tempests  are 
greatest  about  the  equinox  :  and  as  there  are  cer 
tain  hollow  blasts  of  wind  and  secret  swellings 
of  seas  before  a  tempest,  so  are  there  in  states  : 

— Tile  etiam  ca-cos  instare  tumultus 
Sa?pe  nionet,  fraudesque  et  operta  tuniescere  bella." 

These  secret  swellings  and  hollow  blasts,  which 
arise  from  the  conflicts  between  power,  tenacious 
in  retaining  its  authority,  and  knowledge,  advanc 
ing  to  resist  it,  are  materials  certain  to  explode,  un 
less  judiciously  dispersed.  Of  this  Bacon  con 
stantly  warned  the  community,  by  recommending 
the  admission  of  gradual  reform.  "  In  your  inno 
vations,"  he  said,  "follow  the  example  of  time, 
which  innovateth  greatly,  but  quietly."  The  ad 
vances  of  nature  are  all  gradual;  scarce  discernible 
in  their  motions,  but  only  visible  in  their  issue.  The 
grass  grows  and  the  shadow  moves  upon  the  dial 
unperceived,  until  we  reflect  upon  their  progress. 
These  admonitions  have  always  been  disregard 
ed  or  resisted  by  governments,  and.  wanting  this 
safety-valve,  states  have  been  periodically  exposed 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xlvii 


to  convulsion.  In  England  this  appeared  at  Run- 
nymede  in  the  reign  of  John,  and  in  the  subver 
sion  of  the  pope's  authority  in  the  reign  of  Henry 
the  Eighth. 

When  the  spirit  of  reform  has  once  been  raised, 
its  progress  is  not  easily  stayed.  Through  the 
ruins  of  Catholic  superstition  various  defects  were 
discovered  in  other  parts  of  the  fabric :  and  the 
people,  having  been  spirit-broken  during  the  reign 
of  Henry,  and  lulled  during  the  reign  of  Eliza 
beth,  reform  now  burst  with  accumulated  impe 
tuosity.  So  true  is  the  doctrine  of  Bacon,  that, 
"  when  any  of  the  four  pillars  of  government  are 
mainly  shaken,  or  weakened,  which  are  religion, 
justice,  counsel,  and  treasure,  men  had  need  to 
pray  for  fair  weather." 

The  state  of  Bacon's  mind  at  this  period  may 
be  easily  conceived.  The  love  of  order  and  the  love 
of  improvement,  apparently  not  really  opposed 
to  each  other,  were  his  ruling  passions :  and  his 
mode  of  improvement  was  the  same  in  all  science, 
natural  or  human,  by  experiment,  and  only  by 
experiment ;  by  proceeding  with  the  greatest  cau 
tion,  and  by  remembering  that,  after  the  most 
careful  research,  we  may  be  in  the  greatest  error : 
"  for  who  will  take  upon  him,  when  the  particulars 
which  a  man  knows,  and  which  he  hath  mentioned, 
appear  only  on  one  side,  there  may  not  lurk  some 
particular  which  is  altogether  repugnant:  as  if 
Samuel  should  have  rested  in  those  sons  of  Jesse 
which  were  brought  before  him  in  the  house,  and 
should  not  have  sought  David,  who  was  absent  in 
the  field."  He  never  presumed  to  actuntil  he  had 
tried  all  things;  never  used  one  of  Briareus's hun 
dred  hands,  until  he  had  opened  all  Argus's  hun 
dred  eyes.  He  acted  through  life  upon  his 
father's  favourite  maxim,  "  Stay  a  little,  that  we 
may  make  an  end  the  sooner." 

This  was  his  general  mode  of  proceeding, 
which,  when  the  experiment  was  attended  with 
difficulty,  generated  more  caution;  and  he  well 
knew  that,  of  all  experiments,  state  alterations 
are  the  most  difficult,  the  most  fraught  with  danger. 

Zealous  as  he  was  for  all  improvement;  believ 
ing,  as  he  did,  in  the  omnipotence  of  knowledge, 
that  "the  spirit  of  man  is  as  the  lamp  of  God, 
wherewith  he  searcheth  the  inwardness  of  all  se 
crets;"  and  branding  the  idolaters  of  old  times 
as  a  scandal  to  the  new,  he  says,  "  It  is  good  not 
to  try  experiments  in  states,  except  the  necessity 
be  urgent,  or  the  utility  evident :  and  well  to  be 
ware  that  it  be  the  reformation  that  draweth  on 
the  change,  and  not  desire  of  change  that  pre- 
tendeth  the  reformation :  that  novelty,  though  it 
be  not  rejected,  yet  be  always  suspected  ;  and,  as 
the  Scripture  saith,  'that  we  make  a  stand  upon 
the  ancient  way,  and  then  look  about  us,  and  dis 
cover  what  is  the  straight,  and  right  way,  and  so 
to  walk  in  it;'  always  remembering  that  there  is 
a  difference  in  innovations,  between  arts  and  civil 
affairs.  In  civil  affairs,  a  change,  even  for  the 


better,  is  to  be  suspected,  through  fear  of  disturb 
ance ;  because  they  depend  upon  authority,  con 
sent,  reputation,  and  opinion,  and  not  upon  de 
monstration  ;  but  arts  and  sciences  should  be  like 
mines,  resounding  on  all  sides  with  new  works 
and  further  progress." 

Such  was  the  state  of  his  mind  upon  entering 
into  public  life  at  the  commencement  of  the  par 
liament,  which  assembled  on  the  19th  of  March, 
1604,  when,  having  already  made  some  progress 
in  the  king's  affections,  he  was  returned  both  for 
St.  Albans  and  for  Ipswich,  which  borough  he 
elected  to  represent;  and,  at  this  early  period, 
so  great  a  favourite  was  he  with  the  House, 
that  some  of  the  members  proposed  him  as 
speaker. 

On  the  22d  of  March,  the  king  first  addressed 
the  parliament,  recommending  to  their  considera 
tion  the  union  of  the  two  kingdoms  ;  the  termina 
tion  of  religious  discontents ;  and  the  improve 
ment  of  the  law. 

Upon  the  return  of  the  Commons  to  the  Lower 
House,  the  storm  commenced.  Prayers  had 
scarcely  been  ended,  and  the  House  settled,  when 
one  member  proposed  the  immediate  considera 
tion  of  the  general  abuse  and  grievance  of  pur 
veyors  ; — the  burden  and  servitude  to  the  subjects 
of  the  kingdom,  attendant  upon  the  wardship  of 
children; — the  oppression  of  monopolies: — the 
abuses  of  the  Exchequer,  and  the  dispensation 
of  penal  statutes.  After  this  proposal,  received 
by  an  expressive  silence,  another  member  called 
the  attention  of  the  House  to  what  he  termed  three 
main  grievances :  the  burden,  charge,  and  vexa 
tion  of  the  commissaries'  courts; — the  suspension 
of  learned  and  grave  ministers  for  preaching 
against  popish  doctrine; — and  depopulations  by 
enclosure. 

To  consider  these  weighty  subjects  a  select 
committee  of  the  House  was  appointed,  including 
Bacon  as  one  of  the  members.  This  committee 
immediately  entered  upon  their  inquiries,  and,  so 
ready  were  the  parties  with  their  evidence,  and  so 
active  the  members  in  their  proceedings,  that  on 
the  26th  Bacon  made  his  report  to  the  House  of 
the  result  of  their  investigations. 

The  political  discontent,  thus  first  manifested, 
increased  yearly  under  the  reign  of  James,  and 
having  brought  his  son  to  the  scaffold,  continued 
till  the  combustible  matter  was  dispersed.  "  Crom 
well,"  it  was  said,  "became  Protector,  because 
the  people  of  England  were  tired  of  kings,  and 
Charles  was  restored  because  they  were  weary 
of  Protectors."  Such  are  the  consequences  of 
neglecting  gradual  reform. 

During  the  whole  of  the  conflicts  in  the  com 
mencement  of  this  stormy  session,  Bacon's  exer 
tions  were  unremitting.  He  spoke  in  every  debate. 
j  He  sat  upon  twenty-nine  committees,  many  of 
them  appointed  for  the  consideration  of  (he  import- 
l  ant  questions  agitated  at  that  eventful  time      lie 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


was  selected  to  attend  the  conferences  of  the  privy 
council;  to  report  the  result;  and  to  prepare 
various  remonstrances  and  addresses  ;  was  nomi 
nated  as  a  mediator  between  the  Commons  and 
the  Lords;  and  chosen  by  the  Commons  to  pre 
sent  to  the  king-  a  petition  touching  purveyors. 

To  his  address,  clothed  in  language  the  most 
respectful,  yet  distinctly  pointing  out  what  was 
expected  by  the  people,  the  king  listened  with 
the  patience  due  from  a  sovereign  to  his  suffering 
and  oppressed,  subjects  ;  and  instead  of  the  dis 
pleasure  felt  by  Elizabeth  at  his  firm  and  honest 
boldness,  he  received  it  kindly,  and  replied  to  it 
graciously. 

Many  of  his  speeches  are  fortunately  preserved  : 
they  are  all  distinguished  for  their  fitness  for  the 
hearers  and  the  occasion,  their  knowledge  of  affairs, 
and  their  pithy,  weighty  eloquence. 

The  king  had  hitherto  continued  to  employ 
Bacon,  in  the  same  manner  in  which  he  had  served 
the  late  queen ;  but  he  now  thought  fit  to  show 
him  higher  marks  of  favour  than  he  had  received 
from  her  majesty;  and,  accordingly,  on  the  25th 
of  August,  1604,  constituted  him  by  patent  his 
counsel  learned  in  the  law,  with  a  fee  of  forty 
pounds  a  year,  which  is  said  to  have  been  a 
"grace  scarce  known  before;"  and  he  granted 
him  the  same  day,  by  another  patent  under  the 
great  seal,  a  pension  of  sixty  pounds  a  year,  for 
special  services  received  from  his  brother  Anthony 
Bacon  and  himself. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  either  political 
altercations  or  legal  promotions  diverted  his  atten 
tion  from  the  acquisition  and  diffusion  of  know 
ledge.  He  knew  well  the  relative  worth  of 
politics  and  philosophy. 

His  love  of  knowledge  was  never  checked,  per 
haps  it  was  increased  by  his  occupations  in  active 
life.  "We  judge,"  he  says,  "that  mankind  may 
conceive  some  hopes  from  our  example,  which 
we  offer,  not  by  way  of  ostentation,  but  because 
it  may  be  useful.  If  any  one  therefore  should 
despair,  let  him  consider  a  man  as  much  employ 
ed  in  civil  affairs  as  any  other  of  his  age,  a  man 
of  no  great  share  of  health,  who  must  therefore 
have  lost  much  time,  and  yet,  in  this  undertak 
ing  he  is  the  first  that  leads  the  way,  unassisted 
by  any  mortal,  and  steadfastly  entering  the  true 
path,  that  was  absolutely  untrod  before,  and  sub 
mitting  his  mind  to  things,  may  somewhat  have 
advanced  the  design."  Politics  employed,  but 
the  love  of  knowledge  occupied  his  mind.  It  ad 
vanced  like  the  river,  which  is  said  to  flow  with 
out  mingling  her  streams  with  the  waters  of  the 
lake  through  which  it  passes. 

During  the  vacation  of  this  year,  he  escaped 
from  exertions  respecting  the  Union,  to  Eton, 
where  he  conversed  on  the  subject  of  education 
with  his  friend,  Sir  Henry  Saville,  then  provost 
of  the  college ;  to  whom,  upon  his  return,  he 
\vrote  the  following  letter  : 


To  Sir  Henry  Saville. 

Coming  back  from  your  invitation  at  Eton* 
where  I  had  refreshed  myself  with  company, 
which  I  loved ;  I  fell  into  a  consideration  of  that 
part  of  policy  whereof  philosophy  speaketh  too 
much,  and  laws  too  little;  and  that  is,  of  educa 
tion  of  youth.  Whereupon  fixing  my  mind  a  while, 
I  found  straightway s,  and  noted,  even  in  the  dis 
courses  of  philosophers,  which  are  so  large  in  this 
argument,  a  strange  silence  concerning  one  prin 
cipal  part  of  that  subject.  For  as  touching  the 
framing  and  seasoning  of  youth  to  moral  virtues, 
(as  tolerance  of  labours,  continency  from  plea 
sures,  obedience,  honour,  and  the  like,)  they 
handle  it ;  but  touching  the  improvement  and  helping 
of  the  intellectual  powers,  as  of  conceit,  memory, 
and  judgment,  they  say  nothing ,  whether  it  were, 
that  they  thought  it  to  be  a  matter  wherein 
nature  only  prevailed,  or  that  they  intended  it, 
as  referred  to  the  several  and  proper  arts,  which 
teach  the  use  of  reason  and  speech. 

But  for  the  former  of  these  two  reasons,  howso 
ever  it  pleaseth  them  to  distinguish  of  habits  and 
powers;  the  experience  is  manifest  enough,  that 
the  motions  and  faculties  of  the  wit  and  memory 
may  be  not  only  governed  and  guided,  but  also 
confirmed  and  enlarged,  by  customs  and  exercise 
daily  applied  :  as  if  a  man  exercise  shooting,  he 
shall  not  only  shoot  nearer  the  mark,  but  also 
draw  a  stronger  bow.  And  as  for  the  latter,  of  com 
prehending  these  precepts  within  arts  of  logic  and 
rhetoric  :  if  it  be  rightly  considered,  their  office  is 
distinct  altogether  from  this  point ;  for  it  is  no  part 
of  the  doctrine  of  the  use  or  handling  of  an  instru 
ment,  to  teach  how  to  whet  or  grind  the  instru 
ment,  to  give  it  a  sharp  edge,  or  how  to  quench  it,  or 
otherwise,  whereby  to  give  it  a  stronger  temper. 

Wherefore,  finding  this  part  of  knowledge  not 
broken,  I  have,  but  "  lanquam  aliud  agens,"  en 
tered  into  it,  and  salute  you  with  it ;  dedicating 
it,  after  the  ancient  manner,  first  as  to  a  dear 
friend,  and  then  as  to  an  apt  person  ;  for  as  much 
as  you  have  both  place  to  practise  it,  and  judg 
ment  and  leisure  to  look  deeper  into  it  than  I 
have  done.  Herein  you  must  call  to  mind, 
vApts-ov  /.<lv  vtwp.  Though  the  argument  be  not 
of  great  height  and  dignity,  nevertheless  it  is 
of  great  and  universal  use.  And  yet  I  do  not  see 
why,  to  consider  it  rightly,  that  should  not  be  a 
learning  of  height  which  teacheth  to  raise  the 
highest  and  worthiest  part  of  the  mind.  But 
howsoever  that  be,  if  the  world  take  any  light  and 
use  by  this  writing,  I  will  the-  gratulation  tie  to 
the  good  friendship  and  acquaintance  between  us 
two.  And  so  recommend  you  to  God's  divine 
protection. 

With  this  letter  he  presented  a  tract  upon 
"  Helps  to  the  Intellectual  Powers,"  which  con 
tains  similar  observations  upon  the  importance  of 
knowledge  and  improvement  of  the  body. 


LIFE  OF  BAG'ON. 


xlix 


Strength. 


From  these  suggestions,  the  germ  of  his  opi 
nions  upon  the  same  subject  in  the  Advancement 
of  Learning,  it  appears  that  he  considered  the  ob 
ject  of  education  to  be  knowledge  and  improve 
ment  of  the  body  and  of  the  mind. 

How  far  society  has,  after  the  lapse  of  two 
centuries,  concurred  with  him  in  these  opinions, 
and,  if  he  is  not  in  error,  how  far  we  have  acted 
upon  his  suggestions,  may  deserve  a  moment's 
consideration. 

Bacon  arranges  knowledge  respecting  the  body 
into 

"1.  The  preservation. 
Health.    <!  2.  The  cure  of  diseases. 

3.  The  prolongation  of  life. 

Athletic. 
2.  Gymnastics. 

in.  Beauty, 
iv.  Pleasure. 

These  subjects,  considered  of  importance  by 
Bacon,  by  the  ancients,  and  by  all  physiologists, 
do  not  form  any  part  of  our  university  education. 
The  formation  of  bodily  habits,  upon  which  our 
happiness  and  utility  must  be  founded,  are  left  to 
chance,  to  the  customs  of  our  parents,  or  the 
practices  of  our  first  college  associates.  All  na 
ture  strives  for  life  and  for  health.  The  smallest 
moss  cannot  be  moved  without  disturbing  my 
riads  of  living  beings.  If  any  part  of  the  animal 
firame  is  injured,  the  whole  system  is  active  in 
restoring  it:  but  man  is  daily  cut  off  or  withered, 
in  his  prime ;  and,  at  the  age  of  fifty,  we  stand 
amidst  the  tombs  of  our  early  friends. 

At  some  future  time  the  admonition  of  Bacon, 
*hat  "  although  the  world,  to  a  Christian  travelling 
10  the  land  of  promise,  be  as  it  were  a  wilderness, 
yet  that  our  shoes  and  vestments  be  less  worn 
away  while  we  sojourn  in  this  wilderness,  is  to 
be  esteemed  a  gift  coming  from  divine  good 
ness,"  may,  perhaps,  be  considered  deserving  at 
tention. 

Bacon  arranges  knowledge  respecting  the  mind 
into. 

f~l.  Invention. 

i.  The  understanding.*^ 

4.  Tradition. 


ii.  The  will. 


1.  The  image  of  good. 

2.  The  culture  of  the  mind. 


In  the  English  universities  there  is  not,  except 
by  a  few  lectures,  some  meager  explanations  of 
logic,  and  some  indirect  instruction  by  mathe 
matics  upon  mental  fixedness,  any  information 
imparted  upon  the  nature  or  conduct  of  the  under 
standing,  and  Locke  might  now  repeat  what  he 
said  more  than  a  century  ago :  «  Although  it  is  of 
the  highest  concernment  that  great  care  should 
be  taken  of  the  mind,  to  conduct  it  right  in  the 

VOL.    I— (7) 


search  of  knowledge,  and  in  the  judgments  it 
makes:  yet  the  last  resort  a  man  has  recourse 
to  in  the  conduct  of  himself  is  his  understanding. 
A  few  rules  of  logic  are  thought  sufficient  in  this 
case  for  those  who  pretend  to  the  highest  im 
provement:  and  it  is  easy  to  preceive  that  men 
are  guilty  of  a  great  many  faults  in  the  exercise 
and  improvement  of  this  faculty  of  the  mind, 
which  hinder  them  in  their  progress,  and  keep 
them  in  ignorance  and  error  all  their  lives." 

At  some  future  period  our  youth  will,  perhaps, 
be  instructed  in  the  different  properties  of  our 
minds,  understanding,  reason,  imagination,  me 
mory,  will,  and  be  taught  the  nature  and  extent 
of  our  powers  for  the  discovery  of  truth ; — our 
different  motives  for  the  exercise  of  our  powers  ; — 
the  various  obstacles  to  the  acquisition  of  know 
ledge, — and  the  art  of  invention,  by  which  our 
reason  will  be  "rightly  guided,  and  directed  to 
the  place  where  the  star  appears,  and  point  to  the 
very  house  where  the  babe  lies." 

In  the  English  universities  there  are  not  any 
lectures  upon  the  passions;  but  this  subject, 
deemed  important  by  all  philosophy,  human  and 
divine,  is  disregarded,  except  by  such  indirect  in 
formation  as  may  be  obtained  from  the  poets  and 
historians ;  by  whom  the  love  of  our  country  is 
taught — perhaps,  if  only  one  mode  is  adopted, 
best  taught — in  the  midst  of  Troy's  flames:  and 
friendship  by  Nisus  eagerly  sacrificing  his  own 
life  to  save  his  beloved  Euryalus :  and  with  such 
slight  information  we  are  suffered  to  embark  upon 
our  voyage,  without  any  direct  instruction  as  to 
the  tempests  by  which  we  may  be  agitated;  by 
which  so  many,  believing  they  are  led  by  light 
from  heaven,  are  wrecked  and  lost ;  and  so  few 
reach  the  true  haven  of  a  well  ordered  mind ;  "  that 
temple  of  God  which  he  graceth  with  his  perfec 
tion  and  blesseth  with  his  peace,  not  suffering  it 
to  be  removed,  although  the  earth  be  removed,  and 
although  the  mountains  be  carried  into  the  midst 
of  the  sea." 

At  some  future  time  it  may  be  deemed  worthy 
of  consideration,  whether  inquiry  ought  not  to  be 
made  of  the  nature  of  each  passion,  and  the  har 
mony  which  results  from  the  exact  and  regular 
movement  of  the  whole. 

In  the,  fall  of  the  year,  Bacon  expressed  to  the 
lord  chancellor  an  inclination  to  write  a  history 
of  Great  Britain ;  and  he  prepared  a  work,  in 
scribed  to  the  king,  upon  its  true  greatness. 

"  Fortunatos  nirnium  sua  si  bona  norint." 

In  this  work,  in  which,  he  says,  he  has  not  any 
purpose  vainly  to  represent  this  greatness,  as  in 
water,  which  shows  things  bigger  than  they  are, 
but  rather,  as  by  an  instrument  of  art,  helping  the 
sense  to  take  a  true  magnitude  and  dimension,  he 
intended  an  investigation  of  the  general  truths 
upon  which  the  prosperity  of  states  depends,  with 
a  particular  application  of  them  to  this  island. 
(E) 


1 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


He  has,  however,  only  drawn  the  outline,  and 
filled  up  two  or  three  detached  parts,  reserving 
the  minute  investigation  of  the  whole  subject  for 
other  works. 

According  to  his  usual  method,  he  commences 
the  tract  by  clearing  the  way,  in  the  removal  of 
some  erroneous  opinions,  on  the  dependence 
of  government  upon  extent  of  territory  ; — upon 
wealth; — upon  fruitfulness  of  soil; — and  upon 
fortified  towns.  Each  of  these  subjects  it  was 
his  intention  to  have  separately  considered,  but 
he  has  in  this  fragment  completed  only  the  two 
first  sections. 

To  expose  the  error,  that  the  strength  of  a 
kingdom  depends  upon  the  extent  of  territory, 
"  Look,"  he  says,  "  at  the  kingdom  of  Persia, 
which  extended  from  Egypt  to  Bactria  and  the 
borders  of  the  East,  and  yet  was  overthrown  and 
conquered  by  a  nation  not  much  bigger  than  the 
isle  of  Britain.  Look,  too,  at  the  state  of  Rome, 
which,  when  too  extensive,  became  no  better  than 
a  carcass,  whereupon  all  the  vultures  and  birds 
of  prey  of  the  world  did  seize  and  ravine  for 
many  ages ;  as  a  perpetual  monument  of  the 
essential  differences  between  the  scale  of  miles 
and  the  scale  of  forces  :  and  that  the  natural  arms 
of  each  province,  or  the  protecting  arms  of  the 
principal  state,  may,  when  the  territory  is  too  ex 
tensive,  be  unable  to  counteract  the  two  dangers 
incident  to  every  government,  foreign  invasion 
and  inward  rebellion." 

Having  thus  generally  refuted  this  erroneous 
opinion,  he  beautifully  explains  that  the  power  of 
territory,  as  to  extent,  consists  in  compactness, 
— with  the  heart  sufficient  to  support  the  extremi 
ties  ; — the  arms,  or  martial  virtues,  answerable 
to  the  greatness  of  dominion ; — and  every  part  of 
the  state  profitable  to  the  whole.  Each  of  these 
sections  is  explained  with  his  usual  extensive  and 
minute  investigation,  and  his  usual  felicity  of 
familiar  illustration. 

With  respect  to  compactness,  he  says,  "  Re 
member  the  tortoise,  which,  when  any  part  is 
put  forth  from  the  shell,  is  endangered." 

With  respect  to  the  heart  being  sufficient  to 
sustain  the  extremities,  "  Remember,  "  he  says, 
"that  the  state  of  Rome,  when  it  grew  great,  was 
compelled  to  naturalize  the  Latins,  because  the 
Roman  stem  could  not  bear  the  provinces  and 
Italy  both  as  branches ;  and  the  like  they  were 
contented  after  to  do  to  most  of  the  Gauls  :  and 
Sparta,  when  it  embraced  a  larger  empire,  was 
compared  to  a  river,  which,  after  it  had  run  a 
great  way,  and  taken  other  rivers  and  streams 
into  it,  ran  strong  and  mighty,  but  about  the  head 
and  fountain  was  shallow  and  weak." 

With  respect  to  martial  valour,  "Look,"  he 
says,  "at  every  conquered  state,  at  Persia  and  at 
Rome,  which,  while  they  flourished  in  arms,  the 
largeness  of  territory  was  a  strength  to  them,  and 
added  forces,  added  treasure,  added  reputation : 


but  when  tney  decayed  in  ;»rms,  then  greatness 
became  a  burden ;  like  as  great  stature  in  a  na 
tural  body  is  some  advantage  in  youth,  but  is  a 
burden  in  age ;  so  it  is  with  great  territory 
which  when  a  state  beginneth  to  decline,  doth 
make  it  stoop  and  buckle  so  much  the  faster." 

And  with  respect  to  each  part  being  profitable. 
to  the  whole,  he  says,  in  allusion  to  the  fable  in 
^Esop,  by  which  Agrippa  appeased  the  tumult, 
that  health  of  body  and  of  state  is  promoted  by 
the  due  action  of  all  its  parts,  "  Some  provinces 
are  more  wealthy,  some  more  populous,  and  some 
more  warlike ;  some  situa'te  aptly  for  the  exclud 
ing  or  expulsing  of  foreigners,  and  some  for  the 
annoying  and  bridling  of  suspected  and  tumultu 
ous  subjects  :  some  are  profitable  in  present,  and 
some  may  be  converted  and  improved  to  profit  by 
plantations  and  good  policy." 

He  proceeds  with  the  same  minuteness  to  ex 
pose  the  error,  that  the  power  of  government  con 
sists  in  riches  ;  by  explaining  that  the  real  power 
of  wealth  depends  upon  mediocrity,  joined  with 
martial  valour  and  intelligence. 

The  importance  of  martial  valour  and  high  chi- 
valric  spirit  he  avails  himself  of  every  opportunity 
to  enforce.  "Well,"  he  says,  "did  Solon,  who 
was  no  contemplative  man,  say  to  Croesus,  upon 
his  showing  him  his  great  treasures,  '  When  an 
other  comes  with  iron  he  will  be  master  of  all 
your  gold:'  so  Machiavel  justly  derideth  the 
adage  that  money  is  the  sinews  of  war,  by  saying, 
'There  are  no  sinews  of  war  but  the  sinews  and 
muscles  of  men's  arms.'  " 

So  impressed  was  he  with  the  importance  of 
elevating  the  national  character,  that,  three  years 
before  his  death,  he  spoke  with  still  greater  ener 
gy  upon  this  subject,  in  his  treatise  upon  the 
Greatness  of  States.  "  Above  all  things,"  he 
says,  "  cultivate  a  stout  and  warlike  disposition 
of  the  people;  for  walled  towns,  stored  arsenals, 
goodly  races  of  horses,  chariots  of  war,  elephants, 
ordnance,  artillery,  and  the  like,  all  this  is  but 
sheep  in  a  lion's  skin,  unless  the  breeding  and 
disposition  of  the  people  be  warlike  ;"  and,  "as 
to  the  illusion  that  wealth  may  buy  assistance, 
let  the  state  which  trusts  to  mercenary  forces 
ever  remember,  that,  by  these  purchases,  if  it 
spread  its  feathers  for  a  time  beyond  the  com 
pass  of  its  nest,  it  will  mew  them  soon  after ;" 
and,  in  this  spirit,  he  records  various  maxims  to 
counteract  the  debasement  of  character  attendant 
upon  the  worship  of  gold  :  and,  above  all,  the  evil 
of  sedentary  and  within-door  mechanical  arts,  re 
quiring  rather  the  finger  than  the  arm:  which  in 
Sparta,  Athens,  and  Rome,  was  left  to  slaves,  and 
amongst  Christians  should  be  the  employmentof 
aliens,  and  not  of  the  natives,  who  should  be  til 
lers  of  the  ground,  free  servants,  arid  labourers  in 
strong  and  manly  arts. 

Such  were  the  opinions  of  Bacon.  How  farthey 
will  meet  with  the  approbation  of  political  econo- 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


li 


mists  in  these  enlightened  times,  it  is  not  neces 
sary  in  this  analysis  of  his  sentiments,  to  inquire. 
If  he  is  in  error,  he  may,  in  the  infancy  of  the 
science  of  government,  be  pardoned  for  suppos 
ing  that  the  national  character  would  not  be  ele 
vated  by  making  sentient  man  a  machine,  or  by 
those  processes,  by  which  bones  and  sinews,  life 
and  all  that  adorns  life,  is  transmuted  into  gold. 
The  bell  by  which  the  labourers  are  summoned  to 
these  many-windowed  fabrics  in  our  manufactur 
ing  towns,  sweeter  to  the  lovers  of  gain  than  holy 
bell  that  tolls  to  parish  church,  would  have  sound 
ed  upon  Bacon's  ear  with  harsher  import  than  the 
Norman  curfew.  He  may  be  pardoned,  though 
he  should  warn  us  that  in  these  temples,  not  of 
liberty,  the  national  character  will  not  be  elevated 
by  the  employment  of  children,  not  in  the  temper 
of  Him  who  took  them  in  his  arms,  put  his  hands 
upon  them  and  blessed  them,  but  in  never-ceasing 
labour,  with  their  morals  sapped  and  undermined, 
their  characters  lowered  and  debased.  It  is  pos 
sible  that  if  he  had  witnessed  the  cowering  looks 
and  creeping  gait,  or  shameless  mirth  of  these 
little  slaves,  he  might  have  thought  of  Thebes, 
or  Tyre,  or  Palmyra,  and  of  the  instability  of  all 
human  governments,  whatever  their  present  riches 
or  grandeur  may  be,  unless  the  people  are  ele 
vated  by  virtue. 

Such,  however,  were  his  sentiments ;  and,  even 
if  they  are  erroneous,  it  cannot  but  be  lamented 
that  the  only  parts  of  this  work  which  are  com 
pleted  and  applied  to  Great  Britain,  are  those 
which  relate  to  extent  and  wealth.  The  remain 
ing  errors  of  fruitfulness  of  the  soil,  and  fortified 
towns,  are  not  investigated. 

Having  thus  cleared  the  way  by  showing  in 
what  the  strength  of  government  does  not  consist, 
he  intended  to  explain  in  what  it  did  consist: 

1.  In  a  fit  situation,  to  which  his  observations  are 
confined. 

2.  In  the  population  and  breed  of  men. 

3.  In  the  valour  and  military  disposition  of  the 

people. 

4.  In  the  fitness  of  every  man  to  be  a  soldier. 

5.  In  the  temper  of  the  government  to  elevate 

the  national  character ;  and, 

6.  In  command  of  the  sea :  the  dowry  of  Great 

Britain. 

During  the  next  terms  and  the  next  sessions  of 
parliament,  (1605,  Mi.  45,)  his  legal  and  political 
exertions  continued  without  intermission.  Com 
mittees  were  appointed  for  the  consideration  of 
subsidies  ;  of  articles  for  religion ;  purveyors  ; 
recusants ;  restoring  deposed  ministers  ;  abuses 
of  the  Marshalsea  court,  and  for  the  better  execu 
tion  of  penal  laws  in  ecclesiastical  causes.  He 
was  a  member  of  them  all ;  and,  mindful  of  the 
mode  in  which,  during  the  late  session,  he  had 
discharged  his  duties  as  representative  of  the 
House,  he  was  elected  to  deliver  to  the  king  the 


|  charge  of  the  Commons  respecting  ecclesiastical 
I  grievances. 

In  every  debate  in  this  session  he  was  the  pow 
erful  advocate,  in  speeches  which  now  exist,  for 
the  union  of  the  kingdoms  and  the  union  of  the 
laws ;  during  which  he  availed  himself,  accord 
ing  to  his  usual  mode,  when  opportunity  offered, 
to  recommend  as  the  first  reform,  the  reform  of 
the  law,  saying,  "  The  mode  of  uniting  the  laws 
seemeth  to  me  no  less  excellent  than  the  work 
itself;  for  if  both  laws  shall  be  united,  it  is  of  ne 
cessity  for  preparation  and  inducement  thereunto, 
that  our  own  laws  be  reviewed  and  recompiled  ; 
than  the  which,  I  think,  there  cannot  be  a  work 
that  his  majesty  can  undertake  in  these  his  times 
I  of  peace,  more  politic,  more  honourable,  nor  more 
beneficial  to  his  subjects,  for  all  ages." 

In  the  midst  of  these  laborious  occupations  he 
published  his  celebrated  work  upon  "  the  Ad 
vancement  of  Learning,"  which  professes  to  be 
a  survey  of  the  then  existing  knowledge,  with  a 
designation  of  the  parts  of  science  which  were 
unexplored  ;  the  cultivated  parts  of  the  intellectual 
world,  and  the  deserts ;  a  finished  picture,  with  an 
outline  of  what  was  untouched. 

Within  the  outline  is  included  the  whole  of 
science.  After  having  examined  the  objections 
to  learning ; — the  advantages  of  learning  ; — the 
places  of  learning,  or  universities ; — the  books  of 
learning,  or  libraries,  "the  shrines  where  all  the 
relics  of  the  ancient  saints,  full  of  true  virtue, 
and  that  without  delusion  or  imposture,  are  pre 
served  and  reposed  ;" — after  having  thus  cleared 
the  way,  and,  as  it  were,  "made  silence,  to  have 
the  true  nature  of  learning  better  heard  and  un 
derstood,"  he  investigates  all  knowledge  : 

1st.  Relating  to  the  Memory,  or  History. 
2d.  Relating  to   the  Imagination,  or  Poetry. 
3d.  Relating  to  the  Understanding,  or  Philo 
sophy. 

Such  is  the  outline :  within  it  the  work  is  mi 
nutely  arranged,  abounds  with  great  felicity  of 
expression,  and  nervous  language:  but  riot  con 
tenting  himself,  by  such  arrangement,  with  the 
mere  exhibition  of  truth,  he  adorned  it  with  fa 
miliar,  simple,  and  splendid  imagery. 

When  speaking  of  the  error  of  common  minds 
retiring  from  active  life,  he  says, "  Pythagoras, 
being  asked  what  he  was,  answered,  that  if  Hiero 
were  ever  at  the  Olympic  games,  he  knew  the 
manner,  that  some  came  as  merchants  to  utter  their 
commodities,  and  some  came  to  make  good  cheer, 
and  some  came  to  look  on,  and  that  he  was  one  of 
them  that  came  to  look  on ;  but  men  must  know, 
that  in  this  theatre  of  man's  life,  it  is  reserved 
only  for  God  and  angels  to  be  lookers-on."  So, 
when  explaining  the  danger  to  which  intellect  is 
exposed  of  running  out  into  sensual. ly  on  its  re 
tirement  from  active  life,  he  says,  in  another  work, 
"  When  I  was  chancellor  I  told  Gondomar,  the 


lii 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Spanish  ambassador,  that  I  would  willingly  for 
bear  the  honour  to  get  rid  of  the  burden;  that  I 
had  always  a  desire  to  lead  a  private  life.  Gon- 
domar  answered,  that  he  would  tell  me  a  tale ; 
'  My  lord,  there  was  once  an  old  rat  that  would 
needs  leave  the  world  :  he  acquainted  the  young 
rats  that  he  would  retire  into  his  hole,  and  spend 
his  days  in  solitude,  and  commanded  them  to  re 
spect  his  philosophical  seclusion.  They  forbore 
two  or  three  days :  at  last  one,  hardier  than  his 
fellows,  ventured  in  to  see  how  he  did ;  lie 
entered,  and  found  him  sitting  in  the  midst  of  a 
rich  Parmesan  cheese.' " 

In  such  familiar  explanations  did  he  indulge 
himself:  it  being  his  object  not  to  inflate  trifles 
into  marvels,  but  to  reduce  marvels  to  plain 
things.  Of  these  simple  modes  of  illustrating 
truth  it  appears,  from  a  volume  of  Apothegms, 
published  in  the  decline  of  his  life,  and  a  recom 
mendation  of  them,  in  this  treatise,  as  a  useful  ap 
pendage  to  history,  that  he  had  formed  a  collection. 

When  the  subject  required  it,  he,  without  de 
parting  from  simplicity,  selected  images  of  a 
higher  nature ;  as,  when  explaining  how  the 
body  acts  upon  the  mind,  and  anticipating  the 
common  senseless  observation,  that  such  investi 
gations  are  injurious  to  religion,  "Do  not,"  he 
says,  "  imagine  that  inquiries  of  this  nature  ques 
tion  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  or  derogate  from 
its  sovereignty  over  the  body.  The  infant  in  its 
mother's  womb  partakes  of  the  accidents  of  its 
mother,  but  is  separable  in  due  season."  So,  too, 
when  explaining  that  the  body  is  decomposed  by 
the  depredation  of  innate  spirit  and  of  ambient 
air,  and  that  if  the  action  of  these  causes  can  be 
prevented,  the  body  will  defy  decomposition; 
"  Have  you  never,"  he  says.  "  seen  a  fly  in 
amber,  more  beautifully  entombed  than  r.n  Egyp 
tian  monarch  ?"  and,  when  speaking  of  the  re 
semblance  in  the  different  parts  of  nature,  and 
railing  upon  his  readers  to  observe  that  truths  are 
general,  he  says,  "  Is  not  the  delight  of  the  qua 
vering  upon  a  stop  in  music  the  same  with  the 
playing  of  light  upon  the  water, 

"'  Splemlet  tremulo  sub  luiniiic  pontusT" 

Such  are  his  beautiful  and  playful  modes  of  fami 
liarizing  abstruse  subjects  :  but  to  such  instances 
he  did  not  confine  himself,  lie  was  too  well 
acquainted  with  our  nature,  merely  to  explain 
truth,  without  occasionally  raising  the  mind  by 
noble  and  lofty  images  to  love  it. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that,  because  he  illus 
trated  his  thoughts,  he  was  misled  by  imacrina- 
tion,  which  never  had  precedence,  but  always 
followed  in  the  train  of  his  reason :  or,  because 
he  had  recourse  to  arrangement,  that  he  was  en 
slaved  by  method,  which  he  always  disliked,  as 
impeding  the  progress  of  knowledge.  It  is, 
therefore,  his  constant  admonition,  that  a  plain, 
unadorned  style,  in  aphorisms,  is  the  proper  style 


for  philosophy;  and  in  aphorisms,  the  Novnm 
Organum  and  his  tract  on  Universal  Justice  are 
composed.  But,  although  this  was  his  genera! 
opinion ;  although  he  was  too  well  acquainted 
with  what  he  terms  the  idols  of  the  mind,  to  be 
diverted  from  truth  by  the  love  of  order:  yet, 
knowing  the  charms  of  theory  and  system,  and  the 
necessity  of  adopting  them  to  insure  a  favourable 
reception  for  abstruse  works,  he  did  not  reject 
these  garlands,  at  once  the  ornament  and  fetters 
of  science.  They  may  now,  perhaps,  be  laid 
aside,  and  the  noble  temple  which  he  raised  may 
he  destroyed  ;  but  its  gorgeous  magnificence  will 
never  be  forgotten,  and  amidst  the  ruins  a  noble 
statue  will  be  seen  by  every  true  worshipper  of 
beauty  and  of  knowledge. 

To  form  a  correct  judgment  of  the  merits  of 
this  treatise,  it  is  but  justice  to  the  author  to  re 
member  both  the  time  when  it  was  written  and 
the  persons  for  whom  it  was  composed  ;  "length 
and  ornament  of  speech  being  fit  for  persuasion 
of  multitudes,  although  not  for  information  of 
kings." 

The  work  is  divided  into  two  books :  the  first 
consisting  of  his  dedication  to  the  king: — of  his 
statement  of  the  objections  to  learning,  by  divines, 
by  politicians,  and  from  the  errors  of  learned  men  ; 
— and  of  some  of  the  advantages  of  knowledge. 

If,  in  compliance  with  the  custom  of  the  times, 
or  from  an  opinion  that  wisdom,  although  it 
ought  not  to  stoop  to  persons,  should  submit  to 
occasions,  or  from  a  morbid  anxiety  to  accelerate 
the  advancement  of  knowledge,  Bacon  could  de 
lude  himself  by  the  supposition  that  this  fulsome 
dedication  to  the  king  was  consistent  either  with 
the  simplicity  or  dignity  of  philosophy,  he  must 
have  forgotten  what  Seneca  said  to  Nero :  "  Suffer 
me  to  stay  here  a  little  longer  with  thee,  not  to 
flatter  thine  ear,  for  that  is  not  my  custom,  as  I 
have  always  preferred  to  offend  by  truth  than  to 
please  by  flattery. "  He  must  have  forgotten  that 
when  j^Esoj)  said  to  Solon,  "Either  we  must  not 
come  to  princes,  or  we  must  seek  to  please  and 
content  them  ;"  Solon  answered,  "  Either  we  must 
not  come  to  princes  at  all,  or  we  must  speak  truly, 
and  counsel  them  for  the  best."  He  must  have 
forgotten  his  own  doctrine,  that  books  ought  to 
have  no  patrons  but  truth  and  reason;  and  he  must 
also  have  forgotten  his  own  nervous  and  beautiful 
admonition,  that  "the  honest  and  just  bounds  of 
observation  by  one  person  upon  another,  extend  no 
further  but  to  understand  him  sufficiently,  whereby 
not  to  give  him  offence,  or  whereby  to  be  able  to 
give  him  faithful  counsel ;  or  whereby  to  stand  upon 
reasonable  guard  and  caution  with  respect  to  a 
man's  self:  but  to  be  speculative  into  another 
man,  to  the  end  to  know  how  to  work  him,  or  wind 
lim,  or  govern  him,  proceedeth  from  a  heart  that 
is  double  and  cloven,  and  not  entire  and  ingenuous, 
which  as  in  friendship  it  is  want  of  integrity,  so 
towards  princes  or  superiors  it  is  want  of  duty." 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


liii 


If  his  work  had  been  addressed  to  the  philoso 
phy  of  the  country,  instead  of  having  confined  his 
professional  objections  to  divines  and  politicians, 
he  would  have  explained  that,  as  our  opinions 
always  constitute  our  intellectual  and  often  our 
worldly  wealth,  prejudice  is  common  to  us  all, 
and  is  particularly  conspicuous  amongst  all  pro 
fessional  men,  with  respect  to  the  sciences  which 
they  profess. 

His  objections  to  learning  from  the  errors  of 
learned  men,  contain  his  observations  upon  the 
study  of  words;  upon  useless  knowledge;  and 
upon  falsehood,  called  by  him  delicate  learning ; 
contentious  learning;  and  fantastical  learning; 
all  of  them  erroneously  considered  objections  to 
learning ;  as  the  study  of  words  is  merely  the  se 
lection  of  one  species  of  knowledge  ;  and  conten 
tious  learning  is  only  the  conflict  of  opinion  which 
ever  exists  when  any  science  is  in  progress,  and 
the  way  from  sense  to  the  understanding  is  not 
sufficiently  cleared ;  and  falsehood  is  one  of  the 
consequences  attendant  upon  inquiry,  as  our 
opinions,  being  formed  not  only  by  impressions 
upon  our  senses,  but  by  confidence  in  the  com 
munication  of  others  and  our  own  reasonings,  un 
avoidably  teem  with  error,  which  can  by  time 
alone  be  corrected. 

As  it  is  Bacon's  doctrine  that  knowledge  con 
sists  in  understanding  the  properties  of  creatures 
and  the  names  by  which  they  are  called,  "the 
occupation  of  Adam  in  Paradise,"  it  may  seem 
extraordinary  that  he  should  not  have  formed  a 
higher  estimate  than  he  appears  to  have  formed 
of  the  study  of  words.  Words  assist  thought; 
they  teach  us  correctness ;  they  enable  us  to  ac 
quire  the  knowledge  and  character  of  other  na 
tions  ;  and  the  study  of  ancient  literature  in  par 
ticular,  if  it  is  not  an  exercise  of  the  intellect,  is  a 
discipline  of  humanity ;  if  it  do  not  strengthen 
the  understanding,  it  softens  and  refines  the  taste ; 
it  gives  us  liberal  views ;  it  accustoms  the  mind  to 
take  an  interest  in  things  foreign  to  itself;  to  love 
virtue  for  its  own  sake ;  to  prefer  glory  to  riches, 
arid  to  fix  our  thoughts  on  the  remote  and  perma 
nent,  instead  of  narrow  and  fleeting  objects.  It 
teaches  us  to  believe  that  there  is  really  some- 
flung  great  and  excellent  in  the  world,  surviving 
all  the  shocks  and  accidents  and  fluctuations  of 
opinion,  and  raises  us  above  that  low  and  servile 
fear,  which  bows  only  to  present  power  and  up 
start  authority.  Rome  and  Athens  filled  a  place  in 
the  history  of  mankind  which  can  never  be  occu 
pied  again.  They  were  two  cities  set  on  a  hill 
which  cannot  be  hid ;  all  eyes  have  seen  them, 
and  their  light  shines  like  a  mighty  sea-mark  into 
the  abyss  of  time  : 

"Still  green  with  bays  each  ancient  altar  stands." 

But,  notwithstanding  these  advantages,  Bacon 
says,  "the  studying  words  and  not  matter  is  a 
distemper  of  learning,  of  which  Pygmalion's 


frenzy  is  a  good  emblem ;  for  words  are  but 
images  of  matter,  and  to  fall  in  love  with  them  is 
all  one  as  to  fall  in  love  with  a  picture." 

These  different  subjects  are  classed  under  the 
quaint  expression  of  "Distempers  of  Learning," 
to  which,  that  the  metaphor  may  be  preserved,  he 
has  appended  various  other  defects,  under  the  more 
quaint  term  of  "  Peccant  Humours  of  Learning." 

His  observations  upon  the  advantages  of  learn 
ing,  although  encumbered  by  fanciful  and  minute 
analysis,  abound  with  beauty;  for, not  contenting 
himself  with  the  simple  position  with  which  phi 
losophy  would  be  satisfied,  that  knowledge  teaches 
us  how  to  select  what  is  beneficial,  and  avoid,  what 
is  injurious,  he  enumerates  various  modes,  divine 
and  human,  by  which  the  happiness  resulting  from 
knowledge  ever  has  been  and  ever  will  be  mani 
fested. 

After  having  stated  what  he  terms  divine  proofs 
of  the  advantages  of  knowledge,  he  says,  the  hu 
man  proofs  are : 

1.  Learning  diminishes  afflictions  from  nature. 

2.  Learning  diminishes  evils  from  man  toman. 

3.  There  is  a  union  between  learning  and  mili 

tary  virtue. 

4.  Learning  improves  private  virtues. 

1.  It  takes  away  the  barbarism  of  men's 

minds. 

2.  It  takes  away  levity,  temerity,  and  in- 

solency. 

3.  It  takes  away  vain  admiration, 

4.  It  takes  away,  or  mitigates  fear. 

5.  It  disposes  the  constitution  of  the  mind 

not  to  be  fixed  or  settled  in  its  defects, 
but  to  be  susceptible  of  growth  and 
reformation. 

5.  It  is  power. 

6.  It  advances  fortune. 

7.  It  is  our  greatest  source  of  delight. 

8.  It  insures  immortality. 

These  positions  are  proved  by  all  the  force  of 
his  reason,  and  adorned  by  all  the  beauty  of  his 
imagination.  When  speaking  of  the  power  of 
knowledge  to  repress  the  inconveniences  which 
arise  from  man  to  man,  he  says,  "  In  Orpheus's 
theatre  all  beasts  and  birds  assembled,  and,  for 
getting  their  several  appetites,  some  of  prey, 
some  of  game,  some  of  quarrel,  stood  all  sociably 
together,  listening  to  the  airs  and  accords  of  the 
harp;  the  sound  whereof  no  sooner  ceased,  or 
was  drowned  by  some  louder  noise,  but  every 
beast  returned  to  his  own  nature;  wherein  is 
aptly  described  the  nature  and  condition  of  men, 
who  are  full  of  savage  and  unreclaimed  desires 
of  profit,  of  lust,  of  revenge;  which,  as  long  as 
they  give  ear  to  precepts,  to  laws,  to  religion, 
sweetly  touched  with  eloquence  and  persuasion 
of  books,  of  sermons,  of  harangues,  so  long  is 
society  and  peace  maintained  ;  but  if  these  in 
struments  be  silent,  or  sedition  and  tumult  make 


liv 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


them  not  audible,  all  things  dissolve  into  anarchy 
and  confusion." 

So  when  explaining,  amidst  the  advantages  of 
knowledge,  its  excellency  in  diffusing  happiness 
through  succeeding  ages,  he  says,  "  Let  us  con 
clude  with  the  dignity  and  excellency  of  know 
ledge  and  learning  in  that  whereunto  man's  na 
ture  doth  most  aspire ;  which  is,  immortality  or 
continuance :  for  to  this  tendeth  generation,  and 
raising  of  houses  and  families;  to  this  buildings, 
foundations,  and  monuments;  to  this  tendeth  the 
desire  of  memory,  fame,  and  celebration,  and,  in 
effect,  the  strength  of  all  other  human  desires. 
We  see  then  how  far  the  monuments  of  wit  and 
learning  are  more  durable  than  the  monuments  of 
power  or  of  the  hands.  For,  have  not  the  verses 
of  Homer  continued  twenty-five  hundred  years, 
or  more,  without  the  loss  of  a  syllable  or  letter ; 
during  which  time  infinite  palaces,  temples, 
castles,  cities,  have  been  decayed  and  destroyed  ? 
It  is  not  possible  to  have  the  true  pictures  or 
statues  of  Cyrus,  Alexander,  Ctesar;  no,  nor  of 
the  kings  or  great  personages  of  much  later 
years;  for  the  originals  cannot  last,  and  the 
copies  cannot  but  leese  of  the  life  and  truth  :  but 
the  images  of  men's  wits  and  knowledges  remain 
ia  books  exempted  from  the  wrong  of  time,  and 
capable  of  perpetual  renovation.  Neither  are  they 
fitly  to  be  called  images,  because  they  generate 
still,  and  cast  their  seeds  in  the  minds  of  others, 
provoking  and  causing  infinite  actions  and  opinions  : 
in  succeeding  ages  ;  so  that,  if  the  invention  of 
the  ship  was  thought  so  noble,  which  carrieth 
riches  and  commodities  from  place  to  place,  and 
consociateth  the  most  remote  regions  in  participa 
tion  of  their  fruits,  how  much  more  are  letters  to 
be  magnified,  which,  as  ships,  pass  through  the 
vast  seas  of  time,  and  make  ages  so  distant  to 
participate  of  the  wisdom,  illuminations,  and  in 
ventions,  the  one  of  the  other1?" 

After  having  thus  explained  some  of  the  bless 
ings  attendant,  upon  knowledge,  he  concludes  the 
first  book  with  lamenting  that  these  blessings  are 
not  more  generally  preferred. 

The  second  book,  after  various  preliminary  ob 
servations,  and  particularly  upon  the  defects  of 
universities,  of  which,  from  the  supposition  that 
they  are  formed  rather  for  the  discovery  of  new 
knowledge  than  for  diffusing  the  knowledge  of 
our  predecessors,  he,  through  life,  seems  to  have 
formed  too  high  an  estimate,  he  arranges  and 
adorns  every  species  of  history,  which  he  in 
cludes  within  the  province  of  memory, — and  every 
species  of  poetry,  by  which  imagination  can 
"elevate  the  mind  from  the  dungeon  of  the  body 
to  the  enjoying  its  own  divine  essence:" — and, 
passing1  from  poetry,  by  saying,  "but  it  is  not 
good  to  stop  too  long  in  the  theatre  :  let  us  now 
pass  on  to  the  judicial  place  or  palace  of  the  mind, 
which  we  are  to  approach  and  view  with  more 
reference  and  attention,"  he  proceeds  to  the  inves 


tigation  of  every  species  of  philosophy,  divine? 
natural,  and  human,  of  which,  from  his  analysis 
of  human  philosophy,  or  the  science  of  man,  some 
conception  may  be  formed  of  the  extent  and  per 
fection  of  the  different  parts  of  the  work. 

These  different  subjects,  exhibited  with  this 
perspicuity,  are  adorned  with  beautiful  illustra 
tion  and  imagery  :  as,  when  explaining  the  doc 
trine  of  the  will,  divided  into  the  image  of  good, 
or  the  exhibition  of  truth,  and  the  culture  or 
Georgics  of  the  mind,  which  is  its  husbandry  or 
tillage,  so  as  to  love  the  truth  which  it  sees,  he 
says,  "  The  neglecting  these  Georgics  seemeth 
to  me  no  better  than  to  exhibit  a  fair  image  or 
statue,  beautiful  to  behold,  but  without  life  or 
motion."  *. 

Having  thus  made  a  small  globe  of  the  intel 
lectual  world,  he,  looking  at  the  work  he  had 
made,  and  hoping  that  it  was  good,  thus  con 
cludes  :  "And  being  now  at  some  pause,  looking 
back  into  that  I  have  passed  through,  this  writing 
seemeth  to  me,  '  si  nunquam  fallit  imago,'  (as 
far  as  a  man  can  judge  of  his  own  work,)  not 
much  better  than  the  noise  or  sound  which  mu 
sicians  make  while  they  are  tuning  their  instru 
ments,  which  is  nothing  pleasant  to  hear,  but  }7et 
is  a  cause  why  the  music  is  sweeter  afterwards : 
so  have  I  been  content  to  tune  the  instruments  of 
the  muses,  that  they  may  play  that  have  better 
hands.  And  surely,  when  I  set  before  me  the 
condition  of  these  times,  in  which  learning  hath 
made  her  third  visitation  or  circuit  in  all  the  qua 
lities  thereof:  as  the  excellency  and  vivacity  of 
the  wits  of  this  age;  the  noble  helps  and  lights 
which  we  have  by  the  travails  of  ancient  writers  ; 
the  art  of  printing,  which  communicateth  books 
to  men  of  all  fortunes;  the  openness  of  the  world 
by  navigation,  which  hath  disclosed  multitudes 
of  experiments,  and  a  mass  of  natural  history; 
the  leisure  wherewith  these  times  abound,  not 
employing  men  so  generally  in  civil  business  as 
the  states  of  Grsecia  did,  in  respect  of  their  po 
pularity,  and  the  state  of  Rome,  in  respect  of  the 
greatness  of  their  monarchy  ;  the  present  dispo 
sition  of  these  times  at  this  instant  to  peace  ;  the 
consumption  of  all  that  ever  can  be  said  in  con 
troversies  of  religion,  which  have  so  much  di 
verted  men  from  other  sciences  ;  and  the  insepa 
rable  property  of  time,  which  is  ever  more  and 
more  to  disclose  truth, — I  cannot  but  be  raised  to 
this  persuasion,  that  this  third  period  of  time  will 
far  surpass  that  of  the  Grecian  and  Roman  learn 
ing;  only  if  men  will  know  their  own  strength, 
and  their  own  weakness  both  ;  and  take,  one 
from  the  other,  light  of  invention,  and  not  fire  of 
contradiction ;  and  esteem  of  the  inquisition  of 
truth  as  of  an  enterprise,  and  not  as  of  a  quality 
or  ornament;  and  employ  wit  and  magnificence 
to  things  of  worth  and  excellency,  and  noi  >o 
things  vulgar  and  of  popular  estimation." 

Of  this  work  he  presented  copies  to  the 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Iv 


and  to  different  statesmen,  and,  to  secure  its  per 
petuity,  he  exerted  himself  with  his  friends  to 
procure  a  translation  of  it  into  Latin,  which,  in  the 
decline  of  his  life,  he  accomplished. 

As  a  philosopher,  Bacon,  who  beheld  all  things 
from  a  cliff,  thus  viewed  the  intellectual  globe, 
dilating  his  sight  to  survey  the  whole  of  science, 
and  contracting  it  so  that  the  minutest  object  could 
not  escape  him. 

Sweet  as  such  speculations  were  to  such  a 
mind:  pleasing  as  the  labour  must  have  been  in 
surmounting  the  steeps  :  delightful  to  tarry  upon 
them,  and  painful  to  quit  them,  he  did  not  suffer 
contemplation  to  absorb  his  mind;  but,  as  a  states 
man,  he  was  ever  in  action,  ever  advancing  the 
welfare  of  his  country.  These  opposite  exertions 
were  the  necessary  result  of  his  peculiar  mind ; 
for,  as  knowledge  takes  away  vain  admiration ;  as 
no  man  marvels  at  the  play  of  puppets  who  has 
been  behind  the  curtain,  Bacon  could  not  have 
been  misled  by  the  baubles  by  which  common 
minds  are  delighted ;  and,  as  he  had  examined  the 
nature  of  all  pleasures,  and  felt  that  knowledge 
and  benevolence,  which  is  ever  in  its  train,  sur 
passed  them  all ;  the  chief  source  of  his  happiness, 
wherever  situated,  must  have  consisted  in  dimi 
nishing  evil  and  in  promoting  good. 

With  his  delicate  health  and  intense  love  of 
knowledge,  he  ought  in  prudence  to  have  shunned 
the  broad  way  and  the  green,  and  retreated  to  con 
templation;  but  it  was  his  favourite  opinion  that, 
"  in  this  theatre  of  man's  life,  God  and  angels 
only  should  be  lookers-on ;  that  contemplation  and 
action  ought  ever  to  be  united,  a  conjunction  like 
unto  that  of  the  two  highest  planets,  Saturn,  the 
planet  of  rest,  and  Jupiter,  the  planet  of  action." 

He  could  not,  thus  thinking,  but  engage  in 
active  life;  and,  so  engaged,  he  could  not  but  act 
in  obedience  to  the  passion  by  which  he  was  alone 
animated ;  by  exerting  himself  and  endeavouring 
to  excite  others  to  promote  the  public  good.  We 
find  him,  therefore,  labouring  as  a  statesman  and 
a  patriot  to  improve  the  condition  of  Ireland ;  to 
promote  the  union  of  England  and  Scotland ;  to 
correct  the  errors  which  had  crept  into  our  reli 
gious  establishments,  and  to  assist  in  the  amend 
ment  of  the  law ;  and,  not  content  with  the  fruits 
of  his  own  exertions,  calling  upon  all  classes  of 
society  to  co-operate  in  reform. 

To  professional  men  he  says,  "I  hold  that 
every  man  is  a  debtor  to  his  profession,  from  the 
which,  as  men  do  of  course  seek  to  receive  coun 
tenance  and  profit,  so  ought  they  to  endeavour 
themselves  by  way  of  amends,  to  be  a  help  and 
ornament."  And  he  admonishes  the  king,  that, 
"as  a  duty  to  himself,  to  the  people,  and  to  the 
King  of  kings,  he  ought  to  erect  temples,  tombs, 
palaces,  theatres,  bridges,  make  noble  roads,  cut 
canals,  grant  multitude  of  charters  and  liberties 
for  comfort  of  decayed  companies  and  corpora 
tions  ;  found  colleges  and  lectures  for  learning 


and  the  education  of  youth ;  institute  orders  and 
fraternities  for  nobility,  enterprise,  and  obedience; 
but,  above  all,  establish  good  laws  for  the  regula 
tion  of  the  kingdom,  and  as  an  example  to  the 
world." 

On  the  first  day  of  the  ensuing  year  he  thus 
presented,  as  a  new  year's  gift,  to  the  king,  a  dis 
course  touching  the  plantation  of  Ireland  :  "  I 
know  not  better  how  to  express  my  good  wishes 
of  a  new  year  to  your  majesty,  than  by  this  little 
book,  which  in  all  humbleness  I  send  you.  The 
style  is  a  style  of  business,  rather  than  curious  or 
elaborate.  And  herein  I  was  encouraged  by  my 
experience  of  your  majesty's  former  grace,  in 
•accepting  of  the  like  poor  field-fruits  touching  the 
union.  And  certainly  I  reckon  this  action  as  a 
second  brother  to  the  union.  For  I  assure  myself 
that  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  well  united, 
is  such  a  trefoil  as  no  prince  except  yourself,  who 
are  the  worthiest,  weareth  in  his  crown." 

In  this  discourse,  his  knowledge  of  the  mise 
ries  of  Ireland,  that  still  neglected  country,  and 
of  the  mode  of  preventing  them,  with  his  heartfelt 
anxiety  for  her  welfare,  appears  in  all  his  ardent 
endeavours,  by  all  the  power  he  possessed,  to  insure 
the  king's  exertions  for  "  this  desolate  and  neg 
lected  country,  blessed  with  almost  all  the  dow 
ries  of  nature,  with  rivers,  havens,  woods,  quar 
ries,  good  soil,  temperate  climate,  and  a  race  and 
generation  of  men,  valiant,  hard  and  active,  as  it 
is  not  easy  to  find  such  confluence  of  commodi 
ties,  if  the  hand  of  man  did  join  with  the  hand  of 
nature  ;  but  they  are  severed, — the  harp  of  Ireland 
is  not  strung  or  attuned  to  concord.  This  work, 
therefore,  of  all  others  most  memorable  and  ho 
nourable,  your  majesty  hath  now  in  hand  ;  spe 
cially,  if  your  majesty  join  the  harp  of  David,  in 
casting  out  the  evil  spirit  of  superstition,  with  the 
harp  of  Orpheus,  in  casting  out  desolation  and 
barbarism." 

His  exertions  respecting  the  union  of  England 
and  Scotland  were,  both  in  and  out  of  parliament, 
strenuous  and  unremitted.  He  spoke  whenever 
the  subject  was  agitated.  He  was  a  member  of 
every  committee  that  was  formed  to  carry  it  into  ef 
fect  :  he  prepared  the  certificate  of  the  commission 
ers  appointed  to  treat  of  the  union  :  and  he  was  se 
lected  to  report  the  result  of  a  conference  with  the 
Lords ;  until,  exhausted  by  fatigue,  he  was  com 
pelled  to  intercede  with  the  House  that  he  might 
je  assisted  by  the  co-operation  of  other  members 
n  the  discharge  of  these  arduous  duties ;  and,  it 
laving  been  decided  by  all  the  judges,  after  an 
able  argument  of  Bacon's,  that  all  persons  born 
n  Scotland  after  the  king's  commission  were  na 
tural  born  subjects,  he  laboured  in  parliament  to 
xtend  these  privileges  to  all  Scotland,  that  the 
rights  enjoyed  by  the  children  should  not  be  with 
leld  from  their  parents. 

The  journals  of  the  Commons  contain  an'-outline 
of  many  of  his  speeches,  of  which  one  upon  tho 


Ivi 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


union  of  laws,  and  another  upon  the  general  natu 
ralization  of  the  Scottish  nation  were  completed, 
and  have  been  preserved ;  and  are  powerful  evi 
dence  of  his  zeal  and  ability  in  this  good  cause, 
exerted  at  the  risk  of  the  popularity,  which,  by  his 
independent  conduct  in  parliament,  he  had  justly 
acquired.  But  he  did  not  confine  his  activity  to 
the  bar  or  to  the  House  of  Commons.  In  his  hours 
of  recreation  he  wrote  three  works  for  the  use 
of  the  king :  "  A  Discourse  upon  the  happy 
Union;"  "Considerations  on  the  same;"  and 
a  preparation  towards  "  the  union  of  these  two 
mighty  and  warlike  nations  under  one  sovereign 
and  monarchy,  and  between  whom  there  are 
no  mountains  or  races  of  hills,  no  seas  or  great 
rivers,  no  diversity  of  tongue  or  language,  that  hath 
created  or  provoked  this  ancient  and  too  long  con 
tinued  divorce." 

His  anxiety  to  assist  in  the  improvement  of  the 
church  appears  in  his  exertions  in  parliament,  and 
in  his  publications  in  his  times  of  recreation. 
When  assisting  in  the  improvement  of  our  civil 
establishment,  he  was  ever  mindful  that  our  coun 
try  ought  to  be  treated  as  our  parents,  with  mild 
ness  and  persuasion,  and  not  with  contestations ; 
and,  in  his  suggestions  for  the  improvement  of 
our  religious  establishments,  his  thoughts  have  a 
glory  around  them,  from  the  reverence  with  which 
he  always  approaches  this  sacred  subject,  and 
particularly  on  the  eve  of  times,  which  he  foresaw, 
when  voices  in  religion  were  to  be  numbered  and 
not  weighed,  and  when  his  daily  prayer  was, 
"  Remember,  O  Lord,  how  thy  servant  hath 
walked  before  thee  ;  remember  what  I  have  first 
sought,  and  what  hath  been  principal  in  my  in 
tentions.  I  have  loved  thy  assemblies  :  I  have 
mourned  for  the  division  of  the  church  :  I  have 
delighted  in  the  brightness  of  thy  sanctuary.  This 
vine,  which  thy  right-hand  hath  planted  in  this 
nation,  I  have  ever  prayed  unto  thee  that  it  might 
stretch  her  branches  to  the  seas  and  the  floods." 

His  publications  are  two :  the  one  entitled,  "An 
Advertisement,  touching  the  Controversies  of  the 
Church  of  England  ;"  the  other,  "Certain  Consi 
derations  touching  the  better  Pacification  and 
Edification  of  the  Church  of  England."  These 
tracts  abound  with  thought;  and, according  to  his 
usual  mode,  consist  of  an  extensive  survey  of  the 
whole  of  our  religious  establishment,  and  the  most 
minute  observations  of  all  its  parts,  even  to  the 
surplice  of  the  minister,  that  simple  pastoral  gar 
ment,  which,  with  the  crook  to  guide,  and  to  draw 
back  the  erring  flock,  beautiful  emblems  of  the 
good  shepherd,  are  still  retained  by  the  establish 
ed  church. 

His  tract  upon  church  controversies  contains  an 
outline  of  all  religious  disputes,  and  abounds  with 
observations  well  woj£hy  the  consideration  of 
ecclesiastical  control  ifeialists ;  who  will,  per- 
e,iance,  submit  to  be  Jmonished  by  Bacon  that, 
as  Christians,  they  should  contend,  not  as  the 


brier  with  the  thistle,  which  is  most  unprofitable, 
but  as  the  vine  with  the  olive,  which  bears  best 
fruit. 

The  considerations  touching  the  pacification  of 
the  church,  are  dedicated  to  the  king;  and,  after 
apologizing  for  his  interposition  as  a  layman  with 
ecclesiastical  matters,  and  describing  the  nature 
of  the  various  reformers,  and  the  objections  to  the 
reform  of  the  church,  he  examines  with  great  accu 
racy  the  government  of  bishops, — the  liturgy, — the 
ceremonies,  and  subscription, — a  preaching  minis 
try, — the  abuse  of  excommunications, — the  pro 
vision  for  sufficient  maintenance  in  the  church, 
and  non-residents,  and  pluralities,  of  which  he 
says:  "For  non-residence,  except  it  be  in  case 
of  necessary  absence,  it  seemeth  an  abuse,  drawn 
out  of  covetousness  and  sloth ;  for  that  men 
should  live  of  the  flock  that  they  do  not  feed,  or 
of  the  altar  at  which  they  do  not  serve,  is  a  thing 
that  can  hardly  receive  just  defence  ;  and  to  exer 
cise  the  office  of  a  pastor,  in  matter  of  the  word 
and  doctrine,  by  deputies,  is  a  thing  riot  war 
ranted."  And  he  thus  concludes:  "Thushavo 
I,  in  all  humbleness  and  sincerity  of  heart, 
to  the  best  of  my  understanding,  given  your  ma 
jesty  tribute  of  my  cares  and  cogitations  in  this 
holy  business,  so  highly  tending  to  God's  glory, 
your  majesty's  honour,  and  the  peace  and  welfare 
of  your  states  ;  insomuch  as  I  am  persuaded,  that 
the  papists  themselves  should  not  need  so  much 
the  severity  of  penal  laws,  if  the  sword  of  the  "pi- 
ritwere  better  edged,  by  strengthening  the  author 
ity,  and  suppressing  the  abuses  in  the  church." 

Early  in  this  year,  (1607,  ^Et.  47,)  an  event 
occurred  of  considerable  importance  to  his  worldly 
prospects  and  professional  tranquillity,  by  the  pro 
motion  of  Sir  Edward  Coke  from  the  office  of 
attorney-general  to  the  chief  justiceship  of  the 
common  pleas,  occasioning  a  vacancy  in  the  office 
of  solicitor-general,  which  Bacon  strenuously  ex 
erted  himself  to  obtain,  under  the  delusion,  that, 
by  increasing  his  practice,  he  should  be  enabled 
sooner  to  retire  into  contemplative  life.  He  ap 
plied  to  Lord  Salisbury,  to  the  lord  chancellor,, 
and  to  the  king,  by  whom,  on  the  25th  day  of 
June,  1G07,  he  was  appointed  solicitor,  to  the 
great  satisfaction  of  his  profession,  the  prospect 
of  worldly  emolument,  and  the  hope  of  profes 
sional  tranquillity,  by  a  removal  from  conflict  with 
the  coarse  mind  and  acrid  humour  of  Sir  Edward 
Coke,  rude  to  his  equals  and  insolent  to  the  un 
fortunate. 

Who  can  forget  his  treatment  of  Bacon  1  who, 
when  reviled,  reviled  not  again, but  in  due  season 
thus  expostulated  with  him : 

Mr.  Attorney, — I  thought  best,  once  for  all,  to 
lei  you  know  in  plainness  what  I  find  of  you,  and 
what  you  shall  find  of  me.  You  take  to  yourself  a 
liberty  to  disgrace  and  disable  my  law,  my  expe 
rience,  m^  discretion.  What  it  pleaseth  you  I 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ivii 


pray  think  of  me;  I  am  one  that  knows  both 
mine  own  wants  and  other  men's  :  and  it  may  be, 
perchance,  that  mine  mend,  others  stand  at  a  stay. 
And  surely,  I  may  not  endure  in  public  place  to 
he  wronged,  without  repelling  the  same  to  my 
best  advantage  to  right  myself.  You  are  great, 
and  therefore  have  the  more  enviers,  which  would 
he  glad  to  have  you  paid  at  another's  cost.  Since 
the  time  I  missed  the  solicitor's  place,  the 
rather,  I  think,  by  your  means,  I  cannot  expect 
that  you  and  I  shall  ever  serve  as  attorney  and 
solicitor  together,  but  either  to  serve  with  an 
other,  upon  your  remove,  or  to  step  into  some 
other  course ;  so  as  I  am  more  free  than  ever  I 
was  from  any  occasion  of  unworthy  conforming 
myself  to  you  more  than  general  good  manners, 
or  your  particular  good  usage  shall  provoke  :  and, 
if  you  had  not  been  short-sighted  in  your  own  for 
tune,  as  I  think,  you  might  have  had  more  use 
of  me  ;  but  that  tide  is  passed.  I  write  not  this, 
to  show  my  friends  what  a  brave  letter  I  have 
written  to  Mr.  Attorney;  I  have  none  of  those 
humours,  but  that  I  have  written  is  to  a  good  end  : 
that  is,  to  the  more  decent  carriage  of  my  master's 
service,  and  to  our  particular  better  understanding 
one  of  another.  This  letter,  if  it  shall  be  answer 
ed  by  you  in  deed  and  not  in  word,  I  suppose  it 
will  not  be  worse  for  us  both ;  else  it  is  but  a  few 
lines  lost,  which  for  a  much  smaller  matter  I 
would  have  adventured.  So  this  being  to  your 
self,  I  for  my  part  rest,  &c. 

Of  Coke's  bitter  spirit  there  are  so  many  pain 
ful  instances,  that  unless  Bacon  had  to  complain 
of  unfairness  in  other  matters,  the  acrimony 
which  overflowed  upon  all,  could  not  be  consi 
dered  altogether  the  effect  of  personal  rivalry.  It 
would  have  been  .well  had  his  morbid  feelings 
been  confined  to  his  professional  opponents ;  but, 
unmindful  of  the  old  maxim,  "Let  him  take  heed 
how  he  strikes,  who  strikes  with  a  dead  hand,"  his 
rancorous  abuse  extended  to  prisoners  on  trials 
for  their  lives,  for  which  he  was  severely  cen 
sured  by  Bacon,  who  told  him  that  in  his  plead 
ings  he  was  ever  wont  to  insult  over  misery. 

Who  can  forget  Coke's  treatment  of  Raleigh, 
entitled  as  he  was  by  station  and  attainments  to 
the  civil  observances  of  a  gentleman,  and,  by  long 
imprisonment  and  subsequent  misfortunes,  to  the 
commiseration  of  all  men.  It  is  true  that  there 
were  some  persons  present  at  this  trial,  who  re 
membered  that  Raleigh  and  Cobham  had  stood 
only  a  few  years  before,  with  an  open  satisfac 
tion,  to  witness  the  death  of  Essex,  against 
whom  they  had  secretly  conspired  ;  but  even  the 
sonse  of  retributive  justice,  though  it  might 
deaden  their  pity,  could  not  lessen  their  disgust 
at  the  cruel  and  vulgar  invectives  of  Coke,  whose 
knowledge  neither  expanded  his  intellect,  nor  ci 
vilized  his  manners.  Fierce  with  dark  keeping, 
his  mind  resembled  some  of  those  gloomy  struc- 

VOL.  L— (8) 


tures  where  records  and  muniments  are  piled  to 
the  exclusion  of  all  higher  or  nobler  matters. 
For  genius  he  had  no  love  :  with  philosophy  he 
had  no  sympathy. 

Upon  the  trial  of  Raleigh,  Coke,  after  de 
nouncing  him  as  an  atheist  and  a  traitor,  re 
proached  him,  with  the  usual  antipathy  of  a  con 
tracted  mind  to  superior  intellect,  for  beino-  a 
genius  and  man  of  wit. 

When  Bacon  presented  him  with  a  copy  of  his 
Novum  Organum,  he  wrote  with  his  own  hand,  at 
the  top  of  the  title-page,  Edw.  C.  ex  dono  aucturis. 

Auctori  Consilium. 

Instaurare  paras  veterum  documenta  sophorum: 
Iiistaura  Leges  Justitiamq  ;  prius. 

And  over  the  device  of  the  ship  passing  between 
Hercules's  pillars,  he  wrote  the  two  following 
verses  : 

"  It  deservetli  not  to  be  read  in  schools, 
But  to  be  freighted  in  the  Ship  of  Fooles." 

From  professional  altercations  with  this  con 
tracted  mind,  Bacon  was  rescued  by  his  promo 
tion. 

Another  and  more  important  advantage  attend 
ant  upon  his  appointment  was  the  opportunity 
which  it  afforded  him  to  assist  in  the  encourage 
ment  of  merit  and  in  legal  reform.  Detur  digniori 
was  his  constant  maxim  and  constant  practice. 
He  knew  and  taught  that  power  to  do  good  is  the 
true  and  lawful  end  of  aspiring;  and  when  ap 
pointed  solicitor,  he  acted  in  obedience  to  his 
doctrines,  encouraging  merit,  and  endeavouring 
to  discharge  the  duty  which  he  owed  to  his  pro 
fession  by  exertions  and  works  for  the  improve 
ment  of  the  law. 

In  the  midst  of  arduous  affairs  of  state  and  pro 
fessional  duties,  he  went  right  onward  with  his 
great  work,  conferring  with  various  scholars  and 
philosophers,  from  whose  communications  there 
was  any  probability  of  his  deriving  advantage. 

In  the  progress  of  the  Novum  Organum  he  had, 
at  different  periods,  even  from  his  youth,  arranged 
his  thoughts  upon  detached  parts  of  the  work, 
and  collected  them  under  different  titles :  "Tem- 
poris  partus  maximus,"  "  Filum  Labyrinthi," 
"  Cogitata  et  Visa,  &c. 

He  now  sent  to  the  Bishop  of  Ely  the  "  Cogi 
tata  et  Visa."  He  communicated  also  on  the 
subject  with  his  friend,  Mr.  Mathew,  who,  hav 
ing  cautioned  him  that  he  might  excite  the  pre 
judices  of  the  churchmen,  spoke  freely,  yet  with 
approbation  of  the  work.  He  also  sent  the  tract 
to  Sir  Thomas  Bodley,  who  received  it  with  all 
the  attachment  of  a  collegian  to  Aristotle,  and  the 
schoolmen  and  university  studies,  and,  with  the 
freedom  of  a  friend,  respectfully  imparted  to 
Bacon  that  his  plan  was  visionary. 

In  the  year  1609,  as  a  relaxation  from  abstruse 
speculations,  he  published  in  Latin  his  interesting 
little  work,  "  De  Sapientia  Veterum,"  of  which 
he  sent  a  copy  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Mathew,  saying. 


Iviii 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


"  My  great  work  goeth  forward,  and  after  my 
manner  I  alter  ever  when  I  add." 

This  treatise  is  a  species  of  parabolical  poetry, 
explained  in  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  and 
expanded  by  an  insertion  in  the  treatise  De  Aug- 
mentis  Scientiarum  of  three  of  the  Fables.  "  One 
use  of  parabolical  poesy  consists,"  he  says,  "  in 
withdrawing  from  common  sight  those  things  the 
dignity  whereof  deserves  to  be  retired,  as  the 
secrets  and  mysteries  of  religion,  policy,  and  phi 
losophy,  which  are  therefore  veiled  and  invested 
in  fables  and  parables,  and,  next  to  sacred  writ, 
are  the  most  ancient  of  all  writings  ;  for  adopted, 
not  excogitated  by  the  reciters,  they  seem  to  be 
like  a  thin  rarefied  air,  which,  from  the  traditions 
of  more  ancient  nations,  fell  into  the  flutes  of  the 
Grecians." 

This  tract  seems,  in  former  times,  to  have  been 
much  valued,  for  the  same  reason,  perhaps,  which 
Bacon  assigns  for  the  currency  of  the  Essays  ; 
"  because  they  are  like  the  late  new  halfpence, 
where  the  pieces  are  small,  but  the  silver  is  good." 

The  fables,  abounding  with  a  union  of  deep 
thought  and  poetic  beauty,  are  thirty-one  in  num 
ber,  of  which  a  part  of  "The  Sirens,  or  Plea 
sures,"  may  be  selected  as  a  specimen. 

In  this  fable  he  explains  the  common  but  er 
roneous  supposition,  that  knowledge  and  the  con 
formity  of  the  will,  knowing  and  acting,  are  con 
vertible  terms.  Of  this  error  he,  in  his  essay  of 
"  Custom  and  Education,"  admonishes  his  read 
ers,  by  saying,  "  Men's  thoughts  are  much  ac 
cording  to  their  inclination ;  their  discourse  and 
speeches  according  to  their  learning  and  infused 
opinions,  but  their  deeds  are  after  as  they  have 
been  accustomed.  ./Esop's  damsel,  transformed 
from  a  cat  to  a  woman,  sat  very  demurely  at  the 
board-end  till  a  mouse  ran  before  her."  In  the 
fable  of  the  Sirens  he  exhibits  the  same  truth, 
saying,  "  The  habitation  of  the  Sirens  was  in 
certain  pleasant  islands,  from  whence,  as  soon  as 
out  of  their  watch-tower  they  discovered  any  ships 
approaching,  with  their  sweet  tunes  they  would 
first  entice  and  stay  them,  and,  having  them  in 
their  power,  would  destroy  them  ;  and,  so  great 
were  the  mischiefs  they  did,  that  these  isles  of 
the  Sirens,  even  as  far  off  as  man  can  ken  them, 
appeared  all  over  white  with  the  bones  of  un- 
buried  carcasses:  by  which  it  is  signified  that 
albeit  the  examples  of  afflictions  be  manifest  and 
eminent,  yet  they  do  not  sufficiently  deter  us  from 
the  wicked  enticements  of  pleasure." 


CHAPTER  II. 

FROM  THE  PUBLICATION  OF  THE  WISDOM  OF  THE 
ANCIENTS  TO  THE  PUBLICATION  OF  THE  NOVUM 
ORGANUM. 

IN  consequence  of  the  limitation,  in  the  court 
of  King's  Bench,  of  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Mar- 


shalsea  court  to  the  officers  of  the  king's  house 
hold,  a  new  court  of  record  was  erected  by  letters 
patent,  styled  "  Curia  virgi  palatii  summi  Regis," 
to  extend  the  jurisdiction;  and  the  judges  nomi 
nated  by  the  letters  patent  were  Sir  Francis 
Bacon,  solicitor-general,  and  Sir  James  Vava 
sour,  then  marshal  of  the  household.  In  this 
office  he  delivered  a  learned  and  methodical  charge 
to  a  jury  upon  a  commission  of  oyer  and  termi- 
ner,  in  which  he  availed  himself  of  an  opportu 
nity  to  protest  against  the  abuse  of  capital  pu 
nishment.  "  For  life,"  he  says,  "  I  must  say  unto 
you,  in  general,  that  it  is  grown  too  cheap  in 
these  times  ;  it  is  set  at  the  price  of  words,  and 
every  petty  scorn  and  disgrace  can  have  no  other 
reparation  ;  nay,  so  many  men's  lives  are  taken 
away  with  impunity,  that  the  very  life  of  the  law, 
the  execution,  is  almost  taken  away." 

When  solicitor  he  argued  in  the  case  of  Sut- 
ton's  Hospital,  or  the  Charter-House,  against  the 
legality  of  the  foundation,  and,  fortunately  for  the 
advancement  of  charity  and  of  knowledge,  he  ar 
gued  without  success,  as  its  validity  was  confirm 
ed  ;  and  in  1G11  this  noble  institution  was  opened, 
to  the  honour  of  its  munificent  founder,  who  pre 
ferred  the  consciousness  of  doing  good  to  the 
empty  honours  which  were  offered  to  divert  him 
from  his  course.  It  seems,  however,  that  Bacon's 
objections  to  the  charity  were  not  confined  to  his 
argument  at  the  bar,  but  were  the  expression  of 
his  judgment,  as  he  afterwards  addressed  a  letter 
of  advice  to  the  king,  pointing  out  many  imagi 
nary  or  real  defects  of  the  project,  in  which  he 
says,  "  I  wish  Mr.  Sutton's  intentions  were 
exalted  a  degree;  and  that  which  he  meant  for 
teachers  of  children,  your  majesty  should  make 
for  teachers  of  men;  wherein  it  hath  been  my 
ancient  opinion  and  observation,  that  in  the  uni 
versities  of  this  realm,  which  I  take  to  be  of  the 
best  endowed  universities  of  Europe,  there  is  no 
thing  more  wanting  towards  the  flourishing  state 
of  learning  than  the  honourable  and  plentiful 
salaries  of  readers  in  arts  and  professions ; 
for,  if  you  will  have  sciences  flourish,  you  must 
observe  David's  military  law,  which  was,  '  that 
those  which  stayed  with  the  carriage  should  have 
equal  part  with  those  that  were  in  the  action.'  " 

In  the  year  1612,  he  published  a  new  edition 
of  his  Essays,  enlarged  and  enlivened  by  illustra 
tions  and  imagery,  which,  upon  the  sudden  death 
of  Prince  Henry,  to  whom  it  was  intended  to  be 
dedicated,  he  inscribed  to  his  brother. 

In  this  year  he,  as  solicitor-general,  appeared 
on  behalf  of  the  crown,  upon  the  prosecution  of 
the  Lord  Sanquhar,  a  Scottish  nobleman,  for  mur 
der;  and  his  speech,  which  has  been  preserved, 
is  a  specimen  of  the  mildness  ever  attendant  upon 
knowledge.  After  having  clearly  stated  the  case, 
he  thus  concludes  ;  "  I  will  conclude  toward  you, 
my  lord,  that  though  5Tour  offence  hath  been 
great,  yet  your  confession  hath  been  free,  and 


LIFE  OF  BACON 


lix 


your  behaviour  and  speech  full  of  discretion  ;  and 
this  shows,  that  though  you  could  not  resist  the 
tempter,  yet  you  bear  a  Christian  and  generous 
mind,  answerable  to  the  noble  family  of  which 
you  are  descended." 

During  the  time  he  was  solicitor  he  composed, 
as  it  seems,  his  "  Confession  of  Faith." 

Bacon  as  solicitor  naturally  looked  forward  to 
the  office  of  attorney-general,  to  which  he  suc 
ceeded  on  the  27th  of  October,  upon  the  promotion 
of  Sir  Henry  Hob-art  to  the  chief  justiceship  of  the 
common  pleas.  Never  was  man  more  qualified 
for  the  office  of  attorney-general  than  Bacon. 
With  great  general  knowledge,  ever  tending  to 
humanize  and  generate  a  love  of  improvement; 
with  great  insight  into  the  principles  of  politics 
and  of  universal  justice,  and  such  worldly  expe 
rience  as  to  enable  him  to  apply  his  knowledge  to 
the  times  in  which  he  lived.  "  Non  in  republica 
Plato nis  ;  sed  tanquam  in  faece  Romuli;"  with 
long  unwearied  professional  exertion  in  the  law 
of  England,  publications  upon  existing  parts  of 
the  law,  and  efforts  to  improve  it,  he  entered  upon 
the  duties  of  his  office  with  the  well-founded  hope 
in  the  profession,  that  he  would  be  an  honour  to 
his  name  and  his  country,  and  without  any  fear 
that  he  would  be  injured  by  the  dangerous  au 
thority  with  which  he  was  intrusted.  Although 
power  has,  upon  ordinary  minds,  a  tendency  to 
shape  and  deprave  the  possessor,  upon  intelli 
gence  it  tends  more  to  humble  than  to  elevate. 
When  Cromwell,  indignant  that  Sir  Matthew 
Hale  had  dismissed  a  jury  because  he  was  con 
vinced  that  it  had  been  partially  selected,  said  to 
this  venerable  magistrate,  "You  are  not  fit  to  be 
a  judge,"  Sir  Matthew  answered,  "It  is  very 
true."  When  Alexander  received  letters  out  of 
Greece  of  some  fights  and  services  there,  which 
were  commonly  for  a  passage  or  a  fort,  or  some 
walled  town  at  the  most,  he  said,  "  It  seemed  to 
him,  that  he  was  advertised  of  the  battle  of  the 
frogs  and  the  mice,  that  the  old  tales  went  of; 
so  certainly,  if  a  man  meditate  much  upon  the 
universal  frame  of  nature,  the  earth  with  men 
upon  it,  the  divineness  of  souls  except,  will  riot 
seem  much  other  than  an  ant-hill,  where  as  some 
ants  carry  corn,  and  some  carry  their  young,  and 
some  go  empty,  and  all  to  and  fro  a  little  heap  of 
dust." 

With  the  duties  of  the  office  he  was  well  ac 
quainted.  As  a  politician  he  never  omitted  an 
opportunity  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  society, 
and  exerted  himself  in  all  the  usual  House  of 
Commons  questions:  thus  dilating  and  contract 
ing  his  sight,  and  too  readily  giving  up  to  party 
what  was  meant  for  mankind.  As  public  prose 
cutor,  he  did  not  suffer  the  arm  of  justice  to  be 
weakened  either  by  improper  lenity  or  severity  at 
variance  with  public  feeling.  Knowing  that  the 
efficacy  of  criminal  legislation  consists  in  duly 
poising  the  powers  of  law,  religion,  and  morals ; 


and  being  aware  of  the  common  erroneous  sup 
position,  that,  by  an  increase  in  the  quantity  of 
any  agent,  its  beneficial  effects  are  also  increased, 
he  warned  the  community  that  the  acerbity  of  a 
law  ever  deadened  the  execution,  by  associating 
compassion  with  guilt,  and  confounding  the  gra 
dation  of  crime;  and  that  the  sentiment  of  justice 
in  the  public  mind  is  as  much  or  more  injured  by 
a  law  which  outrages  public  feeling,  as  by  a 
law  which  falls  short  or  disappoints  the  just  in 
dignation  of  the  community. 

But,  not  confining  his  professional  exertions 
to  the  discharge  of  the  common  duties  of  a  public 
prosecutor,  he  availed  himself  of  his  situation  to 
advance  justice  and  humanity,  and  composed  a 
work  for  compiling  and  amending  the  laws  of 
England,  which  he  dedicated  to  the  king.  "  Your 
majesty,"  he  says,  "  of  your  favour  having  made 
me  privy  councillor,  and  continuing  me  in  the 
place  of  your  attorney-general,  I  take  it  to  be  my 
duty  not  only  to  speed  your  commandments  and 
the  business  of  my  place,  but  to  meditate  and  to 
excogitate  of  myself,  wherein  I  may  best,  by  my 
travails,  derive  your  virtues  to  the  good  of  your 
people,  and  return  their  thanks  and  increase  of 
love  to  you  again.  And  after  I  had  thought  of 
many  things,  I  could  find,  in  my  judgment,  none 
more  proper  for  your  majesty  as  a  master,  nor  for 
me  as  a  workman,  than  the  reducing  and  recom 
piling  the  laws  of  England." 

In  this  tract,  having  traced  the  exertions  of 
different  legislators  from  Moses  to  Augustus,  he 
says,  "Ccesar  si  ab  eo  quaerereter  quid  egisset 
in  toga,  leges  se  respondisset  multas  et  praeclarus 
tulisse  ;"  and  his  nephew  Augustus  did  tread  the 
same  steps  but  with  deeper  print,  because  of  his 
long  reign  in  peace,  whereof  one  of  the  poets  of 
the  time  saith, 

"  Pace  data  terris  animum  ad  civilia  vertit 
Jura  suum,  legesque  tulit  justissimus  auctor." 

From  July,  1610,  until  this  period,  there  had 
not  been  any  parliament  sitting;  and  the  king, 
unable  to  procure  the  usual  supplies,  had  recourse, 
by  the  advice  of  Lord  Salisbury,  to  modes  injuri 
ous  to  himself,  and  not  warranted  by  the  constitu 
tion.  Bacon,  foreseeing  the  evils  which  must 
result  from  these  expedients,  implored  the  king 
to  discontinue  them,  and  to  summon  a  parlia 
ment. 

A  parliament  was  accordingly  summoned,  and 
met  in  April,  1614,  when  the  question  whether 
the  attorney-general  was  eligible  to  sit  in  the 
House  was  immediately  agitated  ;  and,  after  de 
bate  and  search  of  precedents,  it  was  resolved, 
that,  by  reason  of  his  office,  he  ought  not  to  sit  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  as  he  was  an  attendant  on 
the  lords :  but  it  was  resolved  that  the  present 
attorney-general  shall  for  this  parliament  remain 
in  the  House,  although  this  privilege  shall  not 
extend  to  any  future  attorney-general. 

Upon  his  entrance  on  the  discharge  of  his  legal 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


duties,  an  opportunity  to  eradicate  error  accident 
ally  presented  itself.  Amongst  the  criminal  in 
formations  filed  in  the  Star  Chamber  by  his  pre 
decessor,  he  found  a  charge  against  two  obscure 
persons  for  the  crime  of  duelling.  Of  this  oppor 
tunity  he  instantly  availed  himself,  to  expose  the 
nature  of  these  false  imaginations  of  honour,  bv 
which,  in  defiance  of  virtue,  disregard  of  the  law, 
and  contempt  of  religion,  vice  and  ignorance  raise 
themselves  in  the  world  upon  the  reputation  of 
courage ;  and  high-minded  youth,  full  of  toward- 
ness  and  hope,  such  as  the  poets  call  "  auroras 
tilii,"  sons  of  the  morning,  are  deluded  by  this 
fond  disguise  and  puppetry  of  honour. 

The  king's  great  object  in  summoning  a  parlia 
ment  was  the  hope  to  obtain  supplies;  a  hope 
which  was  totally  defeated  by  a  rumour  that  seve 
ral  persons,  attached  to  the  king,  had  entered  into 
a  confederacy,  and  had  undertaken  to  secure  a 
majority  to  enable  him  to  control  the  house.  To 
pacify  the  heat,  Bacon  made  a  powerful  speech, 
in  which  he  ridicules  the  supposition  that  any  man 
can  have  embarked  in  such  a  wild  undertaking  as 
to  control  the  Commons  of  England:  to  make  a 
policy  of  insurance  as  to  what  ship  shall  come 
safe  home  into  the  harbour  in  these  troubled  seas  ; 
to  find  a  new  passage  for  the  king's  business,  by 
a  new  and  unknown  point  of  the  compass:  to 
build  forts  to  intimidate  the  house,  unmindful 
that  the  only  forts  by  which  the  king  of  England 
can  command,  is  the  fort  of  affection  moving  the 
hearts,  and  of  reason  the  understandings  of  his 
people.  He  then  implores  the  house  not  to  Listen 
to  these  idle  rumours,  existing  only  in  the  imagi 
nation  of  some  deluded  enthusiast,  who,  like  the 
fly  upon  the  chariot  wheel,  says,  "What  a  dust 
do  I  raise !  and,  being  without  foundation  or  any 
avowed  author,  are  like  the  birds  of  paradise, 
without  feet,  and  never  lighting  upon  any  place, 
but  carried  away  by  the  wind  whither  it  listeth. 
Let  us  then,"  he  adds,  "  instead  of  yielding  to 
these  senseless  reports,  deliberate  upon  the  peri 
lous  situation  in  which  the  government  is  placed  : 
and,  remembering  the  parable  of  Jotharn,  in  the 
case  of  the  trees  of  the  forest,  that  when  question 
was,  whether  the  vine  should  reign  over  them  1 
that  might  not  be  ; — and  whether  the  olive  should 
reign  over  them'?  that  might  not  be,  let  us  con 
sider  whether  wre  have  not  accepted  the  bramble 
to  reign  over  us.  For  it  seems  that  the  good  vine 
of  the  king's  graces,  that  is  not  so  much  in  es 
teem  :  and  the  good  oil,  whereby  we  should  re 
lieve  the  wants  of  the  estate  and  crown,  is  laid 
aside ;  and  this  bramble  of  contention  and  emula 
tion,  this  must  reign  and  rule  amongst  us." 

Having  examined  and  exposed  all  the  argu 
ments,  he  CDncluded  by  saying ;  "Thus  I  have 
told  you  rny  opinion.  I  know  it  had  been  more 
safe  and  politic  to  have  been  silent ;  but  it  is 
more  honest  and  loving  to  speak.  When  a  man 
6p?aketb,  he  may  be  wounded  by  others  ;  but  as 


he  holds  his  peace  from  good  things,  he  wounds 
himself." 

The  exertions  of  Bacon  and  of  the  king's  friends 
being,  however,  of  no  avail,  the  king,  seeing  no 
hope  of  assistance,  in  anger  dissolved  the  parlia 
ment,  and  committed  several  of  the  members  who 
had  spoken  freely  of  his  measures. 

This  violence,  instead  of  allaying,  increased 
the  ferment  in  the  nation;  (June,  1634;)  and, 
unable  to  obtain  a  supply  from  parliament,  and 
being  extremely  distressed  for  money,  several 
of  the  nobility  and  clergy  in  and  about  London, 
made  presents  to  the  king;  and  letters  wrere 
written  to  the  sheriffs  and  justices  in  the  different 
counties,  and  to  magistrates  of  several  corpora 
tions,  informing  them  what  had  been  done  in  the 
metropolis,  and  how  acceptable  and  seasonable 
similar  bounty  would  be  from  the  country. 

Amongst  others,  a  letter  was  sent  to  the  mayor 
of  Maryborough  in  Wiltshire,  where  Mr.  Oliver 
St.  John,  a  gentleman  of  an  ancient  family,  was 
then  residing,  who  wrote  to  the  mayor  on  the 
llth  of  October,  1G14,  representing  to  him  that 
this  benevolence  was  against  law,  reason,  and 
religion,  and  insinuating  that  the  king,  by  promot 
ing  it,  had  violated  his  coronation  oath,  and  that, 
by  such  means  as  these,  King  Richard  the  Second 
had  given  an  opportunity  to  Henry  the  Fourth  to 
deprive  him  of  his  crown  ;  desiring,  if  he  thought 
fit,  that  his  sentiments  should  be  communicated 
to  the  justices  who  were  to  meet  respecting  the 
benevolence. 

For  this  letter,  Mr.  St.  John  was  tried  in  the 
Star  Chamber  on  the  15th  of  April,  1615;  when, 
the  attorney-general  appearing,  of  course,  as 
counsel  for  the  crown,  the  defendant  was  fined 
£5000,  imprisoned  during  the  king's  pleasure, 
and  ordered  to  make  submission  in  writing. 

So  deeply  were  the  judges  impressed  with  the 
enormity  of  this  offence,  that  some  of  the  court 
thought  the  crime  of  a  higher  nature  than  a  con 
tempt  ;  but  they  all  agreed  that  the  benevolence 
was  not  restrained  by  any  statute ;  and  the  lord 
hancellor,  who  was  then,  as  he  supposed,  on 
his  death-bed,  more  than  once  expressed  his  anx- 
:ety  that  his  passing  sentence  upon  Mr.  St.  John 
night  be  his  last  act  of  judicial  duty. 

Such  was  the  state  of  the  law  and  of  the 
opinion  of  justice  which  at  that  time  prevailed  ! 
The  dissatisfaction  which  existed  in  the  com 
munity,  at  the  state  of  the  government,  now 
manifested  itself  in  various  modes,  and  was,  ac 
cording  to  the  usual  efforts  of  power,  attempted 
to  be  repressed  by  criminal  prosecutions.  Amongst 
others,  the  attorney-general  was  employed  in  the 
prosecution  for  high  treason  of  a  Mr.  Peacham, 
a  clergyman  between  sixty  and  seventy  years  of 
age;  of  Mr.  Owen,  of  Godstow  in  Oxfordshire,  a 
gentleman  of  property  and  respectability  ;  and  of 
W7illiam  Talbot,  an  Irish  barrister,  for  maintain- 
ng,  in  different  modes,  that,  if  the  king  were 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixi 


excommunicated  and  deprived  by  the  pope,  it  was 
lawful  for  any  person  to  kill  him. 

The  nrosecution  against  Peacham  was  for  se 
veral  treasonable  passages  in  a  sermon,  found  in 
his  study,  but  never  preached,  and  never  intend 
ed  to  be  preached. 

Doubts  being  entertained  both  of  the  fact  with 
respect  to  the  intention  to  preach,  and  of  the  law, 
supposing  the  intention  to  have  existed,  recourse 
was  had  to  expedients  from  which,  in  these  en 
lightened  times,  we  recoil  with  horror. 

To  discover  the  fact,  this  old  clergyman  was 
put  upon  the  rack,  and  was  examined  "before 
torture,  in  torture,  between  torture,  and  after  tor 
ture,"  but  no  confession  was  extorted,  which  was 
instantly  communicated  by  Bacon  to  the  king. 

To  be  certain  of  the  law,  the  king  resolved  to 
obtain  the  opinions  of  the  judges  before  the  pro 
secution  was  commenced.  For  this  purpose,  the 
attorney- general  was  employed  to  confer  with  Sir 
Edward  Coke,  Mr.  Sergeant  Montague  to  speak 
with  Justice  Crooke,  Mr.  Sergeant  Crew  with 
Justice  Houghton,  and  Mr.  Solicitor  with  Justice 
Dodderidge,  who  were  instructed  by  Bacon  that 
they  should  presently  speak  with  the  three  judges, 
before  he  could  see  Coke  ;  and  that  they  should 
not  in  any  case  make  any  doubt  to  the  judges,  as 
if  they  mistrusted  they  would  not  deliver  any 
opinion  apart,  but  speak  resolutely  to  them,  and 
only  make  their  coming  to  be,  to  know  what  time 
they  would  appoint  to  be  attended  with  the  pa 
pers.  The  three  judges  very  readily  gave  their 
opinions  ;  but  with  Sir  Edward  Coke  the  task 
was  not  easy :  for  his  high  and  independent  spirit 
refused  to  submit  to  these  private  conferences, 
contrary,  as  he  said,  to  the  custom  of  the  realm, 
which  requires  the  judges  not  to  give  opinion  by 
fractions,  but  entirely  and  upon  conference  ;  and 
that  this  auricular  taking  of  opinions,  single  and 
apart,  was  new  and  dangerous. 

The  answer  to  this  resistance,  Eicon  thus 
relates  in  a  letter  to  the  king :  "  I  replied  in  civil 
arid  plain  terms,  that  I  wished  his  lordship,  in  my 
love  to  him,  to  think  better  of  it;  for  that  this, 
that  his  lordship  was  pleased  to  put  into  great 
words,  seemed  to  me  and  my  fellows,  when  we 
spake  of  it  amongst  ourselves,  a  reasonable  and 
familiar  matter,  for  a  king  to  consult  with  his 
judges,  either  assembled  or  selected,  or  one  by 
one.  I  added,  that  judges  sometimes  might  make 
a  suit  to  be  spared  for  their  opinion  till  they  had 
spoken  with  their  brethren;  but  if  the  king  upon 
his  own  princely  judgment,  for  reason  of  estate, 
should  think  it  fit  to  have  it  otherwise,  and 
should  so  demand  it,  there  was  no  declining; 
nay,  that  it  touched  upon  a  violation  of  their  oath, 
which  was  to  counsel  the  king  without  dis 
tinction,  whether  it  were  jointly  or  severally. 
Thereupon  I  put  him  the  case  of  the  privy  council, 
as  if  your  majesty  should  be  pleased  to  command 
any  of  them  to  deliver  their  opinion  apart  and  in 


private ;  whether  it  were  a  good  answer  to  deny 
it,  otherwise  than  if  it  were  propounded  at  the 
table.  To  this  he  said,  that  the  cases  were  not 
alike,  because  this  concerned  life.  To  which  I 
replied,  that  questions  of  estate  might  concern 
thousands  of  lives ;  and  many  things  more  pre 
cious  than  the  life  of  a  particular;  as  war  and 
peace,  and  the  like." 

By  this  reasoning  Coke's  scruples  were,  after  a 
struggle,  removed,  and  he  concurred  with  his  bre 
thren  in  obedience  to  the  commands  of  the  king. 

From  the  progress  which  knowledge  has  made, 
during  the  last  two  centuries,  in  the  science  of 
justice  and  its  administration,  mitigating  severity, 
abolishing  injurious  restraints  upon  commerce,  and 
upon  civil  arid  religious  liberty,  and  preserving  the 
judicial  mind  free,  almost,  from  the  possibility  of 
influence,  we  may,  without  caution,  feel  disposed 
to  censure  the  profession  of  the  law  at  that  day 
for  practices  so  different  from  our  own.  Passing 
out  of  darkness  into  light,  we  may  for  a  moment  be 
dazzled,  and  forget  the  ignorance  from  which  we 
have  emerged  ;  an  evil  attendant  upon  the  pro 
gress  of  learning,  which  did  not  escape  the  ob 
servation  of  Bacon,  by  whom  we  are  admonished, 
that  "if  knowledge,  as  it  advances,  is  taken  with 
out  its  true  corrective,  it  ever  hath  some  nature  of 
venom  or  malignity,  and  some  effects  of  that 
venom,  which  is  ventosity  or  swelling.  This 
corrective  spice,  the  mixture  whereof  maketh 
knowledge  so  sovereign,  is  charity;  of  which 
the  apostle  saith,  '  If  I  spake  with  the  tongues 
of  men  and  angels,  and  had  not  charity,  it  were 
but  as  a  tinkling  cymbal.'  " 

For  having  thus  acted  in  obedience  to  the  king's 
commands,  by  a  compliance  with  error  sanctioned 
by  the  practice  of  the  profession,  Bacon  has, 
without  due  consideration,  been  censured  by  a 
most  upright,  intelligent  judge  of  modern  times, 
who  has  thus  indirectly  accused  the  bar  as  venal, 
and  the  bench  as  perjured. 

To  this  excellent  man  posterity  has  been  more 
just;  we  do  not  brand  Judge  Foster  with  the  im 
putation  of  cruelty,  for  having  passed  the  barba 
rous  and  disgraceful  sentence  upon  persons  con 
victed  of  high  treason,  which  was  not  abolished 
till  the  reign  of  George  the  Fourth ;  nor  do  we  cen 
sure  the  judges  in  and  before  the  time  of  Eliza 
beth  for  not  having  resisted  the  infliction  of  tor 
ture,  sanctioned  by  the  law,  which  was  founded 
upon  the  erroneous  principle  that  men  will  speak 
truth,  when  under  the  influence  of  a  passion  more 
powerful  than  the  love  of  truth ;  nor  shall  we 
be  censured,  in  future  times,  for  refusing,  in  ex 
cessive  obedience  to  this  principle,  to  admit  the 
evidence  of  the  richest  peer  of  the  realm,  if  he 
have  the  interest  of  sixpence  in  the  cause ;  no* 
has  Sir  Matthew  Hale  been  visited  with  the  sin 
of  having  condemned  and  suffered  to  be  executed, 
a  mother  and  her  daughter  of  eleven  years  of  age, 
for  witchcraft,  under  the  quaint  advice  of  Sir 
(F) 


Ixii 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Thomas  Brown,  one  of  the  first  physicians  and 
philosophers  of  his,  or,  indeed,  of  any  time,  who 
was  devoting  his  life  to  the  confutation  of  what 
he  deemed  vulgar  errors  !  nor  will  the  judges  of 
Englandiiercafter  he  considered  culpable  for  hav 
ing  at  one  session  condemned  and  left  for  execu 
tion  six  young  men  and  women  under  the  age  of 
twenty,  for  uttering  forged  one  pound  notes  ;  or 
for  having,  so  late  as  the  year  1820,  publicly  sold 
for  large  sums  the  places  of  the  officers  of  their 
courts. 

To  persecute  the  lover  of  truth  for  opposing 
established  customs,  and  to  censure  him  in  after 
ages  for  not  having  been  more  strenuous  in  oppo 
sition,  are  errors  which  will  never  cease  until  the 
pleasure  of  self-elevation  from  the  depression  of 
superiority  is  no  more.  "  These  things  must  con 
tinue  as  they  have  been  ;  so  too  will  that  also 
continue,  whereupon  learning  hath  ever  relied, 
and  which  faileth  not :  justificata  est  sapientia  a 
iiliis  suis." 

Bacon,  unmoved  by  the  prejudice,  by  which 
during  his  life  he  was  resisted,  or  the  scurrilous 
libels  by  which  he  was  assailed,  went  right  on 
ward  in  the  advancement  of  knowledge,  the  only 
effectual  mode  of  decomposing  error.  Where  he 
saw  that  truth  was  likely  to  be  received,  he  pre 
sented  hor  in  all  her  divine  loveliness.  When  he 
could  not  directly  attack  error,  when  the  light 
was  too  strong  for  weak  eyes,  he  never  omitted  an 
opportunity  to  expose  it.  Truth  is  often  silent  as 
fearing  lu:r  judge,  never  as  suspecting  her  cause. 

In  his  letter  to  the  king,  stating  that  Peacham 
had  been  put  to  the  torture,  he  says,  "Though  we 
are  driven  to  make  our  way  through  questions, 
which  I  wish  were  otherwise,  yet  1  hope  the  end 
will  be  good  :"  and,  unable  at  that  period  to 
counteract  the  then  common  custom  of  importuning 
the  judges,  he  warned  Villiersof  the'evil.  "  By  no 
means,"  he  says,  "be  you  persuaded  to  interpose 
yourself,  either  by  word  or  letter,  in  any  cause 
depending,  or  like  to  be  depending  in  any  court 
of  justice,  nor  suffer  any  other  great  man  to  do  it 
where  you  can  hinder  it,  and  by  all  means  dis 
suade  the  king  himself  from  it,  upon  the  impor 
tunity  of  any  for  themselves  or  their  friends ;  if 
it  should  prevail,  it  perverts  justice  ;  but  if  the 
judge  be  so  just,  and  of  such  courage,  as  he  ought 
to  be,  as  not  to  be  inclined  thereby,  yet  it  always 
leaves  a  taint  of  suspicion  behind  it:  judges  must 
be  as  chaste  as  Csesar's  wife,  neither  to  be,  nor  to 
be  suspected  to  be  unjust;  and,  sir,  the  honour 
of  the  judges  in  their  judicature  is  the  king's 
honour,  whose  person  they  represent." 

The  trial  of  Peacham  took  place  at  Taunton  on 
the  7th  of  August,  1615,  before  the  chief  baron 
and  Sir  Henry  Montagu.  Bacon  did  not  attend, 
but  the  prosecution  was  conducted  by  the  king's 
sergeant  and  solicitor,  when  the  old  clergyman, 
who  defended  himself  "  very  simply,  although 
obstinately  and  doggedly  enough,"  was  convicted, 


but,  some  of  the  judges  doubting  whether  it  was 
treason,  he  was  not  executed. 

The  same  course  of  private  consultation  with 
the  judges  would  have  been  adopted  in  the  case 
of  Owen,  had  not  the  attorney-general  been  so 
clear  in  his  opinion  of  the  treason,  as  to  induce 
him  to  think  it  inexpedient  to  imply  that  any 
doubt  could  be  entertained. 

His  speeches  against  Owen  and  Talbot,  which 
are  preserved,  are  in  the  usual  style  of  speeches 
of  this  nature,  with  some  of  the  scurrility  by 
which  the  eloquence  of  the  bar  was  at  that  time 
polluted. 

When  speaking  of  the  king's  clemency,  he  says, 
"The  king  has  had  too  many  causes  of  irritation : 
he  has  been  irritated  by  the  Powder  Treason, 
when,  in  the  chair  of  majesty,  his  vine  and  olive 
branches  about  him,  attended  by  his  nobles  and 
third  estate  in  parliament,  he  was,  in  the  twink 
ling  of  an  eye,  as  if  it  had  been  a  particular 
doomsday,  to  have  been  brought  to  ashes,  and 
dispersed  to  the  four  winds.  He  hath  been  irri 
tated  by  wicked  and  monstrous  libels,  and  by  the 
violence  of  demagogues  who  have  at  all  times 
infested,  and  in  times  of  disturbance,  when  the 
scum  is  uppermost,  ever  will  infest  society ;  confi 
dent  and  daring  persons,  Nihil  tarn  verens,  quam 
ne  dubilare  aliqud  de  re,  viderdur,  priding  them 
selves  in  pulling  down  magistrates,  and  chanting 
the  psalm,  '  Let  us  bind  the  kings  in  chains,  and 
the  nobles  in  fetters  of  iron.'  " 

During  this  year  an  event  occurred,  which  ma 
terially  affected  the  immediate  pursuits  and  future 
fate  of  Sir  Francis  Bacon, — the  king's  selection 
of  a  new  favourite. 

dVorge  Villiers,  a  younger  son  of  Sir  George 
Villiers  and  Mary  Beaumont,  on  each  side  well 
descended,  was  born  in  1592.  Having  early  lost 
his  father,  his  education  was  conducted  by  Lady 
Villiers,  and,  though  he  was  naturally  intelligent 
and  of  quick  parts,  more  attention  was  paid  to  the 
graces  of  manner  and  the  lighter  accomplishments 
which  ornament  a  gentleman,  than  the  solid 
learning  and  virtuous  precepts  which  form  a  great 
and  good  man.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  he  travel 
led  to  France,  and,  having  passed  three  years  in 
the  completion  of  his  studies,  he  returned  to  the 
seat  of  his  forefathers,  in  Leicestershire,  where 
he  conceived  an  intention  of  settling  himself  in 
marriage;  but,  having  journeyed  to  London,  and 
consulted  Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  that  gentleman, 
charmed  by  his  persona]  beauty  and  graceful  de 
portment,  advised  him  to  relinquish  his  intention, 
and  try  his  fortune  at  court.  Shrewd  advice, 
which  he,  without  a  sigh,  obeyed.  He  sacrificed 
his  affections  at  the  first  temptation  of  ambition. 

The  king  had  gradually  withdrawn  his  favoir. 
from  Somerset,  equally  displeased  by  the  haugh 
tiness  of  his  manners,  and  by  an  increasing  gloom, 
that  obscured  all  those  lighter  qualities  which  had 
formerly  contributed  to  his  amusement,  a  gloom 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixiii 


soon  after  fatally  explained.  Although  power 
fully  attracted  by  the  elegance  and  gayety  of  Vil- 
liers,  yet  James  had  been  so  harassed  by  com 
plaints  of  favouritism,  that  he  would  not  bestow 
any  appointment  upon  him,  until  solicited  by  the 
queen  and  some  of  the  gravest  of  his  councillors. 
In  1613  Villiers  was  taken  into  the  king's  house 
hold,  and  rose  rapidly  to  the  highest  honours. 
He  was  nominated  cupbearer,  received  several 
lucrative  appointments;  the  successive  honours 
of  knighthood,  of  a  barony,  an  earldom,  a  mar- 
quisate,  and  was  finally  created  Duke  of  Buck 
ingham. 

From  the  paternal  character  of  Bacon's  protec 
tion  of  the  new  favourite,  it  is  probable  that  he 
had  early  sought  his  assistance  and  advice;  as  a 
friendship  was  formed  between  them,  which  con 
tinued  with  scarcely  any  interruption  till  the 
death,  and,  indeed,  after  the  death  of  Bacon :  *  a 
friendship  which  was  always  marked  by  a  series 
of  the  wisest  and  best  counsels,  and  was  never 
checked  by  the  increased  power  and  elevation  of 
Villiers. 

This  intimacy  between  an  experienced  states 
man  and  a  rising  favourite  was  naturally  looked 
upon  with  some  jealousy,  but  it  ought  to  have  been 
remembered  that  there  was  never  any  intimacy 
between  Bacon  and  Somerset.  In  the  whole  of  his 
voluminous  correspondence,  there  is  not  one  letter 
of  solicitation  or  compliment  to  that  powerful 
favourite,  or  any  vain  attempt  to  divert  him  from 
his  own  gratifications  to  the  advancement  of  the 
public  good  ;  but  in  Villiers  he  thought  he  saw  a 
better  nature,  capable  of  such  culture,  as  to  be 
fruitful  in  good  works.  Whatever  the  motives 
were  in  which  this  union  originated,  the  records 
extant  of  the  spirit  by  which  it  was  cemented  are 
honourable  to  both.  In  the  courtesy  and  docility 
of  Villiers,  Bacon  did  not  foresee  the  rapacity 
that  was  to  end  in  his  own  disgrace,  and  in  the 
violent  death  of  the  favourite. 

About  this  period,  Sir  George  Villiers,  person 
ally  and  by  letter,  importuned  his  friend  to  com 
municate  his  sentiments  respecting  the  conduct 
which,  thus  favoured  by  the  king,  it  would  be 
proper  for  him  to  observe  ;  and,  considering  these 
requests  as  commands,  Bacon  wrote  a  letter  of 
advice  to  Villiers,  such  as  is  not  usually  given  in 
courts,  but  of  a  strain  equally  free  and  friendly, 
calculated  to  make  the  person  to  whom  it  was 
addressed  both  good  and  great,  and  equally  ho 
nourable  to  the  giver  and  the  receiver:  advice 
which  contributed  not  a  little  to  his  prosperity 
in  life.  It  is  an  essay  on  the  following  sub 
jects  : 

1 .  Matters  that  concern  religion,  and  the  church 
and  churchmen. 

2.  Matters  concerning  justice,  and  the  laws, 
and  the  professors  thereof. 

1  See  Bacon's  will. 


3.  Councillors,  and  the  council  table,  and  the 
offices  and  officers  of  the  kingdom. 

4.  Foreign  negotiations  and  embassies. 

5.  Peace  and  war,  both  foreign  and  civil,  and  in 
that  the  navy  and  forts,  and  what  belongs  to  them. 

6.  Trade  at  home  and  abroad. 

7.  Colonies,  or  foreign  plantations. 

8.  The  court  and  curiality. 

Each  of  these  subjects  he  explains,  with  a  mi 
nuteness  scarcely  to  be  conceived,  except  by  the 
admirers  of  his  works,  who  well  know  his  ex 
tensive  and  minute  survey  of  every  subject  to 
which  he  directed  his  attention. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1613,  Sir  Thomas 
Overbury  was  poisoned  in  the  Tower  by  one 
Weston,  of  which  crime  he  was  convicted,  received 
sentence  of  death,  and  was  executed.  In  the 
progress  of  the  trial  suspicions  having  been  excited 
against  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Somerset,  as 
having  been  deeply  concerned  in  this  barbarous 
act;  their  injudicious  friends,  by  endeavouring 
to  circulate  a  report  that  these  suspicions  were 
but  an  artifice  to  ruin  that  nobleman,  the  King 
commanded  the  attorney-general  to  prosecute  in 
the  Star  Chamber  Mr.  Lumsden,  a  gentleman  of 
good  family  in  Scotland,  Sir  John  Hollis,  after 
wards  Earl  of  Clare,  and  Sir  John  Wentworth, 
who  were  convicted  and  severely  punished.  The 
speech  of  Bacon  upon  this  trial  is  fortunately 
preserved. 

Shortly  after  this  investigation,  so  many  cir 
cumstances  transpired,  all  tending  to  implicate 
the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Somerset,  and  so  great 
an  excitement  prevailed  through  the  whole  coun 
try,  that  the  king  determined  to  bring  these 
great  offenders  to  trial ;  a  resolution  which  he 
could  not  have  formed  without  the  most  painful 
struggle  between  his  duty  to  the  public  and  his 
anxiety  to  protect  his  fallen  favourite.  His  sense 
of  duty  as  the  dispenser  of  justice  prevailed. 
Previous  to  the  trial,  which  took  place  May,  1616, 
the  same  course  of  private  consultation  with  the 
judges  was  pursued,  and  the  king  caused  it  to  be 
privately  intimated  to  Somerset,  that  it  would  be 
his  own  fault  if  favour  was  not  extended  to  him  : 
favour  which  was  encouraged  by  Bacon,  in  a  let 
ter  to  the  king,  in  which  he  says,  "  The  great 
downfall  of  so  great  persons  carrieth  in  itself  a 
heavy  judgment,  and  a  kind  of  civil  death,  al 
though  their  lives  should  notbe  taken.  All  which 
may  satisfy  honour  for  sparing  their  lives." 

In  his  speech  upon  the  trial,  Bacon  gave  a 
clear  and  circumstantial  account  of  the  whole  con 
spiracy  against  Overbury,  describing  the  various 
practices  against  his  life;  but  though  he  fully  and 
fairly  executed  his  duty  as  attorney-general,  it 
was  without  malice  or  harshness,  availing  him 
self  of  an  opportunity,  of  which  he  never  lost 
sight,  to  recommend  mercy ;  and  though  the 
friends  of  the  new  favourite  were  supposed  to  nave 


1X1V 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


been  deeply  interested  in  the  downfall  of  Somerset, 
and  accused  of  secretly  working  his  ruin,  Bacon 
grained  great  honour  in  the  opinions  of  all  men,  by 
his  impartial  yet  merciful  treatment  of  a  man  whom 
in  his  prosperity  he  had  shunned  and  despised. 

Early  in  this  year,  (1615,  jEt.  55,)  a  dispute 
which  occasioned  considerable  agitation,  arose 
between  the  Court  of  Chancery  and  the  Court  of 
King's  Bench,  respecting  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
chancellor  after  judgment  given  in  courts  of  law. 
Upon  this  dispute,  heightened  by  the  warmth  and 
haughtiness  of  Sir  Edward  Coke,  and  the  danger 
ous  illness  of  the  chancellor  at  the  time  when 
Coke  promoted  the  inquiry,  the  king  and  Yilliers 
conferred  with  Bacon,  to  whom  and  other  emi 
nent  members  of  the  profession,  the  matter  was 
referred,  and  upon  their  report,  the  king  in  person 
pronounced  judgment  in  favour  of  the  lord  chan 
cellor,  with  some  strong  observations  upon  the 
conduct  of  Coke. 

Pending  this  investigation,  (1616,  JEt.  56,) 
Villiers,  it  seems,  communicated  to  Bacon  the 
king's  intention  either  to  admit  him  a  member  of 
the  privy  council,  or,  upon  the  death  or  resignation 
of  the  chancellor,  to  intrust  him  with  the  great 
seal,  a  trust  to  which  he  was  certain  of  the  chan 
cellor's  recommendation. 

Having  thus  discharged  the  duties  of  solicitor 
and  attorney-general,  with  much  credit  to  himself 
and  advantage  to  the  community,  he,  early  in  the 
year  1615-16,  expressed  to  Villiers  his  wish  to  be 
admitted  a  member  of  the  privy  council,  from  the 
hope  that  he  might  be  of  service  "in  limes  which 
did  never  more  require  a  king's  attorney  to  be 
well  armed,  and  to  wear  a  gauntlet  and  not  a 
glovftrf'  In  consequence  of  this  communication, 
the  King,  on  the  3d  of  June,  gave  him  the  option 
either  to  be  made  privy  councillor,  or  the  assur 
ance  of  succeeding  the  chancellor.  Bacon,  for 
reasons  which  he  has  thus  expressed  in  a  letter  to 
Villiers,  preferred  being  sworn  privy  councillor: 

"Sir,  the  king  giveth  me  a  noble  choice,  and 
you  are  the  man  my  heart  ever  told  me  you  were. 
Ambition  would  draw  me  to  the  latter  part  of  the 
choice;  but  in  respect  of  my  hearty  wishes  that 
my  lord  chancellor  may  live  long,  and  the  small 
hopes  I  have  that  I  shall  live  long  myself,  and, 
above  all,  because  I  see  his  majesty's  service 
daily  and  instantly  bleedeth ;  towards  which  I 
persuade  myself  (vainly,  perhaps,  but  yet  in  mine 
own  thoughts  firmly  and  constantly)  that  I  shall 
give,  when  I  am  of  the  table,  some  effectual  fur 
therance,  (as  a  poor  thread  of  the  labyrinth,  which 
hath  no  other  virtue  but  a  united  continuance, 
without  interruption  or  distraction,)  I  do  accept  of 
the  tormer,  to  be  councillor  for  the  present,  and  to 
give  over  pleading  at  the  bar ;  let  the  other  mat 
ter  rest  upon  my  proof  and  his  majesty's  pleasure, 
and  the  accidents  of  time.  For,  to  speak  plainly, 
1  would  be  loath  that  my  lord  chancellor,  to 


whom  I  owe  most  after  the  king  and  yourself, 
should  be  locked  to  his  successor  for  any  ad 
vancement  or  gracing  of  me.  So  I  ever  remain 
your  true  and  most  devoted  and  obliged  servant. 
—3d  June,  1616." 

He  was  accordingly  sworn  of  the  privy  coun 
cil,  and  took  his  seat  at  the  board  on  the  9th  of 
June;  it  having  been  previously  agreed  that,  though 
in  general  he  should  cease  to  plead  as  an  advocate, 
his  permission  to  give  counsel  in  causes  should 
continue,  and  that  if  any  urgent  and  weighty 
matter  should  arise,  that  he  might,  with  the  king's 
permission,  be  allowed  to  plead.  Upon  this  unu 
sual  honour  he  was  immediately  congratulated  by 
the  university  of  Cambridge. 

Such  were  the  occupations  of  this  philosopher, 
who,  during  the  three  years  in  which  period  he 
was  attorney-general,  conducted  himself  with 
such  prudent  moderation  in  so  many  perplexed 
and  difficult  cases,  and  with  such  evenness  and 
integrity,  that  his  conduct  has  never  been  ques 
tioned,  nor  has  malice  dared  to  utter  of  him  the 
least  calumny. 

He  now  approached  his  last  act  as  attorney- 
general,  which  was  of  the  same  nature  as  the  first, 
his  prosecution  of  Mr.  Markham  in  the  Star  Cham 
ber,  for  sending  a  challenge  to  Lord  Darcy. 

On  the  3d  of  March,  1  (510-17,  Lord  Brackley, 
then  lord  chancellor,  being  worn  out  with  age  and 
infirmities,  resigned  the  groat  seal,  and  escaped, 
for  a  short  interval,  from  the  troubles  of  the  Court 
of  Chancery,  over  which  he  had  presided  for 
thirteen  years,  amidst  the  disputes  between  this 
high  tribunal  and  the  courts  of  common  law,  and 
the  pressure  of  business,  which  had  so  increased 
as  to  have  been  beyond  the  power  of  any  indi 
vidual  to  control. 

On  the  7th  of  the  same  month,  the  seals  were 
delivered  by  the  king  to  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  with 
four  admonitions  :  First,  To  contain  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  court  within  its  true  and  due  limits,  without 
swelling  or  excess.  Secondly,  Not  to  put  the  grc, «: 
seal  to  letters  patent,  as  a  matter  of  course  to  follow 
after  precedent  warrants.  Thirdly,  To  retrench 
all  unnecessary  delays,  that  the  subject  might  find 
that  he  did  enjoy  the  same  remedy  against  the 
fainting  of  the  soul  and  the  consumption  of  the 
estate,  which  was  speedy  justice.  "  Bis  dat,  qui 
cito  dat."  Fourthly,  That  justice  might  pass  with 
as  easy  charge  as  might  be;  and  that  those  same 
brambles,  that  grow  about  justice,  of  needless 
charge  and  expense,  and  all  manner  of  exactions, 
might  be  rooted  out  so  far  as  might  be. 

Thus  was  Francis  Bacon,  then  in  the  fifty- 
seventh  3Tear  of  his  age,  created  Lord  Keeper  of 
the  Great  Seal  of  England. 

In  the  joy  of  recent  possession  he  instantly 
wrote  to  his  friend  and  patron,  the  Earl  of  Buck 
ingham,  with  a  pen  overflowing  with  the  expres 
sion  of  his  gratitude. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixv 


My  dearest  Lord, — It  is  both  in  cares  and 
kindness,  that  small  ones  float  up  to  the  tongue 
and  great  ones  sink  down  into  the  heart  in  silence. 
Therefore  I  could  speak  little  to  your  lordship 
to-day,  neither  had  I  fit  time.  But  I  must  profess 
thus  much,  that  in  this  day's  work  you  are  the 
truest  and  perfectest  mirror  and  example  of  firm 
and  generous  friendship  that  ever  was  in  court. 
And  I  shall  count  every  day  lost,  wherein  I  shall 
not  either  study  your  well  doing  in  thought,  or  do 
your  name  honour  in  speech,  or  perform  you  ser 
vice  in  deed.  Good  my  lord,  account  and  ac 
cept  me  your  most  bounden  and  devoted  friend 
and  servant  of  all  men  living, 

FR.  BACON,  C.S. 
March  7,  1616-17. 

Such  is  the  nature  of  human  delight;  such  the 
nature  of  human  foresight ! 

As  he  must  have  known,  what  he  has  so  beau 
tifully  taught,  that  a  man  of  genius  can  seldom 
be  permanently  influenced  by  worldly  distinc 
tion  ;  as  he  well  knew  that  his  own  happiness 
and  utility  consisted  not  in  action  but  in  contem 
plation  ;  as  he  had  published  his  opinion  that 
"  men  in  great  place  are  thrice  servants  ;  ser 
vants  of  the  sovereign  or  state,  servants  of  fame, 
and  servants  of  business ;  so  as  they  have  no  free 
dom,  neither  in  their  person,  nor  in  their  actions, 
nor  in  their  times,"  it  is  probable  that  he  was 
urged  to  this  and  to  every  other  step  on  the  road 
to  aggrandizement,  either  by  the  importunities 
of  his  family,  or  by  his  favourite  opinion,  that 
"knowledge  is  never  so  dignified  and  exalted  as 
when  contemplation  and  action  are  nearly  and 
strongly  conjoined  together:  a  conjunction  like 
unto  that  of  the  two  highest  planets,  Saturn,  the 
planet  of  rest  and  contemplation,  and  Jupiter, 
the  planet  of  civil  society  and  action.'' 

It  has  been  said  by  some  of  the  ancient  magi 
cians,  that  they  could  see  clearly  all  which  was 
to  befall  others,  but  that  of  their  own  future  life 
they  could  discern  nothing.  It  might  be  a  curi 
ous  speculation  for  any  admirer  of  the  works  of 
this  great  man,  to  collect  the  oracles  he  would 
have  delivered  to  warn  any  other  philosopher  of 
the  probable  danger  and  certain  infelicity  of  ac 
cepting  such  an  office  in  such  times. 

To  the  hope  of  wealth  he  would  have  said, 
"  it  diverts  and  interrupts  the  prosecution  and  ad 
vancement  of  knowledge,  like  unto  the  golden 
ball  thrown  before  Atalanta,  which,  while  she 
goeth  aside  and  stoopeth  to  take  it  up,  the  race  is 
hindered. 

"  Declinat  cursus  aurutnq.  volubile  tollit," 

To  the  importunities  of  friends  he  would  have 
answered  by  his  favourite  maxim,  "You  do  not 
duly  estimate  the  value  of  pleasures  ;  for  if  you 
observe  well,  you  shall  find  the  logical  part  of 
some  men's  minds  good,  but  the  mathematical 

VOL.  I.— (9) 


part  nothing  worth :  that  Is,  they  can  judge  well 
of  the  mode  of  attaining  the  end,  but  ill  of  the 
value  of  the  end  itself." 

He  would  have  warned  ambition  that  "  the 
seeled  dove  mounts  and  mounts  because  he  is 
unable  to  look  about  him." 

To  the  supposition  "  that  worldly  power  is  the 
means  to  do  good,"  he  would  have  said,  "  A  man 
who  spends  his  life  in  an  impartial  search  after 
truth,  is  a  better  friend  to  mankind  than  any  states 
man  or  hero,  whose  merits  are  commonly  con 
fined  within  the  circle  of  an  age  or  a  nation,  and 
are  not  unlike  seasonable  and  favouring  showers, 
which,  though  they  be  profitable  and  desirable, 
yet  serve  for  that  season  only  wherein  they  fall, 
and  for  a  latitude  of  ground  which  they  water ; 
but  the  benefices  of  the  philosopher,  like  the 
influences  of  the  sun  and  the  heavenly  bodies,  are 
for  time  permanent,  for  place  universal:  those 
again  are  commonly  mixed  with  strife  and  per 
turbation  ;  but  these  have  the  true  character  of 
divine  presence,  and  corne  in  aura  lent  without 
noise  or  agitation." 

The  flattering  illusion  of  good  to  result  from 
the  union  of  contemplation  and  action,  would  have 
been  dissipated  by  the  admonition,  that  the  life 
and  faculties  of  man  are  so  short  and  limited  that 
this  union  has  always  failed,  and  must  be  injuri 
ous  both  to  the  politician  and  to  the  philosopher. 
To  the  politician,  as,  from  variety  of  speculation, 
he  would  neither  be  prompt  in  action  nor  consist 
ent  in  general  conduct;  and  as,  from  meditating 
upon  the  universal  frame  of  nature,  he  would 
have  little  disposition  to  confine  his  views  to  the 
circle  where  his  usefulness  might  be  most  bane- 
ficial.  To  the  philosopher,  as  powers  intended  to 
enlarge  the  province  of  knowledge,  and  enlighten 
distant  a<res,  would  be  wasted  upon  subjects  of 
mere  temporary  interest,  debates  in  courts  of  jus 
tice,  and  the  mechanism  of  state  business.  That 
Bacon  should  have  been  doomed  to  such  occupa 
tions,  that  he,  who  stood  the  lofty  beacon  of 
science,  evermore  guiding  the  exploring  scholar  in 
voyages  of  discovery  to  improve  and  bless  man 
kind,  should  voluntarily  have  descended  to  the 
shifting  quicksands  of  politics,  is  a  theme  for 
wonder  and  pity.  He  could  have  pointed  r  jt 
to  another  the  shoals,  the  sunken  rocks,  and  the 
treacherous  nature  of  the  current ;  but  he  adven 
tured, — and  little  minds  can  now  point  out  where 
he  was  lost,  and  where  the  waters  went  over  his 
soul. 

Much  as  it  is  to  be  lamented  that  he  should 
have  accepted  this  office,  the  loss  to  science 
seems,  in  some  sort,  to  have  been  compensated 
by  his  entire  devotion  to  his  professional  and 
political  duties:  duties  for  which  he  possessed 
unrivalled  powers. 

It  has  been  truly  said  by  the  biographer  of 
Bacon's  successor,  that  "  the  chancellorship  of 
England  is  not  a  chariot  for  every  scholar  to  get 

(F2) 


Ixvi 


LIFE  OP   BACON. 


up  ar4  ride  in.  Saving  this  one,  perhaps  it  w.ould 
take  a  long  day  to  find  another.  Our  laws  are 
the  wisdom  of  many  ages,  consisting  of  a  world 
of  customs,  maxims,  intricate  decisions,  which 
are  responsa  prudentum.  Tully  could  never  have 
boasted,  if  he  had  lived  amongst  us,  Si  mihi  ve- 
hementer  occupato  stomachum  moverint,  triduo  me 
jurisconsult  urn  profitebor.  He  is  altogether  de 
ceived,  that  thinks  he  is  fit  for  the  exercise  of  our 
judicature,  because  he  is  a  great  rabbi  in  some 
academical  authors;  for  this  hath  little  or  no 
copulation  with  our  encyclopedia  of  arts  and 
sciences.  Quintilian  might  judge  right  upon  the 
branches  of  oratory  and  philosophy,  0 nines  disci- 
plinas  inter  se  conjunct  ionem  reruni,  etcommunionem 
habere.  But  our  law  is  a  plant  that  grew  alone, 
and  is  not  entwined  into  the  hedge  of  other  pro 
fessions  ;  yet  the  small  insight  that  some  have 
into  deep  matters,  cause  them  to  think  that  it  is 
no  insuperable  task  for  an  unexpert  man  to  be  the 
chief  arbiter  in  a  court  of  equity.  Bring  reason 
and  conscience  with  you,  the  good  stock  of  na 
ture,  and  the  thing  is  done.  JEquitas  optima 
cuique  notissima  est,  is  a  trivial  saying,  a  very 
good  man  cannot  be  ignorant  of  equity  ;  and  who 
knows  not  that  extreme  right  is  extreme  injury1? 
But  they  that  look  no  further  than  so,  are  short 
sighted  :  for  there  is  no  strain  of  wisdom  more 
sublime,  than  upon  all  complaints  to  measure  the 
just  distance  between  law  and  equity ;  because 
in  this  high  place,  it  is  not  equity  at  lust  and 
pleasure  that  is  moved  for,  but  equity  according  to 
decrees  and  precedents  foregoing,  as  the  dew- 
beaters  have  trod  the  way  for  those  that  come 
after  them." 

Of  Bacon's  fitness  for  this  office,  some  estimate 
may  be  formed  by  a  consideration  of  the  four 
principal  qualifications  of  a  chancellor,  as 

A  Lawyer, 

A  Judge, 

A  Statesman, 

And  the  Patron  of  Preferment. 

As  a  Lawyer  he  had  for  a  series  of  years  been 
engaged  in  professional  life.  He  had  been  so 
licitor  and  attorney-general ;  had  published  upon 
diirerent  parts  of  the  law ;  had  deeply  meditated 
upon  the  principles  of  equity,  and  had  availed 
himself  of  every  opportunity  to  assist  in  improve 
ment  of  the  law,  in  obedience  to  his  favourite 
maxim, "that  every  man  is  a  debtor  to  his  profes 
sion,  from  the  which,  as  men  do  of  course  seek 
countenance  and  profit,  so  ought  they  of  duty  to 
endeavour  themselves,  by  way  of  amends,  to  be  a 
help  and  ornament." 

As  a  Judge,  he,  from  his  infancy,  had  seen  the 
different  modes  in  which  judicial  duties  were 
discharged,  had  meditated  deeply  and  published 
his  opinions  upon  the  perfection  of  these  duties 
"to  the  suitors,  to  the  advocates,  to  the  officers  of 
justice  underneath  them,  and  to  the  sovereign 


or  state  above  them:"  and  in  his  addresses  to 
the  judges  upon  their  appointment  or  promotion, 
he  availed  himself  of  every  opportunity  to  explain 
them. 

As  a  Statesman,  we  have  seen  that  he  was 
cradled  in  politics  ;  that  his  works  abound  with 
notices  of  his  political  exertions  ;  that  his  advice 
to  Sir  George  Villiers  is  an  essay  upon  all  the 
various  duties  of  a  statesman,  with  respect  to  re 
ligion,  justice,  the  council  table,  foreign  negotia 
tions,  peace  and  war,  trade,  the  colonies,  and  the 
court;  and  of  his  parliamentary  eloquence  his 
friend  Ben  Jonson  says,  "There  happened  in  my 
time  one  noble  speaker,  who  was  full  of  gravity 
in  his  speaking;  his  language,  where  he  could 
spare  or  pass  by  a  jest,  was  nobly  censorious. 
No  man  ever  spake  more  neatly,  more  pressly, 
more  weightily,  or  suffered  less  emptiness,  less 
idleness,  in  what  he  uttered.  No  member  of 
his  speech  but  consisted  of  his  own  graces.  His 
hearers  could  not  cough  or  look  aside  from  him 
without  loss.  He  commanded  where  he  spoke, 
and  had  his  judges  angry  and  pleased  at  his  de 
votion.  No  man  had  their  affections  more  in 
his  power.  The  fear  of  every  man  that  heard  him 
was  lest  he  should  make  an  end." 

As  a  Patron,  he  considered  preferment  a  sacred 
trust,  to  preserve  and  promote  high  feeling,  en 
courage  merit,  and  counteract  the  tendency  of 
learning  to  dispose  men  to  leisure  and  private- 
ness. 

In  his  advice  to  Villiers,  as  to  the  patrimony 
of  the  church,  he  says,  "  You  will  be  often  so 
licited,  and  perhaps  importuned  to  prefer  scholars 
to  church  livings;  you  may  further  your  friends 
in  that  way,  'caeteris  paribus  ;'  otherwise  remem 
ber,  I  pray,  that  these  are  not  places  merely  of 
favour ;  the  charge  of  souls  lies  upon  them,  the 
greatest  account  whereof  will  be  required  at  their 
own  hands  ;  but  they  will  share  deeply  in  their 
faults  who  are  the  instruments  of  their  prefer 
ment." 

A  few  weeks  after  he  was  appointed  lord 
keeper,  he  thus  writes  to  a  clergyman  of  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge:  "After  my  hearty  com 
mendations,  I  have  heard  of  you,  as  a  man  well 
deserving,  and  of  able  gifts  to  become  profitable  in 
the  church ;  and  there  being  fallen  within  my  gift 
the  rectory  of  Frome  St.  Quintin,  with  the  chapel 
of  Evershot,  in  Dorsetshire,  which  seems  to  be  a 
thing  of  good  value,  eighteen  pounds  in  the  king's 
books,  and  in  a  good  country,  I  have  thought  good 
to  make  offer  of  it  to  you :  tliB  rather  for  that  you 
are  of  Trinity  College,  whereof  myself  was  some 
time  :  and  my  purpose  is  to  make  choice  of  men 
rather  by  care  and  inquiry,  than  by  their  own 
suits  and  commendatory  letters.  So  I  bid  you 
farewell. 

From  your  loving  friend, 

FR.  BACON,  C.  S." 

From  Dorset  House,  23d  April.  1617, 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixvii 


Upon  sending  to  Buckingham  his  patent  for 
creating  him  a  viscount,  he  says,  "I  recommend 
unto  you  principally,  that  which  I  think  was 
never  done  since  I  was  born,  and  which,  because 
it  is  not  done,  hath  bred  almost  a  wilderness  and 
solitude  in  the  king's  service;  which  is,  that  you 
countenance,  and  encourage,  and  advance  able 
men,  in  all  kinds,  degrees,  and  professions.  For 
in  the  time  of  the  Cecils,  the  father  and  the  son, 
able  men  were  by  design  arid  of  purpose  sup 
pressed  ;  and  though  of  late  choice  goeth  better, 
both  in  church  and  commonwealth,  yet  money 
and  time-serving,  and  cunning  canvasses  and  im 
portunity  prevailet.h  too  much.  And  in  places 
of  moment,  rather  make  able  and  honest  men 
yours,  than  advance  those  that  are  otherwise,  be 
cause  they  are  yours." 

And  in  his  appointment  of  judges,  it  will  be 
seen  that  he  was  influenced  only  by  an  anxiety 
to  select  the  greatest  ability  and  integrity,  "  sci 
ence  and  conscience,"  for  these  important  trusts. 

In  the  exercise  of  this  virtue  there  was  not  any 
merit  peculiar  to  Bacon.  It  was  the  common 
sympathy  for  intellect,  which,  from  consciousness 
of  the  imbecility  and  wretchedness  attendant  upon 
ignorance,  uses  power  to  promote  merit  and  re 
lieve  wrongs.  It  passes  by  the  particular  infirmi 
ties  of  those  who  contribute  any  thing  to  the 
advancement  of  general  learning,  judging  it 
fitter  that  men  of  abilities  should  jointly  engage 
against  ignorance  and  barbarism.  This  had 
many  years  before  his  promotion  been  stated 
by  Bacon :  "  Neither  can  this  point  otherwise 
be;  for  learning  endueth  men's  minds  with  a 
true  sense  of  the  frailty  of  their  persons,  the 
casualty  of  their  fortunes,  and  the  dignity  of  their 
soul  and  vocation  :  so  that  it  is  impossible  for 
them  to  esteem  that  any  greatness  of  their  own 
fortune  can  be  a  true  or  worthy  end  of  their  being 
and  ordainment;  whereas  the  corrupter  sort  of 
mere  politicians,  that  have  not  their  thoughts 
established  by  learning  in  the  love  and  apprehen 
sion  of  duty,  nor  ever  look  abroad  into  universal 
ity,  do  refer  all  things  to  themselves,  and  thrust 
themselves  into  the  centre  of  the  world,  as  if  all 
lines  should  meet  in  them  and  their  fortunes; 
never  caring,  in  all  tempests,  what  becomes  of 
the  ship  of  state,  so  they  may  save  themselves  in 
the  cockboat  of  their  own  fortune." 

This  truth,  necessarily  attendant  upon  all 
knowledge,  is  not  excluded  from  judicial  know 
ledge.  It  has  influenced  all  intelligent  judges  : 
Sir  Thomas  More;  the  Chancellor  de  1'Hdpital; 
Lord  Somers,  to  whom  he  has  been  compared ; 
D'Aguesseau ;  Sir  Edward  Coke,  and  Sir  Mat 
thew  Hale.  Bacon's  favourite  maxim  therefore 
was,  "  Detur  digniori :  qui  beneficium  digno  dat 
omnes  obligat;"  and  in  his  prayer,  worthy  of  a 
chancellor,  he  daily  said,  "This  vine,  which  my 
right-hand  hath  planted  in  this  nation,  I  have  ever 


!  prayed  unto  thee  that  it  might  stretch  her  branches 
to  the  seas  and  to  the  floods." 

Whatever  were  Sir  Francis's  gratifications, 
attendant  upon  the  dignity  of  this  promotion,  in 
direct  pecuniary  profit  he  sustained  great  loss  :  as 
he  relinquished  his  office  of  attorney-general, 
worth  at  least  £GOOO  a  year,  his  chancellorship 
to  the  prince,  and  his  post  of  Registrar  of  the 
Star  Chamber,  worth  about  £lGOO  a  year,  whilst 
the  direct  profits  of  the  great  seal  were  only 
£918,  15s,  Of  the  amount  of  the  indirect  profits 
from  fees  and  presents  it  is,  of  course,  impossible 
to  form  a  correct  estimate.  It  must,  however, 
have  been  considerable,  as,  according  to  the  ori 
ental  customs  of  the  times,  statesmen  were  then 
seldom  approached  by  a  suitor  without  some  ac 
ceptable  offering. 

The  new  year's  gifts,  regularly  presented  to 
the  king,  were  of  immense  value,  and  were  given 
by  the  great  officers  of  state,  peers  and  peeresses, 
the  bishops,  knights,  and  their  ladies,  gentlemen 
and  gentlewomen,  and  even  from  the  tradesmen, 
and  all  the  officers  of  the  household.  These  pre 
sents  were  chiefly  in  money,  but  sometimes  va 
ried  by  the  taste  of  the  donors.  As  a  matter  of 
curiosit}r,  it  may  be  noticed,  that  Sir  Francis 
Bacon  gave  to  the  queen  "  one  pettycoat  of  white 
sattin,  embrodered  all  over  like  feathers  and  bil 
lets,  with  three  broad  borders,  fair  embrodered 
with  snakes  and  fruitage,  'emblems  of  wisdom 
and  bounty  ;'  "  exhibiting,  even  at  that  day, 
a  fancy  delighting  in  splendour  and  allegory  ; 
and  so  general  was  the  practice,  that  when  Bacon 
applied  to  the  queen  to  be  appointed  solicitor- 
general,  his  application  was  accompanied  by  the 
present  of  a  jewel. 

This  custom  of  making  presents  to  persons  in 
power  was  not  confined  to  the  reigning  monarch, 
but  extended  to  statesmen.  They  were  made,  as 
of  course,  to  Lord  Salisbury,  to  Lord  Burleigh, 
and  to  all  persons  in  office,  and  made  by  the  most 
virtuous  members  of  the  community.  The  same 
custom  extended  to  the  chancellor,  and  to  the 
judges.  In  the  time  of  Henry  the  Sixth  the 
practice  existed.  In  the  time  of  Sir  Thomas 
More,  when  the  custom  seems  to  have  been  wan 
ing,  presents  were,  without  any  offence,  offered  to 
that  righteous  man ;  and  it  is  mentioned  by  the 
biographer  of  Sir  Augustine  Nicholls,  one  of  the 
judges  in  the  time  of  James  the  First,  as  an 
instance  of  his  virtue,  that  "  he  had  exemplary 
integrity,  even  to  the  rejection  of  gratuities  after 
judgment  given,  and  a  charge  to  his  followers  th  U 
they  came  to  their  places  clear-handed,  and  that 
they  should  not  meddle  with  any  motions  to  him, 
that  he  might  be  secured  from  all  appearance  of 
corruption." 

This  custom,  which,  more  or  less,  seems  to 
have  prevailed  at  all  times  in  nations  approaching 
civilization,  was,  about  the  year  15GO,  partially 


Ixviii 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


abolished  in  France  by  the  exertions  of  1'Hopital, 
which  abolition  is  thus  stated  by  Mr.  Butler,  in 
his  life  of  the  chancellor : 

"Another  reformation  in  the  administration  of 
justice,  which  FHopital  wished  to  effect,  was  the 
abolition  of  the  epices,  or  presents  made,  on  some 
occasions,  by  the  parties  in  a  cause  to  the  judges 
by  whom  it  was  tried. 

"A  passage  in  Homer,  where  he  describes  a 
compartment  in  the  shield  of  Achilles,  in  which 
two  talents  of  gold  were  placed  between  two 
judges,  as  the  reward  of  the  best  speaker,  is  ge 
nerally  cited  to  prove  that,  even  in  the  earliest 
times,  the  judges  were  paid  for  their  administra 
tion  of  justice. 

"  Plutarch  mentions,  that,  under  the  administra 
tion  of  Pericles,  the  Athenian  magistrates  were  first 
authorized  to  require  a  remuneration  from  the 
suitors  of  their  courts.  In  ancient  Rome,  the 
magistrates  were  wholly  paid  by  the  public  ;  but 
Justinian  allowed  some  magistrates  of  an  inferior 
description  to  receive  presents,  which  he  limited 
to  a  certain  amount,  from  the  suitors  before  them. 

"  Montesquieu  observes,  that,  '  in  the  early  ages 
of  the  feudal  law,  when  legal  proceedings  were 
short  and  simple,  the  lord  defrayed  the  whole  ex 
pense  of  the  administration  of  justice  in  his  court. 
In  proportion  as  society  became  refined,  a  more 
complex  administration  of  justice  became  neces 
sary  ;  and  it  was  considered  that  not  only  the 
party  who  was  cast  should,  on  account  of  his 
having  instituted  a  bad  cause,  but  that  the  suc 
cessful  party  should,  on  account  of  the  benefit 
which  he  had  derived  from  the  proceedings  of  the 
court,  contribute,  in  some  degree,  to  the  expenses 
attending  them  ;  and  that  the  public,  on  account 
of  the  general  benefit  which  it  derived  from  the 
adminfstration  of  justice,  should  make  up  the  de 
li  ciency.' 

"  To  secure  to  the  judges  the  proportion  which 
the  suitors  were  to  contribute  towards  the  ex 
penses  of  justice,  it  was  provided,  by  an  ordon- 
nancc  of  St.  Louis,  that,  at  the  commencement  of 
a  suit,  each  party  should  deposit  in  court  the 
amount  of  one-tenth  part  of  the  property  in  dis 
pute  :  that  the  tenth  deposited  by  the  unsuccess 
ful  party  should  be  paid  over  to  the  judges  on  their 
passing  sentence  ;  and  that  the  tenth  of  the  sue* 
reissful  party  should  then  be  returned  to  him. 
This  was  varied  by  subsequent  ortfonnances.  In 
sensibly  it  became  a  custom  for  the  successful  party 
to  wait  on  the  judges,  after  sentence  was  passed, 
and,  as  an  acknowledgment  of  their  attention  to 
the  cause,  to  present  them  with  a  box  of  sweet 
meats,  which  was  then  called  epices,  or  spices, 
iiy  degrees,  this  custom  became  a  legal  perquisite 
of  the  judges;  and  it  was  converted  into  a  pre 
sent  of  money,  and  required  by  the  judges  before 
the  cause  came  to  hearing:  Non  ddiberetur 
donee  solventur  species,  say  some  of  the  ancient 
register  of  the  parliaments  of  France.  That 


practice  was  afterwards  abolished ;  the  amount  of 
the  epices  was  regulated ;  and,  in  many  cases, 
the  taking  of  them  was  absolutely  forbidden. 
Speaking  generally,  they  were  not  payable  till 
final  judgment ;  and  if  the  matter  were  not  heard 
in  court,  but  referred  to  a  judge  for  him  to  hear, 
and  report  to  the  court  upon  it,  he  was  entitled  to 
a  proportion  only  of  the  epices,  and  the  other 
judges  were  entitled  to  no  part  of  them.  Those 
among  fche  magistrates  who  were  most  punctual 
and  diligent  in  their  attendance  in  court,  and  the 
discharge  of  their  duty,  had  most  causes  referred 
to  them,  and  were  therefore  richest  in  epices ;  but 
!  the  superior  amount  of  them,  however  it  might 
prove  their  superior  exertions,  added  little  to  their 
fortune,  as  it  did  not  often  exceed  £50,  and  never 
JSlOO  a  year.  The  judges  had  some  other  perqui 
sites,  and  also  some  remuneration  from  govern 
ment  ;  but  the  whole  of  the  perquisites  and  remune 
ration  of  any  judge,  except  those  of  the  presidents, 
amounted  to  little  more  than  the  epices.  The  presi 
dents  of  the  parliament  had  a  higher  remuneration  ; 
but  the  price  which  they  paid  for  their  offices  was 
proportionally  higher,  and  the  whole  amount 
received  by  a  judge  for  his  epices,  perquisites, 
and  other  remunerations,  fell  short  of  the  interest 
of  the  money  which  he  paid  for  the  charge;  so 
that  it  is  generally  true,  that  the  French  judges 
administered  justice  not  only  without  salary,  but 
even  with  some  pecuniary  loss.  Their  real  re 
muneration  was  the  rank  and  consideration  which 
their  office  gave  them  in  society,  and  the  respect 
and  regard  of  their  fellow-citizens.  How  well 
does  this  illustrate  Montesquieu's  aphorism,  that 
the  principle  of  the  French  monarchy  was  honour ! 
It  may  be  truly  said,  that  the  world  has  not  pro 
duced  a  more  learned,  enlightened,  or  honourable 
order  in  society,  than  the  French  magistracy. 

••  Englishmen  are  much  scandalized,  when  they 
i  are  informed  that  the  French  judges  were  per- 
I  sonally  solicited  by  the  suitors  in  court,  their 
families  and  protectors,  and  by  any  other  person 
whom  the  suitors  thought  likely  to  influence  the 
decision  of  the  causes  in  their  favour.  But  it 
all  amounted  to  nothing: — to  all  these  solicita 
tions  the  judges  listened  with  equal  external  reve 
rence  and  internal  indifference ;  and  they  availed 
themselves  of  the  first  moment  when  it  could  be 
done  with  decency,  to  bow  the  parties  respectfully 
out  of  the  room :  it  was  a  corvee  on  their  time 
which  they  most  bitterly  lamented." 

Bacon  had  scarcely  been  an  hour  appointed 
lord  keeper,  when  these  presents  of  gold  and  of 
furniture,  and  of  other  costly  articles,  were  show 
ered  upon  him  by  various  persons,  and,  amongst 
others,  by  the  suitors  of  the  court. 

Immediately  after  his  appointment  as  lord 
keeper,  he  waited  upon  the  late  lord  chancellor 
to  acquit  himself  of  the  debt  of  personal  gratitude 
which  he  owed  to  that  worthy  person,  and  to  ac 
quaint  him  with  his  masters  gracious  intentions 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixix 


to  confer  upon  him  the  title  of  an  earl,  with  a 
pension  for  life  ;  an  honour  which,  as  he  died  on 
the  15th  of  the  month,  before  the  completion  of 
the  arrangements,  was  transferred  to  his  son,  who 
was  created  Earl  of  Bridgewater  by  the  first  pa 
tent  to  which  the  new  lord  keeper  affixed  the  seal. 

On  the  14th  of  March  the  king  quitted  Eng 
land,  to  visit  his  native  country;  and  Sir  Francis 
had  scarcely  been  a  week  raised  to  the  office  of 
lord  keeper,  when  he  was  placed  at  the  head  of 
the  council,  and  intrusted  with  the  management 
of  all  public  affairs. 

The  king  was  accompanied  by  Buckingham, 
who,  in  his  double  capacity  of  prime  minister, 
and  master  of  the  revels,  assisted  with  equal 
readiness  at  the  discussions  which  were  to  direct 
the  nation,  and  the  pastimes  contrived  to  amuse 
the  king.  Graceful  in  all  exercises,  and  a  fine 
dancer,  Buckingham  brought  that  diversion  into 
great  request,  while  his  associates  willingly  lent 
themselves  to  the  devices  which  his  better  taste 
disdained;  for  James  is  said  to  have  loved  such 
representations  and  disguises  as  were  witty  and 
sudden,  the  more  ridiculous  the  more  pleasant. 

The  policy  of  the  favourite  seems  to  be  clear. 
He  had  endeavoured  to  prevent  the  king's  visit ; 
and,  in  surrounding  his  royal  master  with  these 
buffooneries,  he  well  knew  that  he  should  disgust 
the  better  part  of  the  Scottish  nobility,  and  keep 
aloof  all  those  grave  and  wise  councillors,  who 
could  not  recognise,  under  the  disguise  of  a 
masquer,  the  learned  pupil  of  Buchanan,  and  the 
ruler  of  two  kingdoms. 

Through  the  whole  of  this  progress  a  constant 
communication  was  maintained  between  Buck 
ingham  and  the  lord  keeper. 

On  the  7th  of  May,  being  the  first  day  of  term, 
the  lord  keeper  went  in  great  state  to  Westmin 
ster,  in  the  following  order : 

I.  Clerks  and  inferior  officers  in  chancery. 
"2.  Students  in  law. 

3.  Gentlemen  servants  to  the  keeper,  ser- 

geants-at-arms,  and  the  seal-bearer,  all 
on  foot. 

4.  Himself,  on  horseback,   in  a  gown  of 

purple  satin,  between  the  treasurer  and 
the  keeper  of  the  privy  seal. 

5.  Earls,  barons,  and  privy  councillors. 

6.  Noblemen  of  all  ranks. 

7.  Judges,  to  whom  the  next  place  to  the 

privy  councillors  was  assigned. 

In  this  pomp  he  entered  the  hall.  How  differ 
ent  from  the  mode  in  which  his  successor  took 
his  seat ! 

Upon  the  lord  keeper's  entrance,  he,  in  the  pre 
sence  of  so  many  honourable  witnesses,  addressed 
the  bar,  stating  the  nature  of  the  charge  which 
had  been  given  to  him  by  the  king,  when  he  was 
intrusted  with  the  great  seal,  and  the  modes  by 
which,  under  the  protection  of  God,  it  was  his 


intention  to  obey  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  his 
majesty's  righteous  commandments. 

With  respect  to  the  excess  of  jurisdiction,  or 
tumour  of  the  court,  which  was  the  first  admoni 
tion,  the  lord  keeper  dilated  upon  all  the  causes 
of  excess,  and  concluded  with  an  assurance  of 
his  temperate  use  of  authority,  and  his  conviction 
that  the  health  of  a  court  as  well  as  of  a  body 
consisted  in  temperance. 

With  respect  to  the  cautious  sealing  of  patents, 
which  was  the  second  admonition,  the  lord  keeper 
having  stated  six  principal  cases  in  which  this 
caution  was  peculiarly  requisite,  and  to  which 
he  declared  that  his  attention  should  be  directed, 
thus  concluded:  "And  your  lordships  see  in 
this  matter  of  the  seal,  and  his  majesty's  royal 
commandment  concerning  the  same,  I  mean  to 
walk  in  the  light,  so  that  men  may  know  where 
to  find  me ;  and  this  publishing  thereof  plainly, 
I  hope  will  save  the  king  from  a  great  deal  of 
abuse,  and  me  from  a  great  deal  of  envy  ;  when 
men  shall  see  that  no  particular  turn  or  end  leads 
me,  but  a  general  rule. 

With  respect  to  speedy  justice,  which  was  the 
third  admonition,  and  upon  which,  in  his  essays 
on  "  Delay  and  Despatch,"  it  appears  that  he  had 
maturely  deliberated,  he  explained  the  nature  of 
true  and  affected  despatch ;  and,  having  divided 
delays,  into  the  delays  of  the  judge  and  of  the 
suitor,  he  said,  "  For  myself,  I  am  resolved  that 
my  decree  shall  come  speedily,  if  not  instantly 
after  the  hearing,  and  my  signed  decree  speedily 
upon  my  decree  pronounced.  For  fresh  justice  is 
the  sweetest;  and  to  the  end  that  there  be  no 
delay  of  justice,  nor  any  other  means-making  or 
labouring,  but  the  labouring  of  the  counsel  at  the 
bar. 

"Again,  because  justice  is  a  sacred  thing,  and 
the  end  for  which  I  am  called  to  this  place,  and 
therefore  is  my  way  to  heaven;  and  if  it  be 
shorter,  it  is  never  a  whit  the  worse,  I  shall,  by 
the  grace  of  God,  as  far  as  God  will  give  me 
strength,  add  the  afternoon  to  the  forenoon,  and 
some  fourth  night  of  the  vacation  to  the  term,  for 
the  expediting  and  clearing  of  the  causes  of  the 
court;  only  the  depth  of  the  three  long  vacations 
I  would  reserve  in  some  measure  free  from  busi 
ness  of  estate,  and  for  studies,  arts,  and  sciences, 
to  which  in  my  own  nature  I  am  most  inclined. 

"There  is  another  point  of  true  expedition, 
which  resteth  much  in  myself,  and  that  is  in  my 
manner  of  giving  orders.  For  I  have  seen  an 
affectation  of  despatch  turn  utterly  to  delay  at 
length :  for  the  manner  of  it  is  to  take  the  tale  out 
of  the  counsellor  at  the  bar  his  mouth,  and  to  give 
a  cursory  order,  nothing  tending  or  conducing  to 
the  end  of  the  business.  It  makes  me  remember 
what  I  heard  one  say  of  a  judge  that  sat  in  chan 
cery  ;  that  he  would  make  forty  orders  in  a  morn 
ing  out  of  the  way,  and  it  was  out  of  the  way 
indeed  ;  for  it  was  nothing  to  the  end  of  the  busi 


Ixx 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


;  and  this  is  that  which  makes  sixty,  eighty, 
a  hundred  orders  in  a  cause,  to  and  fro,  begetting 
one  another;  and,  like  Penelope's  web,  doing  and 
undoing.  But  I  mean  noi  to  purchase  the  praise 
of  expeditive  in  that  kind;  but  as  one  that  have  a 
feeling  of  my  duty,  and  of  the  case  of  others.  My 
endeavour  shall  be  to  hear  patiently,  and  to  cast 
my  order  into  such  a  mould  as  may  soonest  bring 
the  subject  to  the  end  of  his  journey." 

And  as  to  the  delays  of  the  suitor,  he  thus 
concluded  :  "  By  the  grace  of  God,  I  will  make 
injunctions  but  a  hard  pillow  to  sleepers  ;  for  if  I 
find  that  he  prosecutes  not  with  effect,  he  may, 
perhaps,  when  he  is  awake,  find  not  only  his 
injunction  dissolved,  but  his  cause  dismissed." 

With  respect  to  the  last  admonition,  that  justice 
should  not  be  obstructed  by  unnecessary  expense, 
he  expressed  his  determination  to  diminish  all 
expense,  saying  in  substance  what  he  had  said  in 
his  essay  on  Judicature  :  "  The  place  of  justice  is 
a  hallowed  place ;  and  therefore  not  only  the 
bench,  but  the  foot-pace,  and  precincts,  and  pur- 
prise  thereof  ought  to  be  preserved  without  scan 
dal  and  corruption;  for,  certainly,  'grapes  (as 
the  Scripture  saith)  will  not  be  gathered  of  thorns 
or  thistles ;'  neither  can  justice  yield  her  fruit  with 
sweetness  amongst  the  briers  and  brambles  of 
catching  and  polling  clerks  and  ministers ;  which 
justifies  the  common  resemblance  of  the  courts  of 
justice  to  the  bush,  whereunto,  while  the  sheep 
Hies  for  defence  in  weather,  he  is  sure  to  lose  part 
of  his  fleece." 

He  concludes  his  address  with  some  observa 
tions  upon  projected  improvements  in  the  practice 
of  the  court,  and  his  intention  to  frame  ordinances 
for  its  better  regulation.  "  My  lords,"  he  added, 
"  I  have  no  more  to  say,  but  now  1  will  go  on  to 
business." 

Upon  his  retirement  from  the  court  he  commu 
nicated  to  Buckingham,  then  at  Edinburgh,  an 
account  of  the  day's  proceedings,  in  a  letter,  say 
ing,  "Yesterday  I  took  my  place  in  chancery, 
which  I  hold  only  from  the  king's  grace  and 
favour,  and  your  constant  friendship.  There  was 
much  ado,  and  a  great  deal  of  world.  But  this 
matter  of  pomp,  which  is  heaven  to  some  men,  is 
hell  to  me,  or  purgatory  at  least.  It  is  true  I  was 
glad  to  see  that  the  king's  choice  was  so  generally 
approved,  and  that  I  had  so  much  interest  in  men's 
good  wills  and  good  opinions,  because  it  maketh 
me  the  fitter  instrument  to  do  my  master  service, 
and  my  friend  also. 

"After  I  was  set  in  chancery,  I  published  his 
majesty's  charge,  which  he  gave  me  when  he 
gave  me  the  seal,and  what  rules  and  resolutions  I 
had  taken  for  the  fulfilling  his  commandments. 
I  send  your  lordship  a  copy  of  that  I  said.  Men 
tell  me,  it  hath  done  the  king  a  great  deal  of 
honour ;  insomuch  that  some  of  my  friends,  that 
are  wise  men  and  no  vain  ones,  did  not  stick  to 
say  *o  me,  that  there  was  not  these  seven  years 


such  a  preparation  for  a  parliament ;  which  was  a 
commendation,  I  confess,  pleased  me  well.  I  pray 
take  some  fit  time  to  show  it  his  majesty,  because, 
if  I  misunderstood  him  in  any  thing,  I  may  amend 
it,  because  I  know  his  judgment  is  higher  and 
deeper  than  mine." 

The  approbation  of  the  king  was  immediately 
communicated  by  Buckingham. 

Before  the  king's  departure  for  Scotland  he  had 
appointed  commissioners  for  managing  the  treaty 
of  marriage  between  the  prince  his  son  and  the 
Infanta  of  Spain.  The  lord  keeper,  who  had  too 
much  wisdom  not  to  perceive  the  misfortunes 
which  would  result  from  this  union,  prudently  and 
honestly  advised  the  king  not  to  proceed  with  the 
treaty,  stating  the  difficulties  which  had  already 
occurred  from  a  disunited  council ;  but  the  king 
fell  into  the  snare  which  the  politic  Gondoinar 
had  prepared  for  him,  and  persisted  to  negotiate- 
an  alliance,  in  opposition  to  his  own  interests,  the 
advice  of  his  ablest  councillors,  and  the  universal 
voice  of  his  people.  A  more  unequal  game  could 
not  be  played,  than  between  the  childish  cunning 
of  this  blundering,  obstinate,  good-humoured  king, 
and  the  diplomacy  of  the  smooth,  intellectual, 
determined  Gondomar,  graceful,  supple,  and  fatal 
as  a  serpent. 

Bacon,  who  was  fully  aware  of  the  envy  which 
pursued  his  advancement,  was  careful  to  transmit 
an  exact  account  of  his  proceedings,  and,  in 
despatches  which  appeared  only  to  contain  a 
narrative  of  passing  events,  conveyed  to  the  king 
and  his  favourite  many  sound  maxims  of  state 
policy.  His  royal  master,  who  was  not  insensi 
ble  of  his  services,  greatly  commended  him,  and 
Buckingham  expressed  his  own  admiration  of  tho 
wisdom  and  prudence  of  his  counsels. 

This  sunshine  was,  however,  soon  after  clouded 
by  a  circumstance,  which  is  worth  noting  only  as 
it  shows  the  temper  of  the  times,  and  the  mise 
rable  subjection  in  which  the  favourite  held  all 
persons,  however  eminent  in  talent  or  station. 
Sir  Edward  Coke,  who  had  been  disgraced  the 
year  before,  unable  to  bear  retirement,  aggravated, 
as  it  was,  by  the  success  of  his  rival,  applied, 
during  the  king's  absence,  to  Secretary  Wimvood, 
submissively  desiring  to  be  restored  to  favour ; 
and  he,  who,  in  support  of  the  law,  had  resisted 
the  king  to  his  face,  and  had  rejected  with  scorn 
the  proposal  of  an  alliance  with  the  family  of 
Buckingham,  now  offered  "to  do  any  thing  that 
was  required  of  him,"  and  to  promote,  upon  their 
own  terms,  the  marriage  of  his  daughter  with  Sir 
John  Villiers.  Winwood,  who,  for  party  purposes, 
was  supposed  to  enter  officiously  into  this  business, 
readily  undertook  the  negotiation.  It  was  not- 
attended  with  much  difficulty  :  the  young  lady, 
beautiful  and  opulent,  was  instantly  accepted. 

Bacon,  for  man}''  cogent  reasons,  which  he 
fairly  expressed  both  to  the  king  and  to  Bucking 
ham,  strongly  opposed  this  match,  displeasing  t*> 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixxi 


the  political  friends  of  Buckingham,  and  fraught 
with  bitterness  from  the  opposition  of  Lady  Hat- 
ton,  the  young  lady's  mother,  upon  whom  her 
fortune  mainly  depended.  Bacon's  dislike  to 
Coke,  and  the  possible  consequences  to  himself 
from  this  alliance,  were  supposed  by  Buck 
ingham  to  have  influenced  this  unwise  in 
terference;  which  he  resented,  first  by  a  cold 
silence,  and  afterwards  by  several  haughty  and 
bitter  letters:  and  so  effectually  excited  the 
king's  displeasure,  that,  on  his  return,  he  sharply 
reprimanded  in  the  privy  council  those  persons 
who  had  interfered  in  this  business.  Bucking 
ham,  who  could  show  his  power,  as  well  in  al 
laying  as  in  raising  a  storm,  was  soon  ashamed 
of  the  king's  violence,  and,  seeing  the  ridicule 
that  must  arise  from  his  inflating  a  family  quarrel 
into  a  national  grievance,  interceded  "  on  his 
knees"  for  Bacon.  A  reconciliation,  of  course, 
took  place,  but  not  without  disgrace  to  all  the 
parties  concerned  ;  exhibiting  on  the  one  part  un 
becoming  violence,  and  on  the  other  the  most 
abject  servility.  The  marriage,  which  had 
occasioned  so  much  strife,  was  solemnized  at  the 
close  of  the  month  of  September ;  and  Sir  Ed 
ward  Coke  was  recalled  to  the  council  table, 
where,  after  the  death  of  Winwood,  he  did  not 
long  keep  his  seat. 

This  storm  having  subsided,  the  lord  keeper 
turned  his  attention  to  the  subject  of  finance,  and 
endeavoured  to  bring  the  government  expenses, 
now  called  the  civil  list,  within  the  compass  of 
the  ordinary  revenue  ;  a  measure  more  necessary, 
since  there  had  never  been  any  disposition  in  par 
liament  to  be  as  liberal  to  James  as  to  his  illus 
trious  predecessor. 

The  difficulties  which  the  council  met  in  the 
projected  retrenchments,  from  the  officers  of  state 
whose  interests  were  affected,  confirmed  the  re 
mark  of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  "  that  the  reformation 
of  a  king's  household  is  a  thing  more  fit  to  be 
done  than  successfully  attempted:"  This  did  not 
discourage  the  lord  keeper,  who  went  manfully 
to  the  work,  and  wrote  freely  to  Buckingham  and 
to  the  king  himself,  upon  the  necessity  both  of 
striking  at  the  root,  and  lopping  off  the  branches ; 
of  considering  whether  Ireland,  instead  of  being  a 
burden  to  England,  ought  not,  in  a  great  measure, 
to  support  itself;  and  of  diminishing  household 
expenses,  and  -abridging  pensions  and  gratuities. 

Notwithstanding  these  efforts  to  retrench  all 
unnecessary  expenditure  in  the  household,  the 
pecuniary  distresses  of  the  king  were  so  great, 
that  expedients,  from  which  he  ought  to  have 
been  protected  by  the  Commons,  were  adopted, 
and  the  grant  of  patents  and  infliction  of  fines  was 
made  a  profitable  source  of  revenue  :  although 
Bacon  had,  upon  the  death  of  Salisbury,  ear 
nestly  prayed  the  king  "  not  to  descend  to  any 
means,  or  degree  of  means,  which  cometh  not 
of  a  symmetry  with  his  majesty  and  greatness. 


While  these  exactions  disclosed  to  the  people 
the  king's  poverty,  they  could  daily  observe  his 
profuse  expenditure  and  lavish  bounty  to  his  fa 
vourite  ;  recourse,  therefore,  was  had  to  Bucking 
ham  by  all  suitors  ;  but  neither  the  distresses  of 
the  king,  nor  the  power  of  the  favourite,  deterred 
the  lord  keeper  from  staying  grants  and  patents, 
when  his  public  duty  demanded  this  interposi 
tion  :  an  interference  which,  if  Buckingham 
really  resented,  he  concealed  his  displeasure; 
as,  so  far  from  expressing  himself  with  his  usual 
haughtiness,  he  thanked  his  friend,  telling  him  that 
he  "  desired  nothing  should  pass  the  seal  except 
what  was  just  or  convenient." 

On  the  4th  of  January,  1618,  the  lord  keeper 
was  created  Lord  High  Chancellor  of  England, 
and,  in  July,  Baron  of  Verularn,  to  which,  as 
stated  in  the  preamble  to  the  patent  of  nobility, 
witnessed  by  the  Prince  of  Wales,  Duke  of 
Lenox,  and  many  of  the  first  nobility,  the  king 
was  "  moved  by  the  grateful  sense  he  had  of  the 
many  faithful  services  rendered  him  by  this 
worthy  person."  In  the  beginning  of  the  same 
year  the  Earl  of  Buckingham  was  raised  to  the 
degree  of  marquis. 

In  August,  1018,  the  lord  keeper,  with  a  due 
sense  of  the  laudable  intentions  of  the  founder, 
stayed  a  patent  for  the  foundation  of  Dulwich 
College,  from  the  conviction  that  education  was 
the  best  charity,  and  would  be  best  promoted  by 
the  foundation  of  lectures  in  the  university.  This, 
his  favourite  opinion,  which  he,  when  solicitor- 
general,  had  expressed  in  his  tract  upon  Sutton's 
Hospital,  and  renewed  in  his  will,  was  immedi 
ately  communicated  to  Buckingham,  to  whom  he 
suggested  that  part  of  the  founder's  bounty  ought 
to  be  appropriated  to  the  advancement  of  learning. 

Firm,  however,  as  Bacon  was  with  respect  to 
patents,  his  wishes,  as  a  politician,  to  relieve  the 
distresses  of  the  king,  seem  to  have  had  some 
tendency  to  influence  his  mind  as  a  judge.  In 
one  of  his  letters  he  expresses  his  anxiety  to  ac- 
cellerate  the  prosecution,  saying,  "  it  might,  if 
wind  and  weather  permit,  come  to  hearing  in  the 
term;"  and  in  another  he  says,  "the  evidence 
went  well,  and  I  will  not  say  I  sometimes  helped 
it  as  far  as  was  fit  for  a  judge." 

So  true  is  it,  as  Bacon  himself  had  taught,  that 
a  judge  ought  to  be  of  a  retired  nature,  and  uncon 
nected  with  politics.  So  certain  is  the  injury  to 
the  administration  of  justice,  from  the  attempt  to 
blend  the  irreconcileable  characters  of  judge  and 
politician :  the  judge  unbending  as  the  oak,  the 
politician  pliant  as  the  osier:  the  judge  firm 
and  constant,  the  same  to  all  men ;  the  politi 
cian,  ever  varying, 

"  Orpheus  in  sylvis,  inter  delphinas  Arion." 

It  was,  about  this  time,  discovered  that  several 
Dutch  merchants  of  great  opulence  had  exported 
gold  and  silver  to  the  amount  of  some  millions 


Ixxii 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


There  are  various  letters  extant  upon  this  subject, 
exhibiting  the  king's  pecuniary  distresses,  his 
rash  facility  in  making  promises,  and  the  discon 
tent  felt  by  the  people  at  his  improvidence,  and 
partiality  for  his  own  countrymen. 

Though  evidently  rejoicing  at  this  windfall  for 
his  royal  master,  Bacon,  regardless  of  the  impor 
tunities  of  the  attorney-general,  refused  to  issue 
writes  of  ne  exeat  against  the  merchants  till  he 
had  obtained  evidence  to  warrant  his  interposition, 
and  cautioned  his  majesty  against  granting  the 
forfeitures  accruing  from  this  discovery.  He  en 
treated  that  a  commission  might  be  formed,  im- 
powering  Sir  E.  Coke,  the  chancellor  of  the  ex 
chequer,  the  lord  chief  justice,  and  himself,  to 
investigate  this  matter.  These  observations 
were  well  received,  and  immediately  adopted  by 
the  king;  and  although  informations  were  filed 
against  a  hundred  and  eighty,  only  twenty  of  the 
principal  merchants  were  tried  and  convicted. 
They  were  fined  to  the  amount  of  £100,000, 
which,  by  the  intercession  of  Buckingham,  was 
afterwards  remitted  to  about  £30,000.  The  rest 
of  the  prosecutions  were  stayed  at  his  instance, 
intercession  having  been  made  to  him  by  letters 
from  the  States-General,  and  probably  by  the 
merchants  themselves,  in  the  way  in  which  he 
was  usually  approached  by  applicants. 

While  this  cause  was  pending,  the  Earl  of 
Suffolk,  lord  treasurer,  was  prosecuted,  with 
his  lady,  in  the  Star  Chamber,  for  trafficking 
with  the  public  money  to  the  amount  of  £50,000  ; 
and  they  were  sentenced  to  imprisonment  and 
fine,  not,  according  to  the  judgment  of  Sir 
Edward  Coke,  of  £100,000,  but  of  £30,000. 
Bacon  commended  Coke  to  the  king,  as  having 
done  his  part  excellently,  but  pursued  his  own 
constant  course,  activity  in  detecting  the  offence, 
and  moderation  in  punishing  the  offender.  After 
a  short  confinement  they  were  released  at  the  in 
tercession  of  Buckingham,  and  the  fine  reduced  to 
£7,000. 

The  motives  by  which  Buckingham  was  influ 
enced  in  this  and  similar  remissions,  may  possibly 
be  collected  from  his  conduct  in  the  advance 
ment  of  Lord  Chief  Justice  Montagu,  who,  fora 
sum  of  £20,000,  was  appointed  to  the  treasurer- 
ship,  vacated  by  the  removal  of  Lord  Suffolk,  and 
was  created  a  peer ;  for  which  offence  this  dis 
penser  of  the  king's  favours  was,  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  the  First,  impeached  by  the  Commons  ; 
but  he,  after  the  death  of  Bacon  and  of  the  king, 
solemnly  denied  the  accusation,  by  protesting 
"  that  the  sum  was  a  voluntary  loan  to  the  king 
by  the  lord  treasurer,  after  his  promotion,  and  not 
an  advance  to  obtain  the  appointment." 

Such  were  the  occupations  to  which  this  phi 
losopher  was  doomed ;  occupations  which,  even 
AS  chancellor,  he  regretted,  saying,  most  truly, 
"  I  know  these  things  do  not  pertain  to  me  ;  for 
;ay  pait  is  to  acquit  the  king's  office  towards 


God,  in  the  maintenance  of  the  prerogative,  and 
to  oblige  the  hearts  of  the  people  to  him  by  the 
administration  of  justice." 

From  these  political  expedients  he  turned  to  his 
more  interesting  judicial  duties.  How  strenuous 
ly  he  exerted  himself  in  the  discharge  of  them 
may  be  seen  in  his  honest  exultation  to  Buck 
ingham,  and  may  be  easily  conceived  by  those 
who  know  how  indefatigable  genius  is  in  any 
business  in  which  it  is  interested  :  how  ardent 
and  strenuous  it  is  in  encountering  and  subduing 
all  difficulties  to  which  it  is  opposed. 

In  a  letter  to  Buckingham,  of  the  8th  of  June, 
1617,  he  says,  "  This  day  I  have  made  even  with 
the  business  of  the  kingdom  for  common  justice  ; 
not  one  cause  unheard ;  the  lawyers  drawn  dry  of 
all  the  motions  they  were  to  make ;  not  one  peti 
tion  unanswered.  And  this,  I  think,  could  not 
be  said  in  our  age  before.  This  I  speak,  not  out 
of  ostentation,  but  out  of  gladness,  when  I  have 
done  my  duty.  I  know  men  think  I  cannot  con 
tinue  if  I  should  thus  oppress  myself  with  busi 
ness  :  but  that  account  is  made.  The  duties  of 
life  are  more  than  life  ;  and  if  I  die  now,  I  shall 
die  before  the  world  be  weary  of  me,  which  in 
our  times  is  somewhat  rare."  And  in  two  other 
letters  he,  from  the  same  cause,  expresses  the 
same  joy. 

These  exertions  did  not  secure  him  from  the 
interference  of  Buckingham,  or  protect  him,  as 
they  have  never  protected  judge,  from  misrepre 
sentation  and  calumny ;  but,  unmoved  by  friend 
ship  or  by  slander,  he  went  right  onward  in  his 
course.  He  acted  as  he  taught,  from  the  convic 
tion,  that  "a  popular  judge  is  a  deformed  thing : 
and  plaudits  are  fitter  for  players  than  magis 
trates.  Do  good  to  the  people,  love  them,  and 
give  them  justice,  but  let  it  be  'nihil  inde  ex- 
pectantes  ;'  looking  for  nothing,  neither  praise  nor 
profit." 

Notwithstanding  Bacon's  warning  to  Buck 
ingham,  that  he  ought  not,  as  a  statesman, 
to  interfere,  either  by  word  or  letter,  in  any 
cause  depending,  or  like  to  be  depending  in 
any  court  of  justice,  the  temptations  to  Buck 
ingham  were,  it  seems,  too  powerful  to  induce 
him  to  attend  to  this  admonition,  in  resist 
ance  of  a  custom  so  long  established  and  so 
deeply  seated,  that  the  applications  were,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  made  to  statesmen  and  to  judges, 
by  the  most  respectable  members  of  the  commu 
nity,  and  by  the  two  universities. 

Early  in  March,  Sir  Francis  was  appointed  lord 
keeper,  and,  on  the  4th  of  April,  Buckingham 
thus  wrote:  "My  honourable  lord: — Whereas 
the  late  lord  chancellor  thought  it  fit  to  dis 
miss  out  of  the  chancery  a  cause  touching  Henry 
Skipwith  to  the  common  law,  where  he  desireth  it 
should  be  decided;  these  are  to  entreat  your 
lordship  in  the  gentleman's  favour,  that  if  the  ad 
verse  party  sh»<l  attempt  to  bring  it  now  back 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixxiii 


again  into  your  lordship's  court,  you  would  not 
retain  it  there,  but  let  it  rest  in  the  place  where 
now  it  is,  that  without  more  vexation  unto  him  in 
posting  him  from  one  to  another,  he  may  have  a 
final  hearing  and  determination  thereof.  And  so 
I  rest  your  lordship's  ever  at  command, 

"G.  BUCKINGHAM. 

"  My  lord,  this  is  a  business  wherein  I  spake 
to  my  lord  chancellor,  whereupon  he  dismissed 
the  suit." 

Scarcely  a  week  passed  without  a  repetition  of 
these  solicitations. 

When  Sir  Francis  was  first  intrusted  with  the 
great  seal,  he  found  a  cause  entitled  Fisher  v. 
Wraynham,  which  had  been  in  the  court  from  the 
year  1606.  He  immediately  examined  the  pro 
ceedings,  and,  having  ordered  the  attendance  of 
the  parties,  and  heard  the  arguments  of  counsel, 
he  terminated  this  tedious  suit,  by  decreeing 
against  the  defendant  Wraynham,  who  was  a 
man  described  as  holding  a  smooth  pen  and  a  fine 
speech,  but  a  fiery  spirit.  He  immediately  pub 
lished  a  libel  against  the  chancellor  and  the  late 
master  of  the  rolls  :  for  which  he  was  prosecuted 
in  the  Star  Chamber. 

Sir  Henry  Yelverton,  in  stating  the  case,  said, 
"  I  was  of  counsel  with  Mr.  Wraynham,  and 
pressed  his  cause  as  far  as  equity  would  suffer. 
But  this  gentleman  being  of  an  unquiet  spirit, 
after  a  secret  murmuring,  breaks  out  in  a  com 
plaint  to  his  majesty,  and  not  staying  his  return 
out  of  Scotland,  but  fancying  to  himself,  as  if  he 
saw  some  cloud  arising  over  my  lord,  compiled 
his  undigested  thoughts  into  a  libel,  and  fastens 
it  on  the  king.  And  his  most  princely  majesty 
finding  it  stuffed  with  most  bitter  reviling 
speeches  against  so  great  and  worthy  a  judge, 
hath  of  himself  commanded  me  this  day  to  set 
forth  and  manifest  his  fault  unto  your  lordships, 
that  so  he  might  receive  deserved  punishment. 
In  this  pamphlet  Mr.  Wraynham  saith,  he  had 
two  decrees  in  the  first  lord  chancellor's  time, 
and  yet  are  both  cancelled  by  this  lord  chancel 
lor  in  a  preposterous  manner:  without  cause; 
without  matter ;  without  any  legal  proceedings; 
without  precedent,  upon  the  party's  bare  sugges 
tions,  and  without  calling  Mr.  Wraynham  to  an 
swer:  to  reward  Fisher's  fraud  and  perjuries;  to 
palliate  his  unjust  proceedings;  and  to  confound 
Wraynham's  estate :  and  that  my  lord  was  therein 
led  by  the  rule  of  his  own  fancy.  But  he  stayeth 
not  here.  Not  content  to  scandalize  the  living,  he 
vilifies  the  dead,  the  master  of  the  rolls,  a  man  of 
great  understanding,  great  pains,  great  experience, 
great  dexterity,  and  of  great  integrity ;  yet,  because 
he  followed  not  this  man's  humour  in  the  report 
thereof,  he  brands  him  with  aspersions." 

And  Mr.  Sergeant  Crowe,  who  was  also  counsel 
for  the  prosecution,  said,  "  Mr.  Wraynham,  thus 
to  traduce  my  lord,  is  a  foul  offence  ;  you  cannot 
traduce  him  of  corruption,  for,  thanks  be  to  God, 

VOL.  I.-— (10) 


he  hath  always  despised  riches,  and  set  honour 
and  justice  before  his  eyes.  My  lords,  I  was  of 
counsel  with  Fisher,  and  I  knew  the  merits  of  the 
cause,  for  my  lord  chancellor  seeing  what  recom 
pense  Fisher  ought  in  justice  to  have  received, 
and  finding  a  disability  in  Wraynham  to  perform 
it,  was  enforced  to  take  the  land  from  Wraynham 
to  give  it  to  Fisher,  which  is  hardly  of  value  to 
satisfy  Fisher's  true  debt  and  damages." 

Wraynham  was  convicted  by  the  unanimous 
opinion  of  the  court;  and  the  Archbishop  of  Can 
terbury,  in  delivering  his  judgment,  said,  "  The 
fountain  of  wisdom  hath  set  this  glorious  work 
of  the  world  in  the  order  and  beauty  wherein  it 
stands,  and  hath  appointed  princes,  magistrates, 
and  judges,  to  hear  the  causes  of  the  people.  It 
is  fitting,  therefore,  to  protect  them  from  the  slan 
ders  of  wicked  men,  that  shall  speak  evil  of  ma 
gistrates  and  men  in  authority,  blaspheming  them. 
And  therefore,  since  Wraynham  hath  blasphemed 
and  spoken  evil,  and  slandered  a  chief  magistrate, 
it  remaineth,  that  in  honour  to  God,  and  in  duty 
to  the  king  and  kingdom,  he  should  receive 
severe  punishment." 

According  to  the  custom  of  the  times,  a  suit  of 
hangings  for  furniture,  worth  about  £160,  was 
presented  to  the  lord  chancellor,  on  behalf  of 
Fisher,  by  Mr.  Shute,  who,  with  Sir  Henry  Yel 
verton,  was  one  of  his  counsel  in  the  cause. 

This  present  was  not  peculiar  to  the  cause 
Wraynham  and  Fisher,  but  presents  on  behalf  of 
the  respective  suitors  were  publicly  made  by  the 
counsel  in  the  cause,  and  were  offered  by  the 
most  Virtuous  members  of  the  community,  with 
out  their  having,  or  being  supposed  to  have  any 
influence  upon  the  judgment  of  the  court. 

In  the  cause  of  Rowland  Egerton  and  Edward 
Egerton,  £400  was  presented  before  the  award 
was  made,  on  behalf  of  Edward,  by  the  counsel 
in  the  cause,  Sir  Richard  Young  and  Sir  George 
Hastings,  who  was  also  a  member  of  the  house 
of  commons,  but  the  lord  keeper  decided  against 
him  :  and  £300  was  presented  on  behalf  of  Row 
land,  after  the  award  was  made  in  his  favour  by 
the  chancellor  and  Lord  Hobart;  and  in  the  cause 
of  Awbrey  and  Bronker,  £100  was  presented  on 
behalf  of  Awbrey,  before  the  decree,  by  his 
counsel,  Sir  George  Hastings,  and  a  severe  decree 
was  made  against  Awbrey. 

In  a  reference  between  the  company  of  grocers 
and  apothecaries,  the  grocers  presented  £200,  and 
the  apothecaries  a  taster  of  gold,  and  a  present 
of  ambergris. 

In  the  cause  of  Hody  and  Hody,  which  was  for 
a  great  inheritance,  a  present  of  gold  buttons, 
worth  about  £50,  was  given  by  Sir  Thomas 
Perrot,  one  of  the  counsel  in  the  cause,  after  tho 
suit  was  ended. 

This  slander  of  Wraynham's  was  not  the  only 
evil  to  which  he  was  exposed. 

On  the  12th  of  November,  1616,  John  Bertram, 


Ixxiv 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


a  suitor  in  chancery,  being  displeased  with  a  re 
port  made  by  Sir  John  Tindal,  one  of  the  masters 
of  the  court,  shot  him  dead  as  he  was  alighting 
from  his  carriage,  and,  upon  his  committal  to 
prison,  he  destroyed  himself.  An  account  of  this 
murder  was  published  under  the  superintendence 
of  Sir  Francis,  to  counteract  the  erroneous  opinions 
which  had  been  circulated  through  the  country, 
and  the  false  commiseration  which  the  misery 
of  this  wretched  offender  had  excited,  in  times 
when  the  community  was  alive  to  hear  any  slan 
der  against  the  administration  of  justice. 

When  the  morbid  feeling  of  insane  minds  is 
awakened,  there  is  always  some  chance  of  a  re 
petition  of  its  outrages.  Towards  the  end  of  the 
year  the  lord  keeper  was  in  danger  of  sharing  the 
fate  of  Sir  John  Tindal,  from  the  vindictive 
temper  of  Lord  Clifton,  against  whom  a  decree 
had  been  made,  who  declared  publicly  that  "  he 
was  sorry  he  had  not  stabbed  the  lord  keeper  in 
his  chair  the  moment  he  pronounced  judgment." 
As  soon  as  this  misguided  suitor,  who  afterwards 
destroyed  himself,  was  corr  Bitted  to  the  tower, 
Bacon  wrote  to  Buckingnam,  saying,  "  I  pray 
your  lordship  in  humbleness  to  let  his  majesty 
know  that  I  little  fear  the  Lord  Clifton,  but  I 
much  fear  the  example,  that  it  will  animate  ruf 
fians  and  rodomonti  extremely  against  the  seats 
of  justice,  which  are  his  majesty's  own  seats, 
yea,  and  against  all  authority  and  greatness,  if 
this  pass  without  public  censure  and  example,  it 
having  gone  already  so  far  as  that  the  person  of 
a  baron  hath  been  committed  to  the  Tower.  The 
punishment  it  may  please  his  majesty  to  remit, 
and  I  shall,  not  formally  but  heartily,  intercede  for 
him,  but  an  example,  setting  myself  aside,  I  wish 
for  terror  of  persons  that  may  be  more  dangerous 
than  he,  towards  the  first  judge  of  the  kingdom." 

Not  content  with  discharging  the  common 
duties  of  a  judge,  he  laboured,  whenever  an  op 
portunity  offered,  to  improve  the  administration 
of  justice. 

lie  carried  into  effect  the  proposal,  which, 
when  attorney-general,  he  had  submitted  to  the 
king,  that  two  legal  reporters,  with  an  annual 
stipend  to  each  of  .£100,  should  be  appointed. 
He  realized  the  intention,  which  he  expressed 
upon  taking  his  seat,  by  issuing  ordinances  for 
the  better  administration  of  justice  in  the  chan 
cery,  upon  which  the  practice  of  the  court  at  this 
day  is  founded.  Before  the  circuits  he  assembled 
the  judges,  and  explained  his  views  of  their 
duties,  when  they,  as  the  planets  of  the  kingdom, 
were  representing  their  sovereign,  in  the  adminis 
tration  of  law  and  justice; — to  advance  kind  feel 
ing  and  familiar  intercourse,  he  introduced  a  mode, 
at  that  time  not  usual,  of  inviting  the  judges  to 
dinner;  thus  manifesting,  as  he  says  in  a  letter  to 
Lord  Burleigh,  that  it  is  ever  a  part  of  wisdom 
not  to  exclude  inferior  matters  of  access  amongst 


the  care  of  great :  and,  upon  the  promotion  of  any 
judge,  he  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to 
explain  the  nature  of  judicial  virtues,  of  which  an 
extensive  outline  may  be  seen  in  his  works. 

"  The  judge  is  a  man  of  ability,  drawing  his 
learning  out  of  his  books,  and  not  out  of  his  brain ; 
rather  learned  than  ingenious ;  more  plausible 
than  witty ;  more  reverend  than  plausible.  He  is 
a  man  of  gravity ;  of  a  retired  nature,  and  uncon 
nected  with  politics  :  his  virtues  are  inlaid,  not 
embossed. — He  is  more  advised  than  confident. 
— He  has  a  right  understanding  of  justice,  depend 
ing  not  so  much  on  reading  other  men's  writings,  as 
upon  the  goodness  of  his  own  natural  reason  and 
meditation. — He  is  of  sound  judgment ;  not  di 
verted  from  the  truth  by  the  strength  of  immedi 
ate  impression. — He  is  a  man  of  integrity  : — of 
well  regulated  passions ;  beyond  the  influence 
either  of  anger,  by  which  he  may  be  incapable  of 
judging,  or  of  hope,  either  of  money  or  of  worldly 
advancement,  by  which  he  may  decide  unjustly  ; 
or  of  fear,  either  of  the  censure  of  others,  which 
is  cowardice,  or  of  giving  pain  when  it  ought  to  be 
given,  which  is  improper  compassion. — He  is 
just  both  in  private  and  in  public. — He  without 
solicitation  accepts  the  office,  with  a  sense  of 
public  duty- — He  is  patient  in  hearing,  in  inquiry, 
and  in  insult;  quick  in  apprehension,  slow  in 
anger. — His  determination  to  censure  is  always 
painful  to  him,  like  Cajsar,  when  he  threatened 
Metellus  with  instant  death,  'Adolescens,  durius 
est  mihi  hoc  dicere  quam  facere.' — He  does  not 
affect  the  reputation  of  despatch,  nor  forget  that 
an  over-speaking  judge  is  no  well-tuned  cymbal. 
— He  is  diligent  in  discovering  the  merits  of  the 
cause:  by  his  own  exertions;  from  the  witness, 
and  the  advocates. — He  is  cautious  in  his  judg 
ment;  not  forming  a  hasty  opinion:  not  tena 
cious  in  retaining  an  opinion  when  formed : 
'never  ashamed  of  being  wiser  to-day  than  he 
was  yesterday :'  never  wandering  from  the  sub 
stance  of  the  matter  in  judgment  into  useless 
subtilty  and  refinement.  —  He  does  not  delay 
justice. — He  is  impartial ;  never  suffering  any 
passion  to  interfere  with  the  love  of  truth. — He 
hears  what  is  spoken,  not  who  speaks :  whether 
it  be  the  sovereign,  or  a  pauper ;  a  friend,  or  a  foe  ; 
a  favourite  advocate,  or  an  intelligent  judge. — He 
decides  according  to  law;  'jus  dicere:  non 
jus  dare,'  is  his  maxim. — He  delivers  his  judg 
ment  in  public,  '  palam  atque  astante  corona.' 

"  He  discharges  his  duty  to  all  persons. — To 
the  suitors,  by  doing  justice,  and  by  endeavouring 
to  satisfy  them  that  justice  is  done : — to  the  wit 
nesses,  by  patience,  kindness,  and  by  encourage 
ment; — to  the  jurors,  by  being  a  light  to  lead 
them  to  justice: — to  the  advocates,  by  hearing 
them  patiently ;  correcting  their  defects,  not  suf 
fering  justice  to  be  perverted  by  their  ingenuity, 
and  encouraging  their  merits: — to  the  inferior 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixxv 


officers,  by  rewarding  the  virtuous ;  skilful  in  pre 
cedents,  wary  in  proceeding,  and  understanding 
in  the  business  of  the  court ;  and  discountenanc 
ing  the  vicious,  sowers  of  suits,  disturbers  of 
jurisdiction,  impeders,  by  tricks  and  shifts,  of  the 
plain  and  direct  course  of  justice,  and  bringing  it 
into  oblique  lines  and  labyrinths :  and  the  poller 
and  exacter  of  fees,  who  justifies  the  common 
resemblance  of  the  courts  to  the  bush,  whereunto, 
while  the  sheep  flies  for  defence  in  weather,  he 
is  sure  to  lose  part  of  his  fleece  : — to  himself,  by 
counteracting  the  tendency  of  his  situation  to 
warp  his  character,  and  by  proper  use  of  times  of 
recreation: — to  his  profession,  by  preserving  the 
privileges  of  his  office,  and  by  improvement  of 
the  law: — and  to  society,  by  advancing  justice 
and  good  feeling,  in  the  suppression  of  force  and 
detection  of  fraud ;  in  readiness  to  hear  the  com 
plaints  of  the  distressed ;  in  looking  with  pity 
upon  those  who  have  erred  and  strayed ;  in  cour 
tesy  ;  in  discountenancing  contentious  suits ;  in 
attending  to  appearances,  esse  et  videri ;  in  en 
couraging  respect  for  the  office ;  and  by  resigning 
in  due  time." 

In  his  youth  he  had  exerted  himself  to  improve 
the  gardens  of  Gray's  Inn :  in  gardens  he  always 
delighted,  thinking  them  conducive  to  the  purest 
of  human  pleasures,  and  he  now,  as  chancellor, 
had  the  satisfaction  to  sign  the  patent  for  convert 
ing  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  into  walks,  extending 
almost  to  the  wall  where  his  faithful  friend  Ben 
Jonson  had,  when  a  boy,  worked  as  a  brick 
layer. 

For  relaxation  from  his  arduous  occupations  he 
was  accustomed  to  retire  to  his  magnificent  and 
beautiful  residence  at  Gorhambury,  the  dwelling- 
place  of  his  ancestors,  where,  "when  his  lordship 
arrived,  St.  Albans  seemed  as  if  the  court  had 
been  there,  so  nobly  did  he  live.  His  servants 
had  liveries  with  his  crest :  his  watermen  were 
more  employed  than  even  the  king's." 

About  half  a  mile  from  this  noble  mansion,  of 
which  the  ruins  yet  remain,  and  within  the  bounds 
of  Old  Verulam,  the  lord  chancellor  built,  at  the 
expense  of  about  £l 0,000,  a  most  ingeniously 
contrived  house,  where,  in  the  society  of  his  phi 
losophical  friends,  he  escaped  from  the  splendour 
of  chancellor,  to  study  and  meditation.  "  Here," 
says  Aubrey,  "his  lordship  much  meditated,  his 
servant,  Mr.  Bushell,  attending  him  with  his  pen 
and  inkhorn,  to  set  down  his  present  notions. 
Mr.  Thomas  Hobbes  told  me  that  his  lordship 
would  employ  him  often  in  this  service,  whilst 
tie  was  there,  and  was  better  pleased  with  his 
minutes,  or  notes,  set  down  by  him,  than  by 
others  who  did  not  well  understand  his  lordship. 
He  told  me  that  he  was  employed  in  translating 
part  of  the  Essays,  viz.  three  of  them,  one  whereof 
was  that  of  Greatness  of  Cities,  the  other  two  I 
have  now  forgot." 


Such  was  the  gorgeous  splendour,  such  the 
union  of  action  and  contemplation  in  which  he 
lived. 

About  this  period  the  king  conferred  upon  him 
the  valuable  farm  of  the  Alienation  Office,  and  he 
succeeded  in  obtaining  for  his  residence,  York 
House,  the  place  of  his  birth,  and  where  his 
father  had  lived,  when  lord  keeper  in  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth. 

This  may  be  considered  the  summit  of  this 
great  man's  worldly  prosperity.  He  had  been 
successively  solicitor  and  attorney-general,  privy 
councillor,  lord  keeper,  and  lord  chancellor,  hav 
ing  had  conferred  upon  him  the  dignities,  first  of 
knight,  then  of  Baron  of  Verulam,  and,  early  in 
the  next  year,  of  Viscount  St.  Albans  ;  but,  above 
all,  he  was  distinguished  through  Europe  by  a 
much  prouder  title,  as  the  greatest  of  English 
philosophers. 

At  York  House,  on  the  22d  of  January,  1620, 
he  celebrated  his  sixtieth  birthday,  surrounded  by 
his  admirers  and  friends,  amongst  whom  was  Ben 
Jonson,  who  composed,  in  honour  of  the  day,  a 
poem  founded  on  the  fiction  of  the  poet's  surprise 
upon  his  reaching  York  House,  at  the  sight  of  the 
genius  of  the  place  performing  some  mystery. 
Fortune  is  justly  represented  insecurely  placed 
upon  a  wheel,  whose  slightest  revolution  may 
cause  her  downfall.  It  has  been  said  that  wailing 
sounds  were  heard,  before  the  destruction  of  the 
Temple  of  Jerusalem,  and  at  last  the  rushing  of 
mighty  wings  when  the  angel  of  the  sanctuary 
departed.  Had  the  poet  been  a  prophet,  he  would 
have  described  the  good  genius  of  the  mansion, 
not  exulting,  but  dejected,  humbled,  and  about  to 
depart  forever. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FROM    THE    PUBLICATION    OF    THE    NOVUM  ORGANUM 
TO    HIS    RETIREMENT    FROM    ACTIVE    LIFE. 

October,  1620,  to  June,  1621. 

GLITTERING  in  the  blaze  of  worldly  splendour, 
and  absorbed  in  worldly  occupations,  the  chan 
cellor,  now  sixty  years  of  age,  could  no  longer 
delude  himself  with  the  hope  of  completing  his 
favourite  work,  the  great  object  of  his  life,  upon 
which  he  had  been  engaged  for  thirty  years,  and 
had  twelve  times  transcribed  with  his  own  hand. 
He  resolved  at  once  to  abandon  it,  and  publish 
the  small  fragment  which  he  had  composed.  For 
this  act  of  despair  he  assigned  two  reasons  : — 
"  Because  I  number  my  days,  and  would  have  it 
saved;"  and  "to  try  whether  I  can  get  help  in 
one  intended  part  of  this  work,  namely,  the  com 
piling  of  a  Natural  and  Experimental  History, 


Ixxvi 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


which  must  be  the  foundation  of  a  true  and  active 
philosophy."  Such  are  the  consequences  of  vain 
attempts  to  unite  deep  contemplation  and  unre 
mitting  action  !  Such  the  consequences  of  forget 
ting  our  limited  powers  ;  that  we  can  reach  only 
to  our  arm's  length,  and  our  voice  be  heard  only 
till  the  next  air  is  still ! 

It  will  be  remembered,  that  in  the  Advance 
ment  of  Learning,  he  separates  the  subject  of  the 
human  mind  into 

PI.  Invention. 

pi.  The  Understanding  J  I*  ^udSment- 

I  I     '  Memory. 

\l  4.  Tradition. 
2.  The  Will. 

Under  the  head  of  Invention  he  says,  "  The 
invention  of  sciences,  I  purpose,  if  God  give  me 
leave  hereafter  to  propound,  having  digested  it 
into  two  parts;  whereof  the  one  I  term  experientia 
liter  ata,  and  the  other  interpretatio  naluras :  the 
former  being  but  a  degree  and  rudiment  of  the 
latter.  But  I  will  not  dwell  too  long,  nor  speak 
too  great  upon  a  promise."  This  promise,  he, 
however,  lived  partly  to  realize. 

In  the  year  1623,  he  completed  his  tract  upon 
Literate  Experience,  in  which,  after  having  ex 
plained  that  our  inventions,  instead  of  resulting 
from  reason  and  foresight,  have  ever  originated  in 
accident;  that  "we  are  more  beholden  to  a  wild 
goat  for  surgery :  to  a  nightingale  for  modula 
tions  of  music  :  to  the  ibis  for  some  part  of 
physic  :  to  a  pot-lid  that  flew  open  for  artillery  : 
in  a  word,  to  chance  rather  than  to  logic  :  so  that 
it  is  no  marvel  that  the  Egyptians  had  their  tem 
ples  full  of  the  idols  of  brutes  ;  but  almost  empty 
of  the  idols  of  men:"  he  divides  this  art  of  Dis 
covery  into  two  parts  :  "  For  either  the  indication 
is  made  from  experiments  to  experiments,  or  from 
experiments  to  axioms,  which  may  likewise  design 
new  experiments  ;  whereof  the  former  we  will 
term  Experientia  Liter ata  ;  the  latter,  Interpretatio 
Naturae,  or  Novuni  Organum;  as  a  man  may  go 
on  his  way  after  a  threefold  manner,  either  when 
himself  feels  out  his  way  in  the  dark;  or,  being 
weak-sighted,  is  led  by  the  hand  of  another;  or 
else  when  he  directs  his  footing  by  a  light.  So 
when  a  man  essays  all  kind  of  experiments  with 
out  sequence  or  method,  that  is  a  mere  palpation ; 
but  when  he  proceeds  by  direction  and  order  in 
experiments,  it  is  as  if  he  were  led  by  the  hand  ; 
and  this  is  it  which  we  understand  by  Literate 
Experience;  for  the  light  itself,  which  is  the  third 
way,  is  to  be  derived  from  the  interpretation  of 
nature,  or  the  New  Organ.''1 

He  then  proceeds  to  explain  his  doctrine  of 
"  Literate  Experience,"  or  the  science  of  making 
experiments.  The  hunting  of  Pan. 

In  this  interesting  inquiry  the  miraculous  vigi 
lance  of  this  extraordinary  man  may  possibly  be 


more  apparent  than  in  his  more  abstruse  works 
An  outline  of  it  is  subjoined.1 


1  The  art  of  experimenting  is, 

1.  Production. 

2.  Inversion. 

3.  Variation. 
1.  Simple.. 


U.  Translation. 


2.  Chance. 


.2.  Compound. 


1.  By  repetition. 

2.  By  extension. 

3.  By  compulsion. 

:  1.  Of  the  matter. 
2.  Of  the  efficient. 
[3.  Of  the  quantity. 

1.  From  nature. 

1.  To  nature. 

2.  To  art. 

2.  From  art. 

1.  To  a  different  art. 

2.  To  a  part  of  the  sare« 

art. 

3.  From  experiment  to  experi 

ment. 


A  few  moments  consideration  of  each  of  these  subjects  will 
not  be  lost. 

PRODUCTION  is  experimenting  upon  the  result  of  the  expe 
riment,  and  is  either,  1st,  by  Repetition,  continuing  the  expe 
riment  upon  the  result  of  the  experiment  ;  as  Newton,  who, 
after  having  separated  light  into  seven  rays,  proceeded  to 
separate  each  distinct  pencil  of  rays  ;  or,  2dly,  by  Extension, 
or  urging  the  experiment  to  a  greater  subtlety,  as  in  the  me 
mory  being  helped  by  images  and  pictures  of  persons:  may 
it  not  also  be  helped  by  imaging  their  gestures  and  habits'? 
or,  3dly,  by  Compulsion,  or  trying  an  experiment  till  its  virtue 
is  annihilated  :  not  merely  hunting  the  game,  but  killing  it; 
as  burning  or  macerating  a  loadstone,  or  dissolving  iron  till 
the  attraction  between  the  iron  and  the  loadstone  is  gone. 

INVERSION  is  trying  the  contrary  to  that  which  is  mani 
fested  by  the  experiment :  as  in  heating  the  end  of  a  small 
bar  of  iron,  and  placing  the  heated  end  downwards,  and  your 
hand  on  the  top,  it  will  presently  burn  the  hand.  Invert  the 
iron,  and  place  the  hand  on  the  ground,  to  ascertain  whether 
heat  is  produced  as  rapidly  by  descent  as  by  ascent. 

VARIATION  is  either  of  the  matter,  as  the  trying  to  make 
paper  of  woollen,  as  well  as  of  linen  ;  or  of  the  efficient,  as 
by  trying  if  amber  and  jet,  which  when  rubbed,  will  attract 
straw,  will  have  the  same  effect  if  warmed  at  the  fire,  or  of 
the  quantity,  like  ^sop's  housewife,  who  thought  that  by 
doubling  her  measure  of  barley,  her  hen  would  daily  lay  her 
two  eggs. 

TRANSLATION  is  cither  from  nature  to  nature,  as  Newton 
translating  the  force  of  gravity  upon  the  earth  to  the  celestial 
bodies ;  or  from  nature  to  art,  as  the  manner  of  distilling 
might  be  taken  from  showers  or  dew,  or  from  that  homely 
experiment  of  drops  adhering  to  covers  put  upon  pots  of 
boiling  water  ;  or  from  art  to  a  different  art,  as  by  transferring 
the  invention  of  spectacles,  to  help  a  weak  sight,  to  an  in 
strument  fastened  to  the  ear,  to  help  the  deaf;  or  to  a  differ 
ent  part  of  the  same  art :  as,  if  opiates  repress  the  spirits  in 
diseases,  may  they  not  retard  the  consumption  of  the  spirits 
so  as  to  prolong  life;  or  from  experiment  to  experiment.' 
as  upon  flesh  putrefying  sooner  in  some  cellars  than  in 
others,  by  considering  whether  this  may  not  assist  in  find 
ing  good  or  bad  air  for  habitations. 

Such  are  the  modes  of  experimenting  by  translation,* 
open  to  all  men  who  will  awake  and  perpetually  fix  their 
eyes,  one  while  on  the  nature  of  things,  another  on  the  appli 
cation  of  them,  to  the  use  and  service  of  mankind. 

COPULATION  of  experiments  is  trying  the  efficacy  of  united 
experiments,  which,  when  separate,  produce  the  same  effect : 
as,  by  pulling  off  the  more  early  buds  when  they  are  newly 
knotted,  or  by  laying  the  roots  bare  until  the  spring,  late  roses 
will  be  produced.  Will  not  the  germination  be  more  delayed 
by  a  union  of  these  experiments? 

CHANCES  of  an  experiment,  or  the  trying  a  conclusion,  not 
for  that  any  reason,  or  other  experiment,  induceth  you  to  it, 


*  They  may  be  thug  exhibited  : 


2.  From  art 


f  To  a  different  art. 
\Toa 


i  a  different  part  of  the  same  art 
3.  From  experiment  to  experiment. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixxvii 


The  NOVUM  ORGANUM  is  the  next  subject  of 
consideration.  It  thus  opens : 

FRANCISCUS 
DE  VERULAMIO 

SIC    COG1TAVIT.1 

His  despair  of  the  possibility  of  completing  his 
important  work,  of  which  his  Novum  Organum 
was  only  a  portion,  appears  at  the  very  entrance 
of  the  volume,  which,  instead  of  being  confined  to 
the  Novum  Organum,  exhibits  an  outline,  and 
only  an  outline,  of  the  whole  of  his  intended 
labours. 

After  his  dedication  to  the  king,  he,  accord 
ing  to  his  wonted  mode,  clears  the  way  by  a  re 
view  of  the  state  of  learning,  which,  he  says,  is 
neither  prosperous  nor  advanced,  but,  being  barren 
in  effects,  fruitful  in  questions,  slow  and  languid 
in  its  improvement,  exhibiting  in  its  generality 
the  counterfeit  of  perfection,  ill  filled  up  in  its  de 
tails,  popular  in  its  choice,  suspected  by  its  very 
promoters,  and  therefore  countenanced  with  arti 
fices,  it  is  necessary  that  an  entirely  different 
way  from  any  known  by  our  predecessors  must  be 
opened  to  the  human  understanding,  and  differ 
ent  helps  be  obtained,  in  order  that  the  mind 
may  exercise  its  jurisdiction  over  the  nature  of 
things. 

but  only  because  the  like  was  never  attempted  before  :  an  ir 
rational,  and,  as  it  were,  a  passionate  manner  of  experiment 
ing  ;  but  yet  the  wonders  of  nature  lie  out  of  the  high  road 
and  beaten  paths,  so  as  the  very  absurdity  of  an  attempt  may 
sometimes  be  prosperous. 

Such  is  the  nature  of  his  tract  entitled  "  Literate  Experi 
ence." 

1  Vol.  ix.  p.  145,  147.  Cum  autem  incertus  esset,  quando 
haec  alicui  posthac  in  metitem  ventura  sint;  eo  potissimum 
usus  argumento,  quod  neminem  hactenus  invenit,  qui  ad 
similes  cogitationes  aniruum  applicuerit;  decrevit  prima 
quaeque,  quoe  perficere  licuit,  in  publicum  edere.  Neque 
hrcc  festinatio  ambitiosa  fuit,  sed  sollicita;  ut  si  qnid  illi  hu- 
manitus  acculerct,  exstaret  tamen  designatio  quarilain,  ac 
destinatio  rei  quam  animo  complexus  ost ;  utque  exstaret 
simulsignum  aliquod  honestre  sure  et  propensa?  in  generis 
human!  commoda  voluntatis.  Certe  aliam  quamcunque  am- 
bitionem  inferiorem  duxit  re,  quam  prcB  manibus  habuit.  Aut 
enim  hoc  quod  agitur  nihil  est;  aut  tantum,  ut  merito  ipso 
contentum  esse  debeat,  nee  fructum  extra  quserere. 

FRANCIS  OF  VERULAM 

THOUGHT  THUS. 

Uncertain,  however,  whether  these  reflections  would  ever 
hereafter  suggest  themselves  to  another,  and  particularly  hav 
ing  observed  that  he  has  never  yet  met  with  any  person  dis 
posed  to  apply  his  mind  to  similar  meditations,  he  determined 
to  publish  whatsoever  he  had  first  time  to  conclude.  Nor  is  this 
the  haste  of  ambition,  but  of  his  anxiety,  that  if  the  common 
lot  of  mankind  should  befall  him,  some  sketch  and  determina 
tion  of  thi:  matter  his  mind  had  embraced  might  be  extant, 
as  well  as  an  earnest  of  his  will  being  honourably  bent  upon 
promoting  the  advantage  of  mankind.  lie  assuredly  looked 
upon  any  other  ambition  as  beneath  the  matter  he  had  un 
dertaken  ;  for  that  which  is  here  treated  of  is  either  nothing, 
or  it  is  so  great  that  he  ought  to  be  satisfied  with  its  own 
worth  and  seek  no  other  return. 


The  intended  work  is  then  separated  into  six 
parts : 

1.  Divisions  of  the  Sciences. 

2.  Novum  Organum;  or,  Precepts  for  the  In 

terpretation  of  Nature. 

3.  Phenomena  of  the   Universe ;    or,  Natural 

and    Experimental   History   on  which  to 
found  Philosophy. 

4.  Scale  of  the  Understanding. 

5.  Precursors  or  Anticipations  of  the  Second 

Philosophy. 

6.  Sound  Philosophy,  or  Active  Science. 

And  with  respect  to  each  of  these  parts  he  ex 
plains  his  intentions. 

As  to  the  first,  or  THE  DIVISION  OF  THE 
SCIENCES,  he,  in  1605,  had  exhibited  an  outline  in 
the  Advancement  of  Learning,  and  lived  nearly  to 
complete  it  in  the  year  1623.  In  this  treatise  he 
describes  the  cultivated  parts  of  the  intellectual 
world  and  the  deserts;  not  to  measure  out  regions, 
as  augurs  for  divination,  but  as  generals  to  invade 
for  conquest. 

THE  NOVUM  OKGANUM  is  a  treatise  upon  the 
conduct  of  the  understanding  in  the  systematic 
discovery  of  truth,  or  the  art  of  invention  by  a 
New  Organ:  as,  in  inquiring  into  any  nature,  the 
hydrophobia,  for  instance,  or  the  attraction  of  the 
magnet,  the  Novum  Organum  explains  a  mode 
of  proceeding  by  which  its  nature  and  laws  may 
with  certainty  be  found. 

It  having  been  Bacon's  favourite  doctrine,  that 
important  truths  are  often  best  discovered  in  small 
and  familiar  instances,  as  the  nature  of  a  com 
monwealth,  in  a  family  and  the  simple  conjuga 
tions  of  society,  man  and  wife,  parents  and  child 
ren,  master  and  servant,  which  are  in  every  cot 
tage;  and  as  he  had  early  taught  that  all  truths, 
however  divisible  as  lines  and  veins,  are  not  se 
parable  as  sections  and  separations,  but  partake 
of  one  common  essence,  which,  like  the  drops  of 
rain,  fall  separately  into  the  river,  mix  themselves 
at  once  with  the  stream,  and  strengthen  the  ge 
neral  current,  it  may  seem  extraordinary  that  it 
should  not  have  occurred  to  him  that  the  mode  to 
discover  any  truth  might,  possibly,  be  seen  by 
the  proceedings  in  a  court  of  justice,  where  the 
immediate  and  dearest  interests  of  men  being  con 
cerned,  and  great  intellect  exerted,  it  is  natural  to 
suppose  that  the  best  mode  of  invention  would  be 
adopted. 

In  a  well  constituted  court  of  justice  the  judge 
is  without  partiality.  He  hears  the  evidence  on 
both  sides,  and  the  reasoning  of  the  opposite  ad 
vocates.  He  then  forms  his  judgment.  This  is 
the  mode  adopted  by  Bacon  in  the  Novum  Or 
ganum  for  the  discovery  of  all  truths.  He  en 
deavours  to  make  the  philosopher  in  his  study 
proceed  as  a  judge  in  his  court* 

For  this  purpose  his  work  is  divisible  into  three 
parts:  1st.  The  removal  of  prejudice,  or  the  do- 

(G2) 


Ixxviii 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


struction  of  idols,  or  modes  by  which  the  judg 
ment  is  warped  from  the  truth.  2dly.  By  con 
sidering  facts  on  both  sides;  as  if  the  inquiry  be 
into  the  nature  of  heat,  by  considering  all  the  af 
firmative  and  negative  instances  of  heat. 


Affirmative  Table. 

Negative.  Table. 

The  Sun's  direct  rays. 
Blood  of  Terrestrial  Animals. 
Living  Animals, 
&c. 

The  Moon's  rays. 
Blood  of  Fish. 
Dead  Animals, 
&e. 

3dly.  By  explaining  the  mode  in  which  the  facts 
presented  to  the  senses  ought  by  certain  rules  to 
be  examined. 

As  the  commander  of  an  army,  before  he  com 
mences  an  attack,  considers  the  strength  and 
number  of  his  troops,  both  regular  and  allies  ;  the 
spirit  by  which  they  are  animated,  whether  tliey 
are  the  lion,  or  the  sheep  in  the  lion's  skin ;  the 
power  of  the  enemy  to  which  he  is  opposed  :  their 
walled  towns,  their  stored  arsenals  and  armories, 
their  horses  and  chariots  of  war,  elephants,  ord 
nance  and  artillery,  and  their  races  of  men ;  and 
then  in  what  mode  he  shall  commence  his  attack 
and  proceed  in  the  battle  :  so,  before  man  directs 
his  strength  against  nature,  and  endeavours  to 
take  her  high  towers  and  dismantle  her  fortified 
holds,  and  thus  enlarge  the  borders  of  his  do 
minion,  he  ought  duly  to  estimate, 

1st.  His  powers,  natural  and  artificial,  for  the 

discovery  of  truth. 
2d.  His   different   motives  for  the  exercise  of 

his  powers. 
3d.  The   obstacles   to   which   he   is    opposed; 

and, 
4th.  The    mode   in    which   he   can   exert,   his 

powers  with  most  efficacy,  or  the  Art  of 

Invention. 

Of  these  four  requisites,  therefore,  a  perfect 
work  upon  the  conduct  of  the  understanding 
ought,  as  it  seems,  to  consist:  but  the  Novum 
Organum  is  not  thus  treated.  To  system  Bacon 
was  not  attached :  for  "  As  young  men,  when  they 
knit  and  shape  perfectly,  do  seldom  grow  to  a 
farther  stature,  so  knowledge,  while  it  is  in 
aphorisms  and  observations,  it  is  in  growth  ;  but 
when  it  once  is  comprehended  in  exact  methods, 
it  may  perchance  be  farther  polished  and  illus 
trated,  and  accommodated  for  use  and  practice; 
but  it  increaseth  no  more  in  bulk  and  substance. 

Instead  of  explaining  our  different  powers,  our 
Senses,  our  Imagination,  our  Reason,  there  are  in 
the  Novum  Organum  only  some  scattered  observa 
tions  upon  the  defects  of  the  senses  ; — upon  the 
different  causes  or  idols  by  which  the  judgment 
is  always  liable  to  be  warped,  and  some  sugges 
tions  as  to  the  artificial  helps  to  our  natural  pow 
ers  in  exploring  the  truths  which  are  exhibited  to 
the  senses. 


With  respect  to  the  defects  of  the  senses,  he 
says  that  things  escape  their  cognisance  by  seven 
modes : 

1st.  From  distance:  which  is  remedied  by 
substitutes,  as  beacons,  bells,  telegraphs, 
&c. 

2d.  By  the  interception  of  interposing  bodies; 
which  is  remedied  by  attention  to  outward 
or  visible  signs,  as  the  internal  state  of  the 
body  by  the  pulse,  &c. 

3d.  By  the  unfitness  of  the  body  :  or, 

4th.  Its  insufficiency  in  quantity  to  impress  the 
sense,  as  the  air  and  the  vital  spirit,  which 
is  imperceptible  by  sight  or  touch. 

oth.  From  the  insufficiency  of  time  to  actuate  the 
sense,  cither  when  the  motion  is  too  slow, 
as  in  the  hand  of  a  clock  or  the  growth  of 
grass,  or  too  rapid,  as  a  bullet  passing 
through  the  air. 

Gth.  From  the  percussion  of  the  body  being  too 
powerful  for  the  sense,  as  in  looking  at  the 
midday  sun;  which  is  remedied  by  re 
moving  the  object  from  the  sense ;  or  by 
diminishing  its  force  by  the  interposition 
of  a  medium,  as  smoking  tobacco  through 
water;  or  by  reflection,  as  the  sun's  rays 
in  a  mirror  or  basin  of  water:  and — 

7th.  Because  the  sense  is  pre-occupied  by  an 
other  object,  as  by  the  use  of  perfumes. 

The  defects  of  the  judgment  he  investigates 
in  a  more  laborious  inquiry.  "There  are,"  he 
says,  "  certain  predispositions  which  beset  the 
mind  of  man;  certain  idols  which  are  constantly 
operating  upon  the  mind  and  warping  it  from  the 
truth ;  for  the  mind  of  man,  drawn  over  and 
clouded  with  the  sable  pavilion  of  the  body,  is  so 
far  from  being  like  smooth,  equal,  and  clear  glass, 
which  might  sincerely  take  and  reflect  the  beams 
of  things  according  to  their  true  incidence,  that  it  is 
rather  like  an  enchanted  glass,  full  of  supersti 
tions,  apparitions,  and  impostures ;  which  idols 
are  of  such  a  pernicious  nature,  that,  if  they 
once  take  root  in  the  mind,  they  will  so  possess 
it  that  truth  can  hardly  find  entrance;  and,  even 
should  it  enter,  they  will  again  rise  up,  choke, 
and  destroy  it." 

These  idols  are  of  two  sorts:  1st.  Common  to 
all  men,  therefore  called  Idols  of  the  Tribe,  in 
cluding  the  defects  of  words,  called  Idols  of  the 
Market;  2d.  Peculiar  to  peculiar  individuals, 
either  from  their  original  conformation,  or  from 
their  education  and  pursuits  in  life,  called  Idols 
of  the  Den,  including  the  errors  from  particular 
opinions,  called  Idols  of  the  Theatre.  So  that 
his  doctrine  of  idols  may  be  thus  exhibited  : 

1.  Of  the  Tribe.— Of  the  Market 

2.  Of  the  Den.— Of  the  Theatre. 

The  Idols  of  the  Tribe,  or  warps  to  the  judgment, 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixxix 


by  which  all  mankind  swerve  from  the  truth,  are 
of  two  classes  :  1st.  When  man  is  under  the  in 
fluence  of  a  passion  more  powerful  than  the  love 
of  truth,  as  worldly  interest,  crying  "  Great  is 
Diana  of  the  Ephesians:"  or,  2dly,  When,under  the 
influence  of  the  love  of  truth,  he,  like  every  lover,  is 
hurried  without  due  and  cautious  inquiry  by  the 
hope  of  possessing  the  object  of  his  affections; 
which  manifests  itself  either  in  hasty  assent,  or 
hasty  generalization,  the  parents  of  credulity : — in 
tenacity  in  retaining  opinions,  the  parent  of  preju 
dice  : — in  abandoning  universality,  the  parent  of 
feeble  inquiry : — or  in  indulging  in  subtleties  and 
refinements  and  endless  inquiry,  the  parent  of  vain 
speculations,  spinning  out  of  itself  cobwebs  of 
learning,  admirable  for  their  fineness  of  texture, 
but  of  no  substance  or  profit. 

As  men  associate  by  discourse,  and  words  are 
imposed  according  to  the  capacity  of  the  vulgar, 
a  false  and  improper  imposition  of  words  unavoid 
ably  possesses  the  understanding,  leading  men 
away  to  idle  controversies  and  subtleties,  irreme 
diable  by  definitions,  which,  consisting  of  words, 
shoot  back,  like  the  Tartar's  bow,  upon  the 
judgment  from  whence  they  came. 

These  defects  of  words,  or  Idols  of  the  Market, 
are  either  names  of  non-existences,  as  iheprimum 
mobile,  the  element  of  fire,  &c. ;  or  confused  names 
of  existences,  as  beauty,  virtue,  &c. ;  which,  from 
the  subtlety  of  nature  being  infinite,  and  of  words 
finite,  must  always  exist.  Words  tell  the  mi 
nutes,  but  not  the  seconds.  When  we  attempt  to 
reach  heaven,  we  are  stopped  by  the  confusion  of 
languages. 

The  Idols  of  the  Den,  or  attachment  by  particu 
lar  individuals  to  particular  opinions,  he  thus  ex 
plains  :  "  We  every  one  of  us  have  our  particular 
den  or  cavern,  which  refracts  and  corrupts  the 
light  of  nature  ;  either  because  every  man  has  his 
respective  temper,  education,  acquaintance,  course 
of  reading,  and  authorities  ;  or  from  the  difference 
of  impressions,  as  they  happen  in  a  mind  preju 
diced  or  prepossessed,  or  in  one  that  is  calm  and 
equal.  Of  which  defects  Plato's  cave  is  an  ex 
cellent  emblem  :  for,  certainly,  if  a  man  were  con 
tinued  from  his  childhood  to  mature  age  in  a 
grotto  or  dark  and  subterraneous  cave,  and  then 
should  come  suddenly  abroad,  and  should  behold 
the  stately  canopy  of  heaven  and  the  furniture  of 
the  world,  without  doubt  he  would  have  many 
strange  and  absurd  imaginations  come  into  his 
mind  and  people  his  brain.  So  in  like  manner 
we  live  in  the  view  of  heaven,  yet  our  spirits  are 
enclosed  in  the  caves  of  our  bodies,  complexions, 
and  customs,  which  must  needs  minister  unto  us 
infinite  images  of  error  and  vain  opinions,  if  they 
do  seldom  and  for  so  short  a  time  appear  above 
ground  out  of  their  holes,  and  do  not  continually 
live  under  the  contemplation  of  nature,  as  in  the 
open  air."  Of  these  Idols  of  the  Den,  the  attach 
ment  of  professional  men,  divines,  lawyers,  poli 


ticians,  &c.,  to  their  respective  sciences,  are  glar 
ing  instances. 

Idols  of  the.  Theatre,  or  depraved  theories,  are, 
of  course,  infinite  and  inveterate ;  appearing  in 
that  numerous  litter  of  strange,  senseless,  absurd 
opinions,  which  crawl  about  the  world  to  the 
disgrace  of  reason,  and  the  wretchedness  of  man 
kind. 

Upon  the  destruction  of  these  idols,  Bacon  is 
unceasing  in  his  exhortations.  "  They  must," 
he  says,  "  by  the  lover  of  truth  be  solemnly  and 
forever  renounced,  that  the  understanding  may  be 
purged  and  cleansed  ;  for  the  kingdom  of  man, 
which  is  founded  in  the  sciences,  can  scarce  be 
entered  otherwise  than  the  Kingdom  of  God,  that 
is,  in  the  condition  of  little  children  :"  and,  with 
an  earnestness  not  often  found  in  his  works,  he 
adds,  "  If  we  have  any  humility  towards  the 
Creator;  if  we  have  any  reverence  and  esteem  of 
his  works ;  if  we  have  any  charity  towards  men, 
or  any  desire  of  relieving  their  miseries  and  ne 
cessities  ;  if  we  have  any  love  for  natural  truths  ; 
any  aversion  to  darkness,  any  desire  of  purifying 
the  understanding,  we  must  destroy  these  idols, 
which  have  led  experience  captive,  and  childishly 
triumphed  over  the  works  of  God ;  and  now  at 
length  condescend,  with  due  submission  and  ve 
neration,  to  approach  and  peruse  the  volume  of 
the  creation  ;  dwell  some  time  upon  it,  and  bring 
ing  to  the  work  a  mind  well  purged  of  opinions, 
idols,  and  false  notions,  converse  familiarly  there 
in.  This  volume  is  the  language  which  has  gone 
out  to  all  the  ends  of  the  earth,  unaffected  by  the 
confusion  of  Babel ;  this  is  the  language  that  men 
should  thoroughly  learn,  and  not  disdain  to  have 
its  alphabet  perpetually  in  their  hands ;  and  in 
the  interpretation  of  this  language  they  should 
spare  no  pains,  but  strenuously  proceed,  perse 
vere,  and  dwell  upon  it  to  the  last." 

Such  is  a  faint  outline  of  Bacon's  celebrated 
doctrine  of  idols,  which  has  sometimes  been  sup 
posed  to  be  the  most  important  of  all  his  works, 
and  to  expose  the  cause  of  all  the  errors  by  which 
man  is  misled. 

Upon  the  motives  by  which  the  lover  of  truth, 
seeking  nature  with  all  her  fruits  about  her,  can 
alone  be  actuated,  and  which  he  has  explained  in 
other  parts  of  his  works,  he,  in  the  Novum  Or- 
ganum,  contents  himself  with  saying,  "  We 
would  in  general  admonish  all  to  consider  the  true 
ends  of  knowledge,  and  not  to  seek  it  for  the  gra 
tification  of  their  minds,  or  for  disputation,  or 
that  they  may  despise  others,  or  for  emolument, 
or  fame,  or  power,  or  such  low  objects,  but  for  its 
intrinsic  merit  and  the  purposes  of  life." 

The  obstacles  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge 
are : 

f  1.  Worldly  occupation. 
Want  of  time,  -<  2.  Sickness. 

and  (_3.  Shortness  of  life. 

Want  of  means. 


ri.  \s 

[2.W; 


Ixxx 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Upon  the  obstacles  from  want  of  time,  more 
imaginary  than  real,  if  time  is  not  wasted  in  frivo 
lous  pursuits,  in  sensuality  or  in  sleep,  in  misappli 
cation  of  times  of  recreation,  or  in  idle  curiosity,  the 
Novum  Organum  contains  but  one  casual,  conso 
latory  observation  :  "  We  judge  also  that  mankind 
may  conceive  some  hopes  from  our  example, 
which  we  offer,  not  by  way  of  ostentation,  but 
because  it  may  be  useful." 

The  obstacles  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge 
from  want  of  means  he  through  life  deeply  felt, 
and  he  never  omitted  an  opportunity  earnestly  to 
express  his  hope  that  it  would  be  diminished  or 
destroyed  by  such  a  collection  of  natural  history 
as  would  show  the  world,  not  as  man  has  made 
it,  not  as  it  exists  only  in  imagination,  but  as  it 
really  exists,  as  God  has  made  it. 

Anxious  to  lay  the  true  foundation  of  philoso 
phy,  he,  in  the  Novum  Organum,  availed  himself 
of  the  power  with  which  he  was  intrusted,  to 
induce  the  king  to  form  such  a  collection  of  natu 
ral  history  as  he  had  measured  out  in  his  mind, 
and  such  as  really  ought  to  be  procured;  "  a  great 
and  royal  work,  requiring  the  purse  of  a  prince 
and  the  assistance  of  a  people."  He,  therefore, 
in  the  dedication,  and  in  his  presentation  letter, 
urged  the  king  to  imitate  Solomon,  by  procuring 
the  compilation  and  completion  of  such  a  natural 
and  experimental  history  as  should  be  serviceable 
for  raising  the  superstructure  of  philosophy  :  that, 
at  length,  after  so  many  ages,  philosophy  and  the 
sciences  may  no  longer  be  unsettled  and  specula 
tive,  but  fixed  on  the  solid  foundation  of  a  varied 
.tnd  well-considered  experience :  and  in  his  reply 
to  the  king's  acknowledgment  of  the  receipt  of 
the  Novum  Organum,  he  repeats  his  hope  that 
the  king  will  aid  him  in  employing  the  commu 
nity  in  collecting  a  natural  and  experimental  his 
tory,  as  "basis  totius  negotii;  for  who  can  tell, 
now  this  mine  of  truth  is  opened,  how  the  veins 
go,  and  what  lieth  higher,  and  what  lieth  lower]'' 

Such  were  the  hopes  in  which  he  indulged. 
So  difficult  is  it  to  love  and  be  wise.  The  king 
complimented  him  upon  his  work,  saying,  that, 
"like  the  peace  of  God,  itpasseth  all  understand 
ing;"  but  of  a  collection  of  natural  history,  "  ne 
vcrbum  quidem" 

Annexed  to  this  doctrine  of  idols,  there  are 
some  inquiries  into  the  signs  of  false  philosophy ; 
the  causes  of  the  errors  in  philosophy ;  and  the 
grounds  of  hope  that  knowledge  must  be  progres 
sive;  hopes  which  he  had  beautifully  stated  in 
the  conclusion  of  his  Advancement  of  Learning. 

After  having  thus  cleared  the  way  \)j  consider 
ing  the  modes  by  which  we  are  warped  from  the 
truth  ;  by  which,  formed  to  adore  the  true  God, 
we  fall  down  and  worship  an  idol:  after  having 
admonished  us,  that,  in  the  conduct  of  the  under 
standing,  a  false  step  may  be  fatal,  that  a  cripple 
in  the  right  will  beat  a  racer  in  the  wrong  way, 
erring  in  proportion  to  his  fleetness,  he  expresses 


his  astonishment  that  no  mortal  should  have  taken 
care  to  open  and  prepare  a  way  for  the  human 
understanding,  from  sense  and  a  well-conducted 
experience,  but  that  all  things  should  be  left 
either  to  the  darkness  of  tradition,  the  giddy  agi 
tation  and  whirlwind  of  argument,  or  else  to  the 
uncertain  waves  of  accident,  or  a  vague  and  unin 
formed  experience.  To  open  this  way,  to  discover 
how  our  reason  shall  be  guided,  that  it  may  be 
right,  that  it  be  not  a  blind  guide,  but  direct  us 
to  the  place  where  the  star  appears,  and  point  us 
I  to  the  very  place  where  the  babe  lieth,  is  the  great 
object  of  this  inquiry. 

As  our  opinions  are  formed  by  impressions 
made  upon  our  senses,  by  confidence  in  the  com 
munications  of  others,  and  by  our  own  meditations, 
man,  in  the  infancy  of  his  reason,  is  unavoidably 
in  error:  for,  although  our  senses  never  deceive 
us,  the  communications  made  by  others,  and  our 
owrn  speculations  must,  according  to  the  ignorance 
of  our  teachers,  and  the  liveliness  of  our  own 
imaginations,  teem  with  error. 

Bacon  saw  the  evil,  and  he  saw  the  remedy : 
he  saw  and  taught  his  contemporaries  and  future 
ages,  that  reasoning  is  nothing  worth,  except  as 
it  is  founded  on  facts. 

In  his  Sylva  Sylvarum,  he  thus  speaks:  "The 
philosophy  of  Pythagoras,  which  was  full  of 
superstition,  did  first  plant  a  monstrous  imagina 
tion,  which  afterwards  was,  by  the  school  of  Plato 
and  others,  watered  and  nourished.  It  was,  *-hat 
the  world  was  one  entire,  perfect,  living  creature  ; 
that  the  ebbing  and  flowing  of  the  sea  was  the 
respiration  of  the  world,  drawing  in  water  as 
breath,  and  putting  it  forth  again.  They  went  on 
and  inferred,  that  if  the  world  were  a  living  crea 
ture,  it  had  a  soul  and  spirit.  This  foundation 
being  laid,  they  might  build  upon  it  what  they 
would;  for  in  a  living  creature,  though  never  so 
great,  as,  for  example,  in  a  great  whale,  the  sense, 
and  the  effects  of  any  one  part  of  the  body, 
instantly  make  a  transcursion  throughout  the 
whole  body :  so  that  by  this  they  did  insinuate 
that  no  distance  of  place,  nor  want  or  indisposition 
of  matter,  could  hinder  magical  operation;  but 
that,  for  example,  we  might  here  in  Europe  have 
sense  and  feeling  of  that  which  was  done  in  China. 
With  these  vast  and  bottomless  follies,  men  have 
been  in  part  entertained.  But  we  that  hold  firm 
to  the  works  of  God,  and  to  the  sense,  which  is 
God's  lamp,  Lucerna  Dei  Spiraculum  Hominis, 
will  inquire,  with  all  sobriety  and  severity,  whe 
ther  there  is  to  be  found,  in  the  footsteps  of  nature, 
any  such  transmission  and  influx  of  immateriate 
virtues." 

In  this  state  of  darkness  was  society  involved, 
when  Bacon  formed  his  Art  of  Invention,  which 
consists  in  collecting  all  bodies  that  have  any 
affinity  with  the  nature  sought ;  and  in  a  systema 
tic  examination  of  the  bodies  collected. 

To  discover  facts  is,  therefore,  his  first  object; 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


1XXX1 


but,  as  natural  and  experimental  history  is  so  co 
pious  and  diffusive  as  to  confound  and  distract 
the  understanding,  unless  digested  in  proper 
order,  tables  are  formed  and  so  digested,  that  the 
understanding  may  commodiously  work  upon 
them. 


bodies,  which  do  not  agree  in  the  same  nature. 
Thus,  let  the  nature  sought  be  heat. 


Affirmative  Table, 


Negative  Table. 


The  Sun's  direct  Rays. 
Blood  of  Terrestrial  Animals. 
Living  Animal 
Boiling  Water 

&.C.  &.C. 


The  Moon's  Rays. 
Blood  of  Fish. 
Dead  Animals. 
Ice, 

&c.  &c. 


Another  use,  therefore,  of  this  table  is  to  discover 
the  nature  sought  by  observing  its  qualities  which 
are  absent  in  the  analogous  nature,  "like  the 
images  of  Cassius  and  Brutus,  in  the  funeral  of 
Junia  ;"  of  which,  not  being  represented  as  many 
others  were,  Tacitus  saith,  "  Eo  ipso  prscfulgcbant 
quod  non  visebanlur." 


TABLE  III. 


The  first,  or  Affirmative  Table,  consists  of  a 
general  collection  of  all  the  known  analogous  in 
stances  which  agree  in  the  nature  sought,  from 
subjects  however  dissimilar  or  sordid  they  may 

The  third,  or  Table  of  Comparisons,  consists  of 
comparison  of  quantity  of  the  nature  sought  in  the 
same  bodies  and  in  different  bodies.     Thus, 

be  supposed  to  be,  and  without  being  deterred  by 

COMPARISONS   OF   HEAT. 

the  apparent  number  of  particulars. 

r  1                                                    r 

If,  for  instance,  the   nature  sought  be  heat  or 

In  different  bodies. 

In  the  same  body. 

light,  these  tables  may  be  thus  conceived  : 

There  is  no  solid  body  natu 

In  Jlnimals. 

rally  hot. 

.                          . 

Heat. 

Light. 

All  bodies  are  in  different  de 
grees  capable  of  heat. 

Animal  neat  varies  from  mi 
nute  perceptibility  to  about 

The  Sun's  direct  Rays. 

The  Heavenly  Bodies. 

There  is  no  whole  vegetable 

the  heat  of  the  hottest  day. 
It  is  always  endurable.     It 

Forked  Lightning. 

Rotten  Wood. 

hot  to  the  external  touch. 

is  increased  by  food,  venerv, 

Flame. 

Putrid  scales  of  Fish. 

Living  animals. 

exercise,  fever,  &c. 

Blood  of  Terrestrial  Animals. 

Glow  Worms. 

Flame. 

In  some  fevers    the    heat   is 

Living  Animals. 

Sugar  scraped. 

Anvil  struck  by  hammer. 

constant,  in  others  intermit 

Pepper  masticated, 

Eyes  of  certain  Animals. 

The  continuance  of  a  body  in 

tent,  <Scc. 

&c.  &c. 

Drops  of  Salt  Water  from  ours. 

heat. 

Heat  varies  in  different  parts 

Silk  Stockings  rubbed. 
&c.  &c. 

Boiling  water. 
Pepper  masticated. 

of  the  same  body. 
Animals  differ  in  heat,  &c. 

Boiling  lead. 

Such  is  the  object  of  his  first  or  affirmative  table, 

Gas. 

Flame. 

which,  he  warns  his  reader,  is  not  to  raise  the  edi 

Lightning. 

1.  The  lambent  flame,  related 

fice,   but  merely  to   collect  the   materials,   and 
which  is,  therefore,  to  be  made  without  any  hasty 

Acids, 
&c.  &c. 

by  historians  to  have  ap 
peared  on  the    heads  of 
children,    gently    playing 

indulgence   of  speculation,    although   the   mind 

about  the  hair. 

may,  in  proportion  to  its  ingenuity,  accidentally, 
from  an  inspection  of  affirmative  instances,  arrive 

2.  The  coruscations  seen  in  a 
clear  night  on  a  sweating 
horse. 

at  a  just  conclusion. 

3.  Of  the  glow-worm. 

4.  Of  the  ignis  fatuus. 

5.  Of  spirits  of  wine. 

TABLE  II. 

6.  Of  vegetables,  straw,   dry 

leaves. 

The  second,  or  Negative  Table,  consists  of  a 

7.  Of  boiling  metals. 
8.  Of  blast  furnaces. 

By  observing  this  table,  it  appears  that  the 
blood  of  all  animals  is  not  hot.  This  table,  there 
fore,  prevents  hasty  generalization :  "As  if  Samuel 
should  have  rested  in  those  sons  of  Jesse  which 
were  brought  before  him  in  the  house,  and  should 
not  have  sought  David,  who  was  absent  in  the 
field." 

By  observing  the  table,  it  also  appears,  that 
boiling  water  is  hot;  ice  is  cold  : — living  bodies 
are  hot ;  dead  bodies  are  cold; — but  in  boiling 
water  and  in  living  bodies  there  is  motion  of 
parts  :  in  ice  and  dead  bodies  they  are  fixed. 

VOL.  I.— (11) 


By  observing  in  this  table  the  cause  of  the  dif 
ferent  quantities  of  the  nature  sought,  some  ap 
proximation  may  be  made  to  the  nature  itself. 
Thus,  vegetables,  or  common  water,  do  not  exhi 
bit  heat  to  the  touch,  but  masticated  pepper  or 
boiling  water  are  hot.  Flame  is  hotter  than  the 
human  body  :  boiling  water  than  warm.  Is  there 
any  difference  except  in  the  motion  of  the  parts  ] 

TABLE  IV. 

Or  of  Exclusions,  is  of  a  more  complicated  nature. 
Bacon  assumes  that  the  quality  of  any  nature  can  be 
ascertained  by  its  being  always  present  when 
the  sought  nature  is  present :  is  always  absent 
when  the  sought  nature  is  absent :  increases  always 
with  its  increase,  and  decreases  with  its  decrease. 
Upon  this  principle  his  table  of  exclusion  is 
formed,  by  excluding,  1st,  Such  particular  natures 
as  are  not  found  in  any  instances  where  the  given 
nature  is  present ;  or,  2d,  Such  as  are  found  in  any 
instances  where  that  nature  is  absent;  and,  3d, 


Ixxxii 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Such  as  are  found  to  increase  in   any  instance 
when  the  given  nature  decreases;  or,  4th,  To  de 
crease  when  that  nature  increases.  Thus, 

Natures  not  always  present  with 
the  sought  nature. 

Nature  varying  according   to 
some  inverse  law  of  the 
sought  nature. 

Which  may  be 
absent   when 
the  sought  na 
ture  is  present 

Which  may  be 
present  when 
the  sought  na 
ture  is  absent. 

Which  may  in 
crease  as  the 
sought  nature 
decreases. 

Which  may  de 
crease  as  the 
sought  nature 
increases. 

Light. 
Quiescence  of 
parts, 

&c. 

Fluidity. 
Motion  of  the 
whole  body. 
Quiescence  of 
parts. 

Quiescence  of 
parts, 
&c. 

Light. 
Iron    may    be 
heated    to    a 
greater    heat 
than  the,  flume 
of    spirit    of 
wine. 
Quiescence  of 
parts, 
&c. 

The  object  of  this  exclusion  is  to  make  a  per 
fect  resolution  and  separation  of  nature,  not  by  fire, 
but  by  the  mind,  which  is,  as  it  were,  the  divine 
fire:  that,  after  this  rejection  and  exclusion  is 
duly  made,  the  affirmative,  solid,  true,  and  well- 
defined  form  will  remain  as  the  result  of  the  ope 
ration,  whilst  the  volatile  opinions  go  off  in  fume. 

TABLE  v. 

The  fifth  table  of  Results,  termed  the  first 
vintage  or  dawn  of  doctrine,  consists  of  a  collec 
tion  of  such  natures  as  always  accompany  the 
sought  nature,  increase  with  its  increase,  and  de 
crease  with  its  decrease. 

It  appears,  that,  in  all  instances,  the  nature  of 
heat  is  motion  of  parts;  —  flame  is  perpetually  in 
motion  ;  —  hot  or  boiling  liquors  are  in  continual 
agitation  ;  —  the  sharpness  and  intensity  of  heat 
is  increased  by  motion,  as  in  bellows  and  blasts  ; 
—  existing  fire  and  heat  are  extinguished  by  strong 
compression,  which  checks  and  puts  a  stop  to  all 
motion  ;  —  all  bodies  are  destroyed,  or  at  least 
remarkably  altered,  by  heat;  and,  when  heat 
wholly  escapes  from  the  body,  it  rests  from  its 
labours  ;  and  hence  it  appears,  that  heat  is  mo 
tion,  and  nothing  else. 

Having  collected  and  winnowed,  by  the  various 
tables,  the  different  facts  presented  to  the  senses, 
he  proposed  to  examine  them  by  nine  different 
processes  :  of  which  he  has  investigated  only  the 
first,  or  PREROGATIVE  INSTANCES,  those  instances 
by  which  the  nature  sought  is  most  easily  disco 
vered.  They  may  be  thus  exhibited  : 


Solitary. 


r\.  Contracting  the 
inquiries  with. 

in.  narrow    1;" 


n  of 

irrelevante.    ,  > 

[5.  Constituent 

1.  Patent  and  Latent. 

2.  Maxima.    Minima. 
2.  Nature    con-    3.  Frontier. 

spicuous,     1  4.  Singular. 


2.  Reality  and  Appearances. 

3.  Resemblances  arid  Differences. 


1.    EXCLUSION    OF    IRRELEVANTS. 

Solitary  Instances. — If  the  inquiry  be  into  the 
nature  of  colour :  a  rainbow  and  a  piece  of  glass 
in  a  stable  window,  differ  in  every  thing  except 
in  the  prismatic  colours;  they  are  therefore  soli 
tary  in  resemblance.  The  different  parts  of  the 
same  piece  of  marble,  the  different  parts  of  a 
leaf  of  a  variegated  tulip,  agree  in  every  thing, 
save  the  colour ;  they  are,  therefore,  solitary  in 
difference. 

By  thus  contracting  the  limits  of  the  inquiry, 
may  it  not  possibly  be  inferred,  that  colour  de 
pends  upon  refraction  of  the  rays  of  light  1 

Nature  in  motion. — Observe  nature  in  her  pro 
cesses.  If  any  man  desired  to  consider  and  ex 
amine  the  contrivances  and  industry  of  a  certain 
artificer,  he  would  not  be  content  to  view  only  the 
rude  materials  of  the  workman,  and  then  immedi 
ately  the  finished  work,  but  covet  to  be  present 
whilst  the  artist  prosecutes  his  labour,  and  exer 
cises  his  skill.  And  the  like  course  should  be 
taken  in  the  works  of  nature. 

Travelling  Instances. — In  inquiring  into  any 
nature,  observe  its  progress  in  approaching  to  or 
receding  from  existence.  Let  the  inquiry  be 
into  the  nature  of  whiteness.  Take  a  piece  of 
clear  glass  and  a  vessel  of  clear  water,  pound  the 
glass  into  fine  dust  and  agitate  the  water,  the 
pulverised  glass  and  the  surface  of  the  water  will 
appear  white;  and  this  whiteness  will  have  tra 
velled  from  non-existence  into  existence.  Again, 
take  a  vessel  full  of  any  liquor  with  froth  at  the 
top,  or  take  snow,  let  the  froth  subside  and  the 
snow  melt;  the  whiteness  will  disappear,  and 
will  have  travelled  from  existence  to  non-exist 
ence. 

Journeying  Instances. — In  inquiring  into  any 
nature,  observe  its  motions  gradually  continued  or 
contracted.  An  inquirer  into  the  vegetation  of 
plants  should  have  an  eye  from  the  first  sowing 
of  the  seed,  and  examine  it  almost  every  day,  by 
taking  or  plucking  up  a  seed  after  it  had  remained 
for  one,  two,  or  three  days  in  the  ground  ;  to  ob 
serve  with  diligence  when,  and  in  what  manner 
the  seed  begins  to  swell,  grow  plump,  and 
be  filled  or  become  turgid,  as  it  were,  with 
spirit ;  next,  how  it  bursts  the  skin,  and  strikes 
its  fibres  with  some  tendency  upwards,  unless  the 
earth  be  very  stubborn ;  how  it  shoots  its  fibres 
in  part,  to  constitute  roots  downwards;  in  part, 
to  form  stems  upwards,  and  sometimes  creeping 
sideways,  if  it  there  find  the  earth  more  open, 
pervious,  and  yielding,  with  many  particulars  of 
the  same  kind.  And  the  like  should  be  done  as 
to  eggs  during  their  hatching,  where  the  whole 
process  of  vivification  and  organization  might  be 
easily  viewed ;  and  what  becomes  of  the  yolk, 
what  of  the  white,  &c.  The  same  is  also  to  be 
attempted  in  inanimate  bodies ;  and  this  we 
have  endeavoured  after,  by  observing  the  ways 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixxxiii 


wherein  liquors  open  themselves  by  fire ;  for  water 
opens  one  way,  wine  another,  verjuice  another, 
and  milk,  oil,  &c.,  with  a  still  greater  difference. 
Constituent  Instances, — In  inquiring  into  any 
nature,  separate  complex  into  simple  natures. 
Let  the  nature  sought  be  memory,  or  the  means 
of  exciting  and  helping  the  memory:  the  consti 
tuent  instances  may  be  thus  exhibited  : 

(  l    Thf>  mtipiit  $  "•  The  mind  free. 
,\,  The  art  of  making'  lf   J  he  Patient-  \  2.  The  mind  agitated. 

stron,  impressions.  ,  ,    Varie(y  Qf  -impres,lon. 

I  2.  Slowness  of  impression. 


j  2.  The  art  of  recalling 
1.         impressions. 


1.  Cutting  off  infinity.-' 


2.  Places   for   artificial   me- 


elleetual  to  sensible  things. 


Such  are  specimens  of  his  mode  of  excluding 
irrelevant  natures. 


2.    OBSERVING    THE    NATURE    WHERE    MOST    CON 
SPICUOUS,    OR    INSTANCES    OF    EXTREMES. 

Patent  and  Latent  Instances.  In  inquiring  into 
any  nature,  observe  where  the  nature,  in  its  usual 
state,  appears  most  conspicuous,  and  where  it 
appears  in  its  weakest  and  most  imperfect  state. 

The  loadstone  is  a  glaring  instance  of  attrac 
tion.  The  thermometer  is  a  glaring  instance  of 
the  expansive  nature  of  heat.  Flame  exhibits  its 
expansive  nature  to  the  sense,  but  it  is  momentary 
and  vanishes.  Again,  let  the  inquiry  be  into  the 
nature  of  solidity,  the  contrary  of  which  is  fluid 
ity.  Froth,  snow,  bubbles,  whether  of  soap  and 
water,  blown  by  children,  or  those  which  may  be 
seen  occasionally  on  the  surface  of  a  fluid  or  on  the 
side  of  a  vessel,  or  the  looking-glasses  made  of 
spittle  by  children  in  a  loop  of  a  single  hair  or  a 
rush,  where  we  see  a  consistent  pellicule  of  water, 
like  infant  ice,  exhibit  solidity  in  its  most  feeble 
states. 

Maxima  and  Minima.  In  inquiring  into  any 
nature,  observe  it  in  its  extremes,  or  its  maxima 
and  minima.  Gold  in  weight;  iron  in  hardness; 
the  whale  in  bulk  of  animal  bodies;  the  hound 
in  scent ;  the  explosion  of  gunpowder  in  sudden 
expansion,  are  instances  of  maxima.  The  minute 
worms  in  the  skin  is  an  instance  of  minimum  in 
animal  bulk. 

Frontier  Instances.  Observe  those  species  of 
bodies  which  seem  composed  of  two  species  ;  as 
moss,  which  is  something  betwixt  putrefaction 
and  a  plant ;  flying  fishes,  which  are  a  species 
betwixt  birds  and  fish  ;  bats,  which  are  betwixt 
birds  and  quadrupeds  ;  the  beast  so  like  ourselves, 
the  ape  ;  the  biformed  births  of  animals ;  the 
mixtures  of  different  species,  &c. 

Singular  Instances.  In  inquiring  into  any  na 
ture,  observe  those  instances  which,  in  regular 
course,  are  solitary  amidst  their  own  natures. 
Quicksilver  amongst  metals ;  the  power  of  the 
carrier  pigeon  to  return  to  the  place  from  whence 


it  was  carried  ;  the  scent  of  the  bloodhound  ;  the 
loadstone  amongst  stones;  that  species  of  flowers 
which  do  not  die  when  plucked  from  the  stalk, 
but  continue  their  colours  and  forms  unaltered 
through  the  winter.  So  with  grammarians  the 
letter  G  is  held  singular  for  the  easiness  of  its 
composition  with  consonants,  sometimes  with 
double  and  sometimes  with  triple  ones,  which  is 
a  property  of  no  other  letter.  So  the  number  9 
amongst  figures  possesses  the  peculiar  property, 
that  the  sum  of  the  digits  of  all  its  multiples 
is  9.1 

Instances  of  Divorce. — Observe  the  separation  of 
such  natures  as  are  generally  united.  Light  and 
heat  are  generally  united  ;  but  in  a  cold  moonlight 
night  there  is  light  without  heat,  and  in  hot  water 
there  is  heat  without  light.  The  action  of  one 
body  upon  another  is  in  general  affected  by  the 
medium  through  which  it  acts  ;  thus  sound  va 
ries  with  the  state  of  the  atmosphere,  and  through 
a  thick  wall  is  scarcely  perceptible.  The  mag 
netic  attraction  seems  to  be  an  instance  of 
divorce,  as  it  acts  indifferently  through  all  me 
diums. 

Deviating  Instances.  Observe  nature  when  ap 
parently  deviating  from  her  accustomed  course ; 
as  in  all  cases  of  monsters,  prodigious  births, 
&c.  He  who  knows  the  ways  of  nature  will 
the  easier  observe  her  deviations ;  and  he  who 
knows  her  deviations,  will  more  exactly  describe 
her  ways.  For  the  business  in  this  matter  is  no 
more  than  by  quick  scent  to  trace  out  the  footways 
of  nature  in  her  wilful  wanderings,  that  so  after 
ward  you  may  be  able  at  your  pleasure  to  lead  or 
force  her  to  the  same  place  and  posture  again.  As 
a  man's  disposition  is  never  well  known  till  he  be 
crossed,  nor  did  Proteus  ever  change  shapes  till 
he  was  straitened  and  held  fast. 

Such  are  specimens  of  his  modes  of  viewing 
nature  where  most  conspicuous. 

3.    FIXING    THE    REAL,    BETWEEN  DIFFERENT  APPA 
RENT  CAUSES. 

Crucial  Instances.  When,  in  inquiring  into  any 
particular  nature,  the  mind  is  in  aequilibrio  between 
two  causes,  observe  if  there  is  not  some  instance 
hich  marks  the  cause  of  the  sought  nature.  Let 
the  nature  sought  be  gravity.  Heavy  bodies, 
laving  a  tendency  to  the  earth,  must  fall  ex  mero 
notu,  from  their  own  construction,  or  be  attracted 
jy  the  earth.  Let  two  equal  bodies  fall  through 
3qual  spaces  at  different  distances  from  the  earth, 
md  if  they  fall  through  these  equal  spaces  in  un 
equal  times,  the  descent  is  influenced  by  the  at- 
raction  of  the  earth. 


1  Thus  9X2=18  and  8+1=9. 
9x3=27  and  2+7=9. 
9X1 1=99  and  9  +  9=18  and  1+8=9 


Ixxxiv 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


4.    RESEMBLANCES    AND    DIFFERENCES. 

Observe  resemblances  between  apparent  differences. 
— Are  not  gums  of  trees  and  gems  produced  in 
the  same  manner,  both  of  them  being  only  exu 
dations  and  percolations  of  juices:  gums  being  the 
transuded  juices  of  trees,  and  gems  of  stones  ; 
whence  the  clearness  and  transparency  of  them 
both  are  produced  by  means  of  a  curious  and  ex 
quisite  percolation  T — Are  not  the  hairs  of  beasts 
and  the  feathers  of  birds  produced  in  the  same 
manner,  by  the  percolation  of  juices'?  and  are  not 
the  colours  of  feathers  more  beautiful  and  vivid, 
because  the  juices  are  more  subtilely  strained 
through  the  substance  of  the  quill  in  birds  than 
through  the  skins  of  beasts  1  Do  not  the  celes 
tial  bodies  move  in  their  orbits  by  the  same  laws 
which  govern  the  motions  of  the  bodies  terres 
trial. 

From  the  conformity  between  a  speculum  and 
the  eye,  the  structure  of  the  ear  and  of  the  cavernous 
places  that  yield  an  echo,  it  is  easy  to  form  and 
collect  this  axiom, — that  the  organs  of  the  senses, 
and  the  bodies  that  procure  reflections  to  the 
senses,  are  of  a  like  nature.  And,  again,  the  un 
derstanding  being  thus  admonished,  easily  rises 
to  a  still  higher  and  more  noble  axiom;  viz., 
that  there  is  no  difference  between  the  consents 
and  sympathies  of  bodies  endowed  with  sense, 
and  those  of  inanimate  bodies  without  sense, 
only  that  in  the  former  an  animal  spirit  is  added 
to  the  body  so  disposed,  but  is  wanting  to  the 
latter;  whence,  as  many  conformities  as  there  are 
among  inanimate  bodies,  so  many  senses  there 
might  be  in  animals,  provided  there  were  organs 
or  perforations  in  the  animal  body,  for  the  animal 
spirit  to  act  upon  the  parts  rightly  disposed ,  as  upon 
a  proper  instrument.  And,  conversely,  as  many 
senses  as  there  are  in  animals,  so  many  motions 
there  may  be  in  bodies  inanimate,  where  the  ani 
mal  spirit  is  wanting  ;  though  there  must,  of  ne 
cessity,  be  many  more  motions  in  inanimate  bo 
dies  than  there  are  senses  in  animate  bodies,  be 
cause  of  the  small  number  of  the  organs  of  sense. 

Beal  differences  in  apparent  resemblances. — Do 
any  two  beings  differ  more  from  each  other  than 
two  human  beings'?  Men's  curiosity  and  diligence 
have  been  hitherto  principally  employed  in  ob 
serving  the  variety  of  things,  and  explaining  the 
precise  differences  of  animals,  vegetables,  and 
fossils,  the  greatest  part  of  which  variety  and  dif 
ferences  are  rather  the  sport  of  nature,  than  mat 
ters  of  any  considerable  and  solid  use  to  the 
sciences.  Such  things,  indeed,  serve  for  delight, 
and  sometimes  contribute  to  practice,  but  afford 
little  or  no  true  information,  or  thorough  insight 
into  nature  ;  human  industry,  therefore,  must  be 
bent  upon  inquiring  into,  and  observing  the  simi 
litudes  and  analogies  of  things,  as  well  in  their 
wholes  as  in  their  parts;  for  these  are  what 
anite  nature,  and  begin  to  build  up  the  sciences. 


Such  are  specimens,  mere  specimens,  of  this 
most  valuable  of  all  his  works,  and  by  him 
most  highly  valued.  It  is  written  in  a  plain,  un 
adorned  style,  in  aphorisms,  invariably  stated  bv 
him  to  be  the  proper  style  for  philosophy,  which, 
conscious  of  its  own  power,  ought  to  go  forth 
"  naked  and  unarmed  ;"  but,  from  the  want  of 
symmetry  and  ornament,  from  its  abstruseness, 
from  the  novelty  of  its  terms,  and  from  the  imper 
fect  state  in  which  it  was  published,  it  has,  al 
though  the  most  valuable,  hitherto  been  too  much 
neglected  :  but  it  will  not  so  continue.  The  time 
has  arrived,  or  is  fast  approaching,  when  the 
pleasures  of  intellectual  pursuit  will  have  so 
deeply  pervaded  society,  that  they  will,  to  a  con 
siderable  extent,  form  the  pleasures  of  our  youth  ; 
and  the  lamentation  in  the  Advancement  of  Learn 
ing  will  be  diminished  or  pass  away  :  "  Never 
theless,  I  do  not  pretend,  and  I  know  it  will  be 
impossible  for  me,  by  any  pleading  of  mine,  to 
reverse  the  judgment,  either  of  ^Esop's  cock,  that 
preferred  the  barley-corn  before  the  gem ;  or  of 
Midas,  that,  being  chosen  judge  between  Apollo, 
president  of  the  muses,  and  Pan,  god  of  the  nocks; 
judged  for  plenty;  or  of  Paris,  that  judged  for 
beauty  and  love,  against  wisdom  and  power;  or 
of  Agrippina,  'occidat  matrem  modo  imperet,' 
that  preferred  empire  with  any  condition,  never  so 
detestable  ;  or  of  Ulysses,  '  qui  vetulam  praelulit 
immortalitati,'  being  a  figure  of  those  which 
prefer  custom  and  habit  before  all  excellency  ;  or 
of  a  number  of  the  like  popular  judgments.  For 
these  things  must  continue  as  they  have  been : 
but  so  will  that  also  continue,  whereupon  learn 
ing  hath  ever  relied,  and  which  faileth  not: 
'justilicata  est  sapientia  a  filiis  suis.'  '; 

Copies  of  the  work  were  sent  to  the  king,  the 
University  of  Cambridge,  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  and 
Sir  Ed  ward  Coke. 

The  tranquil  pursuits  of  philosophy  he  was 
now,  (1020.)  for  a  time,  obliged  to  quit,  to  allay,  if 
possible,  the  political  storm  in  which  the  state 
was  involved,  and  which  he  vainly  thought  that 
he  hud  the  power  to  calm.  It  is  scarcely  possible 
for  any  chancellor  to  have  been  placed  in  a  situa 
tion  of  greater  difficulty.  He  knew  the  work 
that  must  be  done,  and  the  nature  of  his  materials. 

The  king,  who  was  utterly  dependent  upon  the 
people,  was  every  day  resorting  to  expedients 
which  widened  the  breach  between  them  :  despotic 
without  dignity,  and  profuse  without  magnifi 
cence,  meanly  grasping,  and  idly  scattering 
neither  winning  their  love,  nor  commanding  their 
reverence,  he  seemed  in  all  things  the  reverse  of 
his  illustrious  predecessor,  cxceptin  what  could  be 
well  spared,  the  arbitrary  spirit  common  to  them 
both.  While  the  people  were  harassed  and  pil 
laged  by  the  wretches  to  whom  the  king  had  de 
legated  his  authority,  he  reaped  only  part  of  the 
spoil,  but  all  the  odium. 

The  chancellor  had  repeatedly  assured  the  king 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixxxv 


that  his  best  interests,  which  consisted  in  a  good 
understanding  with  his  subjects,  could  be  main 
tained  only  by  calling  frequent  parliaments  :  ad 
vice  not  likely  to  be  acceptable  to  a  monarch  who 
had  issued  a  proclamation,  commanding  all  his 
people,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  "not  to 
intermeddle,  by  pen  or  speech,  with  state  concern 
ments  and  secrets  of  empire,  at  home  or  abroad, 
which  were  not  fit  themes  for  common  meetings 
or  vulgar  persons;"  but,  whatever  their  secret 
dissatisfaction  might  be,  the  whole  body  of  the 
nation  manifested  so  much  zeal  for  the  recovery 
of  the  palatinate,  that  the  juncture  was  deemed 
favourable  for  relieving  the  king's  pecuniary  dif 
ficulties,  who  consented  with  this  view  to  sum 
mon  a  parliament. 

This  resolution  was  no  sooner  formed,  than  the 
chancellor  was  instructed  to  confer  with  the  most 
proper  persons  as  to  the  best  means  of  carrying 
it  into  effect;  and  he  accordingly  availed  himself 
of  the  assistance  of  the  two  chief  justices,  and  of 
Serjeant  Crew,  who,  after  mature  deliberation, 
agreed  upon  four  points,  which  were  immediately 
communicated  to  his  majesty  and  to  Buckingham. 

Different  days  were  fixed  for  the  meeting  of 
this  eventful  parliament,  which  was  called  with 
a  full  knowledge  of  the  king's  motive  for  sum 
moning  them;  and  that,  had  not  the  expedient 
respecting  benevolence  wholly  failed,  this  council 
of  the  nation  would  never  have  been  assembled ; 
as  the  king  considered  the  Commons  "  daring  en- 
croachers  upon  his  prerogative;  endeavouring  to 
make  themselves  greater,  and  their  prince  less, 
xhan  became  either." 

Previous  to  the  meeting,  the  lord  chancellor 
was  raised  to  the  dignity  of  Viscount  St.  Alban,  by 
a  patent  which  stated  that  the  king  had  conferred 
this  title  because  he  thought  nothing  could  adorn 
his  government  more  or  afford  greater  encourage 
ment  to  virtue  and  public  spirit,  than  the  rais 
ing  worthy  persons  to  honour  ;  and  with  this  new 
dignity,  he,  on  the  27th  day  of  January,  was  with 
great  ceremony  invested  at  Theobalds,  the  patent 
being  witnessed  by  the  most  illustrious  peers  of 
the  realm,  the  Lord  Carew  carrying,  and  the 
Marquess  of  Buckingham  supporting  the  robe  of 
state  before  him,  while  his  coronet  was  borne  by 
the  Lord  Wentworth.  The  new  viscount  return 
ed  solemn  thanks  to  the  king  for  the  many  fa 
vours  bestowed  upon  him. 

The  thirtieth  of  January,  an  ominous  day  to 
the  family  of  the  Stuarts,  was  at  last  fixed  for  the 
king  to  meet  his  people,  writhing  as  they  were 
under  tiie  intolerable  grievances  by  which  they 
were  oppressed  ;  grievances  which,  notwithstand 
ing  tic  warnings  and  admonitions  addressed  to  the 
king  when  he  ascended  the  throne,  had  most  cul 
pably  increased.  Power,  not  only  tenacious  in 
retaining1  its  authority,  but  ever  prone  to  increase 
its  exactions,  may  disregard  the  progress  of 
knowledge,  but  it  is  never  disregarded  with  im 


punity.  Truth,  the  daughter  of  time,  not  of  au 
thority,  is  constantly  warning  the  community  in 
what  their  interests  consist,  and  that  to  protect, 
not  to  encroach  upon  these  interests,  all  govern 
ments  are  formed. 

Upon  the  opening  of  parliament  the  king  ad 
dressed  the  Commons.  He  stated  his  opinion  of 
their  relative  duties :  that  he  was  to  distribute 
justice  and  mercy ;  and  they,  without  meddling 
with  his  prerogative,  were  by  petition  to  acquaint 
him  with  their  distresses,  and  were  to  supply  his 
pecuniary  wants. 

At  first  there  appeared  nothing  but  duty  and 
submission  on  the  part  of  the  Commons.  Deter 
mined,  if  possible,  to  maintain  a  good  correspond 
ence  with  their  prince,  they  without  one  dissenting 
voice  voted  him  two  subsidies,  and  that  too  at  the 
very  beginning  of  the  session,  contrary  to  the 
maxims  frequently  adopted  by  former  parliaments. 
They  then  proceeded,  in  a  very  temperate  and 
decided  manner,  to  the  examination  of  their  op 
pressions,  intimating  that  the  supply  of  the  king's 
distresses  and  the  removal  of  their  vexations  were 
to  advance  hand  in  hand  without  precedency,  as 
twin  brothers. 

Of  their  grievances  the  Commons  loudly  and 
justly  complained.  Under  the  pretext  of  granting 
patents,  the  creatures  of  Buckingham  had  rapa 
ciously  exacted  large  fees.  These  exactions  can 
scarcely  be  credited.  There  were  patents  for 
every  necessary  and  convenience  of  life  ;  for  gold 
and  silver  thread ;  for  inns  and  ale-houses ;  for 
remitting  the  penalties  of  obsolete  laws,  and  even 
for  the  price  of  horse-meat,  starch,  candles,  to 
bacco-pipes,  salt,  and  train-oil ;  and  such  traders 
as  presumed  to  continue  their  business  without 
satisfying  the  rapacity  of  the  patentees,  had  been 
severely  punished  by  vexatious  prosecutions,  fine, 
and  imprisonment.  The  outcries  of  the  subject 
were  incessant.  "  Monopolies  and  briberies  were 
beaten  upon  the  anvil  every  day,  almost  every 
hour."  The  complaints  were  so  numerous  that 
not  less  than  eighty  committees  to  redress  abuses 
in  the  church,  in  the  courts  of  law,  and  in  every  de 
partment  of  the  state,  were  immediately  nominated. 

From  the  mass  of  evils  under  consideration,  the 
House  first  directed  its  attention  to  the  three  great 
patents,  of  inns,  of  ale-houses,  and  of  gold  and 
silver  thread.  The  chief  actors  were  Sir  Giles 
Mompesson,  a  man  of  property,  and  a  member  of 
the  house,  and  Sir  Francis  Michell,  his  tool,  a 
poor  justice,  who  received  annually  s6lOO  for  issu 
ing  warrants  to  enforce  his  tyranny.  The  rage  for 
punishment  was  not  confined  to  Mompesson  and 
Michell.  Sir  Henry  Yelverton,  the  attoiney- 
general,  who  had  incurred  the  displeasure  of 
Buckingham,  was  prosecuted  and  severely  punish 
ed,  for  some  irregularity  respecting  a  patent  for  a 
charter  for  the  city  of  London. 

It  appeared  before  a  committee  of  the  house, 
that  the  profits  from  these  patents  were  shared  by 


Ixxxvi 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


all  classes  of  society  who  were  connected  with 
Buckingham.  Amongst  the  patentees  were  the 
Lord  Harrington  and  the  Countess  of  Bedford. 
Christopher  Villiers,  and  Sir  Edward  Villiers, 
half-brother  of  the  lord  marquis,  received  £1,800 
annually  between  them;  and  from  one  single 
patent  the  king's  annual  profit  was  £  10,000. 

These  rumours  reached  and  alarmed  the  king, 
who  instantly  caused  a  communication  to  be  made 
to  the  lords,  that  the  patent  was  sanctioned  by 
divers  of  the  judges  for  the  point  of  law,  and  by 
divers  lords  for  point  of  convenience. 

Reform  was  now  the  universal  cry  of  the  na 
tion.  It  was  one  of  those  periodical  outcries, 
which  ever  has  been  and  ever  will  be  heard  in 
England,  till,  by  admitting  the  gradual  improve 
ment  which  the  progress  of  knowledge  requires, 
the  current,  instead  of  being  opposed,  is  judi 
ciously  directed.  The  streams  which  for  cen 
turies  roll  on,  and  for  centuries  are  impeded,  at 
last  break  down  or  rush  over  the  barriers  and 
carry  every  thing  before  them.  When  in  this 
deluge  the  ark  itself  is  in  danger,  the  patriot  en 
deavours  to  confine  the  torrent  within  its  proper 
banks,  and  .to  resist  or  direct  its  impetuosity, 
while  the  demagogue  joins  in  the  popular  clamour, 
visiting  on  individuals  the  faults  of  the  times,  and 
sacrificing,  as  an  atonement  to  injured  feeling, 
the  most  virtuous  members  of  the  community. 

When  the  complaints  of  the  people  could  no 
longer  be  resisted,  and  public  inquiry  became 
inevitable,  Buckingham,  insensible  to  all  other 
shame,  appeared  fully  conscious  of  the  infamy 
of  exposure.  The  honour  of  a  gentleman  and  the 
pride  of  nobility  slept  at  ease  upon  the  money 
bags  extorted  from  the  sufferers,  but  he  and  his 
noble  colleagues  endured  the  utmost  alarm  at  the 
prospect  of  discovery. 

Conscious  of  his  peril,  disquieted,  and  robbed 
of  all  peace  of  mind,  admonished  "That  the. 
arrow  of  vengeance  shot  against  his  brother 
grazed  himself,"  he  consulted  one  of  the  ablest 
men  in  England,  Williams,  then  Dean  of  West 
minster,  who,  well  versed  in  matters  of  state, 
soon  saw  the  position  in  which  all  parties  were 
placed.  He  recommended  that  Villiers  should, 
without  a  moment's  delay,  be  sent  upon  some 
foreign  embassy  ;  and,  his  guilt  being  less  enor 
mous  or  less  apparent  than  of  the  other  offenders, 
he  was  thus  protected  by  the  power  of  his  brother. 
Villiers  being  safe,  Williams  advised  compliance 
with  the  humour  of  the  people,  and  suggested 
that  in  this  state  tempest  Sir  Giles  Mompesson 
and  Sir  F.  Michell  "should  be  thrown  overboard 
as  wares  that  might  be  spared,"  quoting  a  wise 
heathen  as  a  precedent,  well  knowing  that  his 
breviary  contained  no  such  doctrine :  advice 
which  was  gratefully  received  by  the  marquis, 
who  declared  that,  for  the  future,  he  would  attend 
to  no  other  counsellor. 

It  may,  at  first  sight,  appear  remarkable,  that, 


in  matters  of  such  moment,  Buckingham  should 
apply  for  counsel  to  Williams  rather  than  to 
Bacon,  by  whose  advice  he  professed  to  be  al 
ways  guided  :  it  is,  however,  certain  that  he  not 
only  communicated  privately  with  Wrilliams,  but 
that  he  carried  him  to  the  king,  whom  they  found 
closeted  with  the  prince,  in  much  distress  and 
perplexity,  when  the  dean  read  to  his  royal 
master  a  document  prepared  at  the  suggestion 
of  Buckingham,  or  the  fruit  of  his  own  politic- 
brain. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  fiend  ambition  did  not 
so  far  possess  him,  as  to  recommend  the  greater 
sacrifice  of  Bacon,  should  Mompesson  and  Michell 
be  deemed  insufficient  to  allay  the  storm  ;  but  if 
ambition  did  influence  this  politic  prelate,  if  the 
vision  of  the  seals  floated  before  him,  and  induced 
him  to  plot  against  the  "  gracious  Duncan,"  he 
could  not  but  foresee  that  the  result  of  the  in 
quiries  would  only  convince  the  parliament  that 
Mompesson  and  Michell  were  mere  puppets 
moved  for  the  profit  and  advantage  of  others,  and 
that  Buckingham,  or  one  as  highly  placed,  might 
be  demanded. 

On  the  15th  of  March,  1G20,  Sir  Robert 
Phillips  reported  from  the  committee  appointed  to 
inquire  into  the  abuses  of  courts  of  justice,  of 
which  he  was  chairman,  that  two  petitions  had 
been  presented  for  corruption  against  the  lord 
chancellor,  by  two  suitors  in  the  court  of  chan 
cery,  the  one  named  Aubrey,  the  other  Egerton. 

Aubrey's  petition  stated,  "That  having  a  suit 
pending  before  the  lord  chancellor,  and  being 
worn  out  by  delays,  he  had  been  advised  by  his 
counsel  to  present  £100  to  the  chancellor,  that 
his  cause  might,  by  more  than  ordinary  means, 
be  expedited,  and  that  in  consequence  of  this 
advice  he  had  delivered  the  £100  to  Sir  George 
Hastings  and  to  Mr.  Jenkins,  of  Gray's  Inn,  by 
whom  it  was  presented  to  his  lordship  ;  but  not 
withstanding  this  offering,  the  chancellor  had  de 
cided  against  him." 

Egerton's  complaint  was,  that  "To  procure  my 
lord's  favour,  he  had  been  persuaded  by  Sir 
George  Hastings  and  Sir  Richard  Young,  to  make 
some  present  to  the  chancellor ;  and  that  he  ac 
cordingly  delivered  to  Sir  George  and  to  Sir 
Richard  £400,  which  was  delivered  by  them  to 
the  chancellor  as  a  gratuity,  for  that  my  lord, 
when  attorney-general,  had  befriended  him  :  and 
that,  before  this  advice,  Egertgn  had  himself, 
either  before  or  after  the  chancellor  was  intrusted 
with  the  great  seal,  presented  to  his  lordship  a 
piece  of  plate  worth  fifty  guineas;  but  that,  not 
withstanding  these  presents,  the  lord  chancellor, 
assisted  by  Lord  Chief  Justice  Hobart,  had  de 
cided  against  him. 

If  Bacon,  instead  of  treating  the  charge  with 
contempt,  and  indulging  in  imaginations  of  the 
friendship  of  Buckingham  and  of  the  king,  think 
ing,  as  they  were,  only  of  their  own  safety,  liaii 


LIFE  OF  BACOiY. 


1XXXV11 


trusted  to  his  own  powerful  mind,  and  met  the 
accusation  instantly  and  with  vigour,  he  might  at 
once,  strong  as  the  tide  was  against  all  authority, 
have  stemmed  the  torrent,  and  satisfied  the  intel 
ligent,  that  the  fault  was  not  in  the  chancellor, 
but  the  chancery. 

Might  he  not  have  reminded  the  house  that, 
although  he  knew  the  temporary  power  of  custom 
against  opinion,  he,  in  resistance  of  the  establish 
ed  practice,  had  exerted  himself  to  prevent  any 
interference,  even  by  Buckingham  or  the  king,  in 
the  administration  of  justice,  by  which  the  im 
partiality  of  the  judges  might  be,  or  might  appear 
to  be  disturbed. 

Could  he  not  have  said  that  both  petitions 
contained  internal  and  unanswerable  proof  that 
it  was  not  the  corruption  of  the  judge,  but  the 
fault  of  the  times,  in  which  the  practice  ori 
ginated  !  Could  he  not  have  said  that  the 
presents  were  made  openly,  in  the  presence  of 
witnesses  ? 

How  could  these  offerings  have  influenced  his 
judgment  in  favour  of  the  donor,  when,  in  both 
cases,  he  decided  against  the  party  by  whom  the 
presents  were  made  ?  In  the  case  of  Aubrey,  he,  to 
repeat  the  strong  expressions  which  had  been  used, 
made  "  a  killing  decree  against  him  :"  and,  with 
respect  to  Egerton,  the  decision  was  in  favour  of 
his  opponent,  Rowland,  who  did  not  make  any 
present  until  some  weeks  after  the  judgment  was 
pronounced. 

But,  not  contenting  himself  by  thus  showing 
that  the  offerings  were  neither  presented  nor 
received  as  bribes,  could  he  not  have  said,  the 
petitions  both  state  that  the  presents  were  recom 
mended  by  counsel,  and  delivered  by  men  of  title 
and  members  of  parliament  1  Did  they  then  act 
in  compliance  with  long  established  practice,  or 
were  they  all  bribed  1  Were  the  practitioners  in 
this  noble  profession  polluted  by  being  accessory 
to  the  worst  species  of  bribery  ?  Why,  when  the 
charge  was  made,  did  the  recorder  instantly  say, 
"  If  Egerton  desired  to  congratulate  him  at  his 
coming  to  the  seal  for  his  kindness  and  pains  in 
former  business,  what  wrong  hath  he  done,  if  he 
hath  received  a  present  ?  And  if  there  were  a  suit 
depending,  who  keeps  a  register  in  his  heart  of  all 
causes  ?  nay,  who  can,  amongst  such  a  mul 
titude?" 

Could  he  not  have  said  that  the  custom  of  the 
chancellor's  receiving  presents  had  existed  from 
the  earliest  periods  ?  that  a  member  had  reminded 
the  house  of  its  existence,  and  said,  "  I  think  the 
chancellor  took  gratuities,  and  the  lord  chancellor 
before,  and  others  before  him  ?  I  have,  amongst 
the  muniments  of  my  own  estate,  an  entry  of  a 
payment  to  a  former  chancellor  of  a  sum  for  the 
pains  he  had  taken  in  hearing  our  cause." 

This  custom  of  judges  receiving  presents  was 
not  peculiar  to  England,  but  existed  in  the  most 
enlightened  governments ;  in  the  different  states 


of  Greece ;  in  all  feudal  states ;  in  France, 
where  the  suitors  always  presented  the  judge 
with  some  offering,  in  conformity  with  their  es 
tablished  maxim,  iiNon  deliberetur,  donee  solventur 
species;"  and  in  England,  from  time  immemorial. 
It  existed  before  the  time  of  King  John,  and  dur 
ing  his  reign;  and  notwithstanding  the  rights 
secured  at  Runnymede,  it  has  ever  continued. 
It  existed  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Fifth ;  and 
although,  during  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth, 
Sir  Thomas  More  declined  to  receive  presents, 
his  very  power  of  declining  proves  that  it  was  cus 
tomary  to  offer  them,  and,  in  conformity  with  this 
practice,  the  usual  presents  were  made  to  Lord 
Bacon  within  a  few  hours  after  he  had  accepted 
the  great  seal,  the  only  pecuniary  compensation, 
except  a  very  trifling  salary,  to  which  the  lord 
keeper  was  entitled  for  labours  never  intended  to 
be  gratuitous. 

What  could  have  been  said  in  answer  to  this 
statement,  that  the  presents  were  made  openly, 
that  the  decision  was  against  the  party  by  whom 
they  were  made,  and  that  they  were  made  by  the 
advice  of  counsel,  and  delivered  by  men  of  emi 
nence,  and  sanctioned  by  immemorial  practice  in 
this  and  in  all  countries  ? 

Might  he  not  have  called  upon  the  justice  of 
the  House  for  protection  from  the  aspersions  of 
two  discontented  suitors,  who  had  no  more  cause 
of  complaint  against  him  than  Wraynham,  by 
whom  he  was  slandered,  or  Lord  Clifford,  by 
whom  he  was  threatened  to  be  assassinated] 
Might  he  not  have  called  upon  the  house  for  pro 
tection  against  these  calumnies  at  a  time  when  the 
excited  people  wished  for  some  sacrifice,  as  a 
tribute  to  public  opinions,  an  atonement  for  public 
wrongs,  and  a  security  for  better  times  1 

The  people  are  often  censured  for  their  selec 
tion  of  a  victim,  but,  where  they  contend  for  a 
principle,  they  lose  sight  of  the  individual.  It  is 
this  dangerous  indifference  that  enables  bad  men 
to  direct,  for  private  ends,  a  popular  tumult.  The 
Jewish  people  demanded  merely  their  annual  pri 
vilege  ;  it  was  the  priests  who  said,  "  Save  Bar- 
rabas." 

On  the  17th  of  March  the  chancellor  presided, 
for  the  last  time,  in  the  House  of  Lords.  The 
charges  which  he  had  at  first  treated  with  indif 
ference,  were  daily  increasing,  and  could  no 
longer  be  disregarded.  From  the  pinnacle  on 
which  he  stood,  he  could  see  the  storm  gather 
ing  round  him  :  old  complaints  were  revived,  and 
new  accusations  industriously  collected ;  and, 
though  he  had  considered  himself  much  beloved  in 
both  houses  of  parliament,  he  felt  that  he  had 
secret  enemies,  and  began  to  fear  that  he  had  false 
friends.  He  resolved,  therefore,  to  meet  his 
accusers;  but  his  health,  always  delicate,  gave 
way,  and  instead  of  being  able  to  attend  in 
person,  he  was  obliged  by  wrriting  to  address  the 
House  of  Peers. 


Ixxxviii 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


To  the  Right  Honourable  his  very  good  Lords, 

the  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal  in  the  Upper 

House  of  Parliament  assembled. 

My  very  good  Lords, — I  humbly  pray  your 
lordships  all  to  make  a  favourable  and  true  con 
struction  of  my  absence.  It  is  no  feigning  or 
fainting,  but  sickness  both  of  my  heart  and  of 
my  back,  though  joined  with  that  comfort  of  mind 
that  persuadeth  me  that  I  am  not  far  from  heaven. 
\vhereof  I  feel  the  first-fruits.  And  because, 
whether  I  live  or  die,  I  would  be  glad  to  preserve 
my  honour  and  fame,  so  far  as  I  am  worthy, 
hearing  that  some  complaints  of  base  bribery  are 
coming  before  your  lordships,  my  requests  unto 
your  lordships  are : 

First,  that  you  will  maintain  me  in  your  good 
opinion,  without  prejudice,  until  my  cause  be  heard. 

Secondly,  that  in  regard  I  have  sequestered  my 
mind  at  this  time  in  great  part  from  worldly 
matters,  thinking  of  my  account  and  answers  in  a 
higher  court,  your  lordships  will  give  me  conve 
nient  time,  according  to  the  course  of  other  courts, 
to  advise  with  my  counsel  and  to  make  my  answer ; 
wherein,  nevertheless,  my  counsel's  part  will  be 
the  least;  for  I  shall  not,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
trick  upaninnoccncy  withcavillations,  but  plainly 
and  ingenuously  (as  your  lordships  know  my  man 
ner  is)  declare  what  I  know  or  remember. 

Thirdly,  that,  according  to  the  course  of  jus 
tice,  I  may  be  allowed  to  except  to  the  witnesses 
brought  against  me;  and  to  move  questions  to 
your  lordships  for  their  cross-examinations ;  and 
likewise  to  produce  my  own  witnesses  for  the 
discovery  of  the  truth. 

And  lastly,  that  if  there  be  anymore  petitions  of 
like  nature,  that  your  lordships  would  be  pleased 
not  to  take  any  prejudice  or  apprehension  of  any 
number  or  muster  of  them,  especially  against  a 
judge,  that  makes  two  thousand  orders  and  decrees 
in  a  year,  (not  to  speak  of  the  courses  that  have 
been  taken  for  hunting  out  complaints  against  me,) 
but  that  I  may  answer  them  according  to  the  rules 
of  justice,  severally  and  respectively. 

These  requests  I  hope  appear  to  your  lordships 
no  other  than  just.  And  so  thinking  myself 
happy  to  have  so  noble  peers  and  reverend  prelates 
to  discern  of  my  cause  ;  and  desiring  no  privilege 
of  greatness  for  subterfuge  of  guiltiness,  but  mean 
ing,  as  I  said,  to  deal  fairly  and  plainly  with  your 
lordships,  and  to  put  myself  upon  your  honours 
and  favours,  I  pray  God  to  bless  your  counsels 
and  persons.  And  rest  your  lordships'  humble 
servant,  FR.  ST.  ALB  AN,  Cane. 

March  10,  1620. 

This  letter,  which  was  delivered  by  Bucking 
ham,  the  Lords  immediately  answered,  by  assur 
ing  the  chancellor  "  that  the  proceedings  should 
be  according  to  the  right  rule  of  justice;  that  it 
was  the  wish  of  the  House  that  his  lordship  should 
clear  his  honour  from  the  different  aspersions,  and 
praying  him  to  provide  for  his  defence ;"  a  courtesy 


which  his  lordship  instantly  acknowledged,  with 
the  expression  of  his  intention  to  speak  more  fully 
at  a  future  time. 

Thus  resolved  to  defend  himself,  there  was 
some  communication  between  the  chancellor  and 
Buckingham;  whether  it  was  confined  to  the 
favourite  must  be  left  to  conjecture ;  but  it  appears 
to  have  had  its  full  effect  both  upon  him  and  upon 
the  king,  who,  seeing  the  untoward  events  which 
might  yet  occur  from  the  discussions  of  this 
inquiring  parliament,  sent  a  message  to  the  Com 
mons,  expressing  his  comfort  that  the  House  \vas 
careful  to  preserve  his  honour ;  his  wish  that  the 
parliament  should  adjourn  to  the  10th  of  April ; 
and  his  assurance  that  the  complaints  against 
the  lord  chancellor  should  be  carefully  examined 
before  a  committee  of  six  peers  and  twelve  com 
moners;  a  proposal  not  very  acceptable  to  Sir 
Edward  Coke,  who  thought  it  might  defeat  the 
parliamentary  proceedings  which  he  was  so  anx 
ious  to  prosecute. 

On  the  20th,  the  Commons  proceeded  to  the 
examination  of  witnesses,  and  a  further  complaint 
was  preferred  in  the  cause  of  \Vharton  and  Wil- 
loughby,  by  the  Lady  Wharton,  against  whom  the 
chancellor  had  decided.  It  appeared  that  the 
presents  were  made  openly  at  two  several  times, 
with  the  knowledge  and  in  the  presence  of  wit 
nesses. 

The  cry  having  been  raised,  the  lowest  mem 
bers  of  the  profession,  a  common  informer  and  a 
disgraced  registrar  were,  \vith  their  crew,  em 
ployed  in  hunting  for  charges  ;  and,  so  ready  was 
the  community  to  listen  to  complaints,  that  it  mat 
tered  not  by  whom  they  were  preferred  ;  "  great 
ness  was  the  mark,  and  accusation  the  game." 
One  of  his  many  faithful  friends,  Sir  Thomas 
Meautys,  rose  to  resist  this  virulence.  He  ad 
monished  the  House  of  the  misstatements  that 
would  be  made  by  such  accusers,  men  without 
character,  under  the  influence  of  motives  which 
could  not  be  misunderstood.  "  I  have  known," 
he  said,  "and  observed  his  lordship  for  somo 
years  :  he  hath  sown  a  good  seed  of  justice  ;  let  not 
the  abandoned  and  envious  choke  it  with  their 
tares."  He  had  as  much  prospect  of  success  as  if 
he  had  attempted  to  stop  the  progress  of  a  volcano. 

Additional  charges,  thus  collected,  and  of  the 
same  nature,  were  preferred  against  him. 

On  the  26th  of  March,  in  conformity  with  the 
advice  given  by  Williams,  sentence  was  passed 
upon  Mompesson  and  Michell,  many  patents 
were  recalled,  and  the  king,  after  having  address 
ed  the  House,  adjourned  the  parliament. 

The  king's  speech  abounded  with  that  adroit 
flattery  to  the  House,  which  he  so  frequently 
practised  when  he  had  any  thing  to  gain  or  any 
thing  to  fear;  he  did  not  name  the  chancellor 
directly,  and,  when  he  glanced  at  the  charge  of 
bribery,  while  he  cautioned  them  not  to  be  car 
ried  away  "by  the  impertinent  discourses  of  those 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Ixxxix 


who  named  the  innocent  as  well  as  the  guilty;" 
he  contrived  to  praise  Buckingham,  and  to  turn 
the  charge  itself  into  a  dexterous  commendation 
both  of  his  favourite  and  the  prince. 

The  parliament  was  then  adjourned  to  the  17th 
of  April,  with  the  hope  that,  during  the  recess, 
the  favourite  or  his  master  might  contrive  some 
expedient  to  delay  or  defeat  investigation;  and 
that  time  might  mitigate  the  displeasure  which, 
in  both  Houses,  seemed  strong  against  the  chan 
cellor. 

The  proceedings  within  the  House  were  sus 
pended,  but  the  chancellor's  opponents,  unchecked 
or  secretly  encouraged  by  his  pretended  friends, 
continued  their  exertions,  actuated  either  by  vir 
tuous  indignation  at  the  supposition  of  his  guilt, 
or  by  motives  less  pure, — the  hope  of  gaining  by 
his  fall,  cr  envy  of  the  greatness  which  over 
shadowed  them. 

The  state  of  the  chancellor's  mind  during  this 
storm  has  been  variously  represented ;  by  some 
of  his  contemporaries  he  is  said  to  have  been  de 
pressed  :  by  others  that  he  was  merry,  and  not 
doubting  that  he  should  be  able  to  ride  safely 
through  the  tempest.  His  playfulness  of  spirit 
never  forsook  him.  When,  upon  the  charge  be 
ing  first  made,  his  servants  rose  as  he  passed 
through  the  hall, "  Sit  down,  my  friends,"  he  said, 
"your  rise  has  been  my  fall ;"  and  when  one  of 
his  friends  said,  "You  must  look  around  you," 
he  replied,  "I  look  above  me."  Playfulness  in 
affliction  is,  however,  only  an  equivocal  test 
of  cheerfulness ;  in  a  powerful  mind  grief  rests 
itself  in  the  exercise  of  the  antagonist  feelings, 
and,  by  a  convulsive  effort,  throwrs  oif  the  load 
of  despair. 

Difficult  as  it  may  be  to  discover  the  real  state 
of  his  mind,  it  cannot  be  supposed,  accustomed 
as  he  was  to  active  life,  and  well  aware  of  the 
intrigues  of  courts,  that,  in  this  moment  of 
peril,  his  sagacity  slumbered,  or  that  he  was  so 
little  attentive  to  his  own  interests,  as  to  be  shel 
tered  in  the  shades  of  Gorhambury,  all  meaner 
things  forgotten,  watching  the  progress  of  some 
chymical  experiment,  or  wandering  with  Hobbes 
in  the  mazes  of  metaphysics. 

His  enemies,  who  were  compassing  his  ruin, 
might  imagine  that  he  was  thus  indulging  in  the 
day-dreams  of  philosophy,  but,  so  imagining, 
they  \vere  ignorant  of  his  favourite  doctrine,  that 
"  Learning  is  not  like  some  small  bird,  as  the 
lark,  that  can  mount  and  sing,  and  please  herself, 
and  nothing  else,  but  that  she  holds  as  well  of  the 
hawk,  that  can  soar  aloft,  and  at  the  right  mo 
ment  can  stoop  and  seize  upon  her  prey."  The 
chancellor  retired  to  prepare  for  his  defence,  to 
view  the  nature  of  the  attack,  and  the  strength  of 
his  assailants. 

The  charges,  which  were  at  first  confined  to 
Aubrey  and  Egerton,  were  now  accumulated 
to  twenty-three  in  number,  by  raking  up  every 

VOL.  I.— (12) 


instance  of  an  offering,  even  to  the  case  of 
Wraynham,  wrho  had  been  punished  for  his 
scurrilous  libel  against  the  chancellor  and  the 
master  of  the  rolls. 

Of  this  virulence  the  chancellor  thus  complain 
ed  to  Buckingham:  "Your  lordship  spoke  of 
purgatory.  I  am  now  in  it;  but  my  mind  is  in  a 
calm ;  for  my  fortune  is  not  my  felicity.  1  know 
I  have  clean  hands  and  a  clean  heart,  and  I  hope 
a  clean  house  for  friends  or  servants.  But  Job 
himself,  or  whosoever  was  the  justest  judge,  by 
such  hunting  for  matters  against  him,  as  hath 
been  used  against  me,  may  for  a  time  seem  foul, 
especially  in  a  time  when  greatness  is  the  mark, 
and  accusation  is  the  game.  And  if  this  be  to  be  a 
chancellor,  I  think  if  the  great  seal  lay  upon  Houn- 
slow  Heath,  nobody  would  take  it  up.  But  the 
king  and  your  lordship  will  I  hope  put  an  end  to 
these  my  straits,  one  \vay  or  other."  And  in  a 
subsequent  letter  he  said,  "I  perceive,  by  some 
speech  that  passed  between  your  lordship  and 
Mr.  Meautys,  that  some  wretched  detractor  hath 
told  you,  that  it  were  strange  I  should  be  in  debt; 
for  that  I  could  not  but  have  received  a  hun 
dred  thousand  pounds  gifts  since  I  had  the  seal, 
which  is  an  abominable  falsehood.  Such  tales 
as  these  made  St.  James  say  that  the  tongue  is  a 
fire,  and  itself  fired  from  hell,  whither  when  these 
tongues  shall  return,  they  will  beg  a  drop  of 
water  to  cool  them.  I  praise  God  for  it,  I  never 
took  penny  for  any  benefice  or  ecclesiastical 
living;  I  never  took  penny  for  releasing  any 
thing  I  stopped  at  the  seal ;  I  never  took  penny 
for  any  commission,  or  things  of  that  nature:  I 
never  shared  with  any  servant  for  any  second  or 
inferior  profit." 

About  the  same  period  he  thus  wrote  to  the 
kin"1,  in  a  letter  which  he  intrusted  to  the  discre 
tion  of  Buckingham  to  withhold  or  deliver: 

It  may  please  your  most  excellent  majesty, — 
Time  hath  been  when  I  have  brought  unto  you 
"  Gemitum  Columbae"  from  others,  now  I  bring 
it  from  myself.  I  fly  unto  your  majesty  with  the 
wings  of  a  dove,  which,  once  within  these  seven 
days,  I  thought  would  have  carried  me  a  higher 
flight.  When  I  enter  into  myself,  I  find  not  the 
materials  of  such  a  tempest  as  is  come  upon  me. 
I  have  been  (as  your  majesty  knoweth  best)  never 
j  author  of  any  immoderate  counsel,  but  always  de 
sired  to  have  things  carried  "  suavibus  modis."  I 
have  been  no  avaricious  oppressor  of  the  people. 
I  have  been  no  haughty,  or  intolerable,  or  hateful 
man  in  my  conversation  or  carriage :  I  have  in 
herited  no  hatred  from  my  father,  but  am  a  good 
patriot  born.  Whence  should  this  be;  for  these? 
are  the  things  that  use  to  raise  dislikes  abroad. 

For  the  House  of  Commons,  I  began  my  credit 
there,  and  now  it  must  be  the  place  of  the  sepul 
ture  thereof.  And  yet  this  parliament,  upon  the 
message  touchino-  religion,  the  old  love  revived, 
~ 


xc 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


and  they  said,  I  was  the  same  man  still,  only 
honesty  was  turned  to  honour. 

For  the  Upper  House,  even  within  these  days 
before  these  troubles,  they  seemed  as  to  take  rm 
into  their  arms,  finding-  in  me  ingenuity,  whicl 
they  took  to  be  the  true,  straight  line  of  noble 
ness,  without  crooks  or  angles. 

And  for  the  briberies  and  gifts  wherewith  I  am 
charged,  when  the  book  of  hearts  shall  be  open 
ed,  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  found  to  have  the  trou 
bled  fountain  of  a  corrupt  heart,  in  a  depraved 
habit  of  taking  rewards  to  pervert  justice;  how 
soever  I  may  be  frail,  and  partake  of  the  abuses 
of  the  times. 

And  therefore  I  am  resolved,  when  I  come  to 
my  answer,  not  to  trick  my  innocency  (as  I  wri 
to  the  lords)  by  cavillations  or  voidances,  but  to 
speak  to  them  the  language  that  my  heart  speak- 
eth  to  me,  in  excusing,  extenuating,  or  ingenuous 
confessing;  praying  God  to.  give  me  the  grace  to 
see  to  the  bottom  of  my  faults,  and  that  no  hardness 
of  heart  do  steal  upon  me,  under  show  of  more 
neatness  of  conscience,  than  is  cause. 

But  not  to  trouble  your  majesty  any  longer, 
craving  pardon  for  this  long  mourning  letter,  that 
which  I  thirst  after,  as  the  hart  after  the  streams, 
is,  that  I  may  know  by  my  matchless  friend  that 
presenteth  to  you  this  letter,  your  majesty's  heart 
(which  is  an  abyssus  of  goodness,  as  I  am  an 
abyssus  of  misery)  towards  rne.  I  have  been 
ever  your  man,  and  counted  myself  but  a  usu 
fructuary  of  myself,  the  property  being  yours. 
And  now  making  myself  an  oblation,  to  do  with 
me  as  may  best  conduce  to  the  honour  of  your 
justice,  the  honour  of  your  mercy,  and  the  use 
of  your  service,  resting  as  clay  in  your  majesty's 
gracious  hands,  FR.  ST.  ALBAN,  Cane. 

March  25,  1G20. 

To  the  preparation  of  his  defence  he  now  pro 
ceeded — a  preparation  which  could  scarcely  to 
any  advocate  have  been  attended  with  difficulty, 
whether  considering  the  general  nature  of  the 
complaints,  or  the  weight  due  to  each  particular 
charge. 

There  are  circumstances  attending  these  accu 
sations,  by  which  at  this  time  the  judgment  may 
be  warped,  that  did  not  exist  two  centuries  since. 
We  may  be  misled  by  transferring  the  opinions 
of  the  present  to  past  times,  and  by  supposing 
that  the  accusations  were  preferred  by  some  or  all 
of  thes  uitors  whose  names  are  mentioned,  and  on 
whose  behalf  the  presents  were  offered  after  the 
termination  of  their  causes ;  but  it  was  then  well 
known,  that  these  suitors  reluctantly  attended,  in 
<  ibedience  to  the  summons  obtained  in  consequence 
of  the  petitions  presented  by  the  two  discontented 
persons  against  whom  the  chancellor  had  decided, 
notwithstanding  their  supposition  that  his  judg 
ment  was  to  be  purchased. 

It  could  not  have  escaped  the  notice  of  any  ad 


vocate  that  the  presents  were  made  on  behalf  of 
the  suitors,  by  men  of  character,  counsellors,  and 
members  of  parliament,  Sir  George  Hastings, 
Sir  Richard  Young,  Sir  Henry  Holmes,  Mr. 
Jenkins,  Mr.  Thelwall,  Mr.  Toby  Matthew,  and 
Sir  Thomas  Perrott;  and  that  they  were  made 
openly,  with  the  greatest  publicity,  both  from  the 
nature  of  the  presents  themselves,  and  from  the 
manner  in  which  they  were  presented  ;  so  openly, 
that  even  Sir  Edward  Coke  admitted  the  fact, 
that  they  were  delivered  in  the  presence  of  wit 
nesses;  and  the  chancellor,  in  answer  to  the  21st 
charge,  that,  "upon  a  dispute  between  three 
public  companies  of  the  apothecaries  and  grocers, 
he  had  received  presents  from  each  of  the  com 
panies,"  instantly  said.  "Could  I  have  taken 
these  presents  in  the  nature  of  a  bribe,  when  I 
knew  it  could  not  be  concealed,  because  it  must 
needs  be  put  to  the  account  of  the  three  several 
companies,  each  of  whom  was  jealous  of  the 
other]" 

Who  can  suppose  that,  if  secrecy  had  been  the 
object,  presents  of  articles  constantly  in  sight 
would  have  been  selected ;  gold  buttons,  tasters 
of  gold,  ambergrease,  cabinets,  and  suits  of  hang 
ings  for  furniture  ;  they  were  made,  as  was  no 
torious,  according  to  the  established  custom,  in 
this,  and  in  all  countries,  a  custom  which,  as  the 
Chancellor  1'Hopital  endeavoured  to  abolish  in 
France,  the  Chancellor  Bacon  would  most  gladly 
have  abolished  in  England,  and  demanded  from 
the  country  a  proper  remuneration  for  the  arduous 
labours  of  his  high  office. 

No  man  felt  more  deeply  the  evils  which  then 
existed,  of  the  interference  by  the  crown  and  by 
statesmen  to  influence  judges.  How  beautifully 
did  he  admonish  Buckingham,  regardless  as  he 
proved  of  all  admonition,  "By  no  means  be  you 
persuaded  to  interpose  yourself,  either  by  word  or 
letter,  in  any  cause  depending,  cr  like  to  be  de 
pending,  in  any  court  of  justice,  nor  suffer  any 
other  great  man  to  do  it  where  you  can  hinder  it; 
and  by  all  means  dissuade  the  king  himself  from 
t,  upon  the  importunity  of  any  for  themselves  or 
their  friends.  If  it  should  prevail,  it  perverts 
ustice;  but  if  the  judge  be  so  just  and  of  such 
courage,  as  he  ought  to  be,  as  not  to  be  inclined 
thereby,  yet  it  always  leaves  a  taint  of  suspicion 
Behind  it;  judges  must  be  chaste  as  Cresar's  wife, 
neither  to  be,  nor  to  be  suspected  to  be  unjust: 
and,  sir,  the  honour  of  the  judges  in  their  judica- 
ure  is  the  king's  honour,  whose  person  they 
represent." 

Thus  did  he  raise  his  voice  in  opposition  to  an 
nveterate  practice.  The  first  mode  of  correcting 
error,  whether  in  individuals  or  in  the  community, 
s  by  proclaiming  its  existence ;  the  next  is,  when 
ipe  for  action,  by  acting. 

That  the  presents  influenced  the  judgment  of 
he  chancellor  was  never  for  a  moment  supposed 
»y  any  man.  Fourteen  out  of  the  twenty-two 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xci 


charges  related  to  presents  made  long  after  the 
causes  were  terminated,  and  the  complaints  of  his 
accusers  were,  not  that  the  gratuities  had,  but  that 
they  had  not  influenced  his  judgment,  as  he  had 
decided  against  them. 

Such  topics  would  have  occurred  to  any  advo 
cate.  With  what  force  would  they  have  been 
urged  by  the  chancellor?  In  his  Novum  Or- 
ganuin,  which  he  had  published  in  the  previous 
year,  he  had  warned  society,  that  "  at  the  entrance 
of  every  inquiry  our  first  duty  is  to  eradicate  any 
idol  by  which  the  judgment  may  be  warped;  as 
the  kingdom  of  man  can  be  entered  only  as  the 
kingdom  of  God,  in  the  simplicity  of  little  child 
ren."  How  powerfully,  then,  would  he  have 
called  upon  the  lovers  of  truth  and  of  justice  to 
divest  their  minds  of  all  prejudice;  to  be,  when 
sitting  in  judgment  upon  a  judge,  themselves 
impartial.  Knowing  the  nature  of  the  high  tribu 
nal  before  whom  he  was  to  appear,  there  could, 
inueed,  have  been  scarcely  any  necessity  for  such 
an  appeal.  He  knew  the  joy  which  they  "  would 
feel,  if  he  could  clear  his  honour."  He  knew 
that,  however  grateful  it  may  be  to  common 
minds  to  indulge  in  the  vulgar  pleasure  of  imagi 
nary  self-importance  from  the  depression  of  supe-  j 
riority,  a  disinclination  to  condemn,  even  if  truth 
call  for  conviction,  is  an  attribute  of  every 
noble  mind,  always  afflicted  at  the  infirmities  of 
genius.  Knowing  that,  amongst  the  peers,  many 
valued  themselves  upon  ancient  learning,  he 
would  have  reminded  them,  that  "  the  tree 
scathed  with  lightning,  was  with  them  of  the 
olden  time  ever  held  sacred.  Sure  no  tree  of  the 
forest,  under  Jove's  favour,  ever  flourished  more 
than  myself;  witness  for  me  all  those  who, 
while  the  dews  of  heaven  rested  on  me,  were  re 
joiced  to  shelter  under  my  branches  :  and  I  the 
more  readily,  my  lords,  remind  you  of  an  ensam- 
ple  of  heathen  piety,  because  I  would  not  in  the 
presence  of  some  of  you  speak  of  Christian  cha 
rity,  which,  if  it  were  not  recorded  by  one  who 
cannot  lie,  I  have  found  so  cold  that  I  might  sup 
pose  it  to  be  only  painted  forth  in  books,  but,  in 
deed,  without  life,  or  heat,  or  motion." 

He  could  not  have  thought  it  necessary  to  warn 
the  lords,  as  he  had  apprized  the  king,  that 
"  when  from  private  appetite  it  is  resolved  that  a 
creature  shall  be  sacrificed,  it  is  easy  to  pick  up 
sticks  enough  from  any  thicket  whither  it  hath 
strayed,  to  make  a  fire  to  offer  it  with  ;"  nor  to  have 
said  to  the  lords,  as  he  had  said  to  the  king, 
"For  the  briberies  and  gifts  wherewith  I  am 
charged,  when  the  book  of  hearts  shall  be  opened, 
I  hope  I  shall  not  be  found  to  have  the  troubled 
fountain  of  a  corrupt  heart,  in  a  depraved  habit 
of  taking  rewards  to  pervert  justice  :  howsoever  I 
may  be  frail,  and  partake  of  the  abuses  of  the 
times."  For  such  appeals  there  would  not,  be 
fore  such  a  tribunal,  have  been  any  necessity. 

Passing  from  these  general  observations,  how 


easy  would  it  have  been  to  have  examined  each 
particular  charge,  by  separating  the  bundle,  and 
breaking  it  stick  by  stick  1 

In  the  case  of  Holman  and  Young,  it  was  al 
leged  that  £1000  had  been  given  to  the  chancel 
lor  by  Young.  Upon  investigation  it  appeared, 
on  this  charge  of  a  discontented  suitor,  that  instead 
of  £1000  having  been  advanced,  the  sum  was 
£100,  which  was  presented  on  behalf  of  Young 
after  the  decree,  either  by  Young  or  Mr.  Toby 
Matthew,  a  son  of  the  Archbishop  of  York, 
through  life  an  intimate  friend  and  correspondent 
of  the  chancellor's,  and  in  1623  knighted  by  King 
James. 

In  the  cause  of  Worth  and  Mainwaring,  it  was 
alleged  that  the  chancellor  had  been  bribed  by 
£100.  Upon  examination  it  appeared,  that  some 
months  after  the  decree,  which  was  for  a  great 
inheritance,  the  successful  party  presented  £100 
to  the  chancellor. 

In  the  case  of  Hody  and  Hody,  the  charge 
was,  that  £100  or  £200  was  presented  to  the 
chancellor.  The  fact  was,  that  some  time  after 
the  suit  was  terminated,  Sir  Thomas  Perrot  and 
Sir  Henry  Holmes  presented  the  chancellor  with 
some  gold  buttons,  worth  forty  guineas. 

In  the  case  between  Reynell  and  Peacock,  the 
charge  was,  that  there  was  much  money  given  on 
both  sides,  and  a  diamond  ring.  The  facts 
turned  out  to  be  that  presents  were  given  on  both 
sides ;  that  Sir  George  Reynell  was  a  near  ally 
of  the  chancellor's,  and  presented  a  gratuity  as  a 
new  year's  gift  for  former  favours,  when  the 
great  seal  was  first  delivered  to  the  lord  keeper, 
and  when  presents  were,  as  of  course,  presentee) 
by  various  persons  ;  and  that,  by  the  intervention 
of  a  friend  and  neighbour  at  St.  Alban's,  he  bor 
rowed  a  sum  of  Peacock. 

In  the  cause  of  Barker  and  Hill,  the  charge 
was,  that  the  chancellor  had  been  bribed  by  a 
present  made  by  Barker.  The  fact  was,  that  the 
sum  was  presented  some  time  after  the  decree 
had  been  made. 

In  the  case  of  Smithwick  and  Wyche,  the 
charge  was,  that  Smithwick  had  presented  £600 
to  the  chancellor,  but  he  had  decided  against 
him,  and  the  money  was  repaid.  The  fact  was, 
that  Smithwick  had  paid  £200  to  Hunt,  one  of 
the  chancellor's  servants,  unknown  to  the  chan 
cellor  ;  that  the  decision  was  against  Smithwick, 
and  that  the  chancellor,  when  he  saw  an  entry  of 
the  sum  in  his  servant's  account,  had  defalced  it, 
and  ordered  it  to  be  returned. 

He  might,  in  the  same  manner,  have  decom 
posed  all  the  charges.  He  might  have  selected 
the  fourteen  cases  in  which  the  presents  were 
made  after,  and  many  of  them  long  after  judgment 
had  been  pronounced.  He  might  have  taken 
each  particular  case  where  the  presents  were  be 
fore  judgment,  and  the  decrees  against  the  donors 
He  might  have  explained  that,  in  some  of  tb» 


XC11 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


eases,  he  acted  only  as  arbitrator ;  and  in  others 
that  the  sums  received  were  not  gifts,  but  loans, 
and  that  he  had  decided  against  his  creditor ;  and 
in  others  that  the  sums  offered  were  refused  and 
returned.  And  to  the  twenty-eighth  charge, 
"  that  the  lord  chancellor  hath  given  way  to  great 
exactions  by  his  servants,"  he  surely  might  have 
admitted  that  he  was  negligent  in  not  looking 
better  to  his  servants.  Standing  on  a  cliff,  and 
surveying  the  whole  intellectual  world,  he  did 
not  see  every  pebble  on  the  shore. 

Some  defence  of  this  nature  could  not  but  have 
occurred  to  the  chancellor] 

Whatever  doubt  may  exist  as  to  the  state  of  his 
mind,  there  is  none  with  respect  either  to  the  king 
or  Buckingham.  The  king  was  disquieted,  and 
Buckingham  robbed  of  all  peace.  This  was  the 
very  state  of  mental  fusion  favourable  for  experi 
ment  by  a  shrewd  politician.  "  It  is  the  doctrine 
of  philosophy  that  to  be  speculative  into  another 
man,  to  the  end  to  know  how  to  work  him,  or 
wind  him,  or  govern  him,  proceedeth  from  a  heart 
that  is  double  and  cloven,  and  not  entire  and  in 
genuous."  This  is  not  the  politician's  creed. 

The  king's  fears,  notwithstanding  his  pecuniary 
distresses,  disposed  him  to  dissolve  the  parlia 
ment,  to  which  he  had  been  advised,  though  by 
this  measure  he  should  lose  his  two  subsidies. 
Williams  dissuaded  him  from  such  an  expedient. 
11  There  is,"  he  said,  "no  colour  to  quarrel  at  this 
general  assembly  of  the  kingdom,  for  tracing  delin 
quents  to  their  form  :  it  is  their  proper  work,  and 
your  majesty  hath  nobly  encouraged  them  to  it. 
Your  lordship,"  he  said,  turning  to  Buckingham, 
"is  jealous,  if  the  parliament  continue  imbodied, 
of  your  own  safety.  Follow  it,  swim  with  the 
tide  :  trust  me  and  your  other  servants  that  have 
some  credit  with  the  most  active  members,  to 
keep  you  clear  from  the  strife  of  tongues  ;  but  if 
you  breakup  this  parliament,  in  pursuit  of  justice, 
only  to  save  some  cormorants  who  have  devoured 
that  which  they  must  disgorge,  you  will  pluck  up 
a  sluice  which  will  overwhelm  you  all." 

The  king  listened  to  the  advice  of  Williams  ; 
and  his  determination  not  to  dissolve  the  parlia 
ment  was  followed,  of  course,  by  the  consideration 
how  the  charges  were  to  be  met,  by  resistance  or 
by  submission. 

There  cannot  be  any  difficulty  in  following  the 
train  of  Williams's  reasoning  in  this  conclave. 
"Resistance  will  be  attended  with  danger  to 
your  lordship  and  to  his  majesty.  These  popular 
outcries  thrive  by  opposition,  and  when  they 
cease  to  be  opposed,  they  cease  to  exist.  The 
chancellor  has  been  accused.  He  cannot  escape 
unheard.  He  must  be  acquitted  or  convicted. 
He  cannot,  in  this  time  of  excitement  and  pre- 
j augment,  expect  justice.  His  mind  will  easily 
be  impressed  by  the  fate  of  other  great  men,  sa 
crifices  to  the  blind  ignorance  of  a  vulgar  popu 
lace,  whom  talent  will  not  propitiate  or  innocence  j 


appease.  Can  it  be  doubted,  that  the  prudent 
course  will  be  the  chancellor's  submission,  as  an 
atonement  for  all  who  are  under  popular  suspicion  1 
The  only  difficulty  will  be  to  prevail  upon  him  to 
submit.  He  has  resolved  to  defend  himself,  and 
in  speech  he  is  all-powerful  ;  but  he  is  of  a 
yielding  nature,  a  lover  of  letters,  in  mind  con 
templative,  although  in  life  active  ;  his  love  of 
retirement  may  be  wrought  upon  ;  the  king  can 
remit  any  fine,  and,  the  means  once  secured  to 
him  of  learned  leisure  for  the  few  remaining  years 
of  his  life,  he  will  easily  be  induced  to  quit  the 
paradise  of  earthly  honours." 

So  spoke  the  prelate;  and  the  voice  that  pro 
mised  present  immunity  to  the  king  and  his  hum 
bled  favourite,  seemed  to  them  the  voice  of  an 
angel :  but  the  remedies  of  a  state  empiric,  like 
those  of  all  empirics,  are  only  immediate  relief; 
"  they  help  at  a  pang,  but  soon  leese  their  opera 
tion." 

The  king  fatally  resolved  upon  this  concession, 
and  Bacon's  remarkable  prediction  fell  upon  him 
and  his  successor,  "  They  who  will  strike  at 
your  chancellor  will  strike  at  your  crown." 

There  was  not  any  suggestion  by  Williams  that 
the  chancellor  could  not  have  anticipated,  except 
the  monstrous  fact  that  the  kingand  Bucking-ham 
were  consenting  to  his  downfall.  Once  convinced 
that  his  weak  and  cowardly  master  was  not  only 
willing  but  anxious  to  interpose  him  between  an 
enraged  people  and  his  culpable  favourite,  his 
line  of  conduct  became  evident :  he  was  as  much 
bound  to  the  stake  as  if  already  chained  there; 
and,  when  the  fate  of  Essex  and  of  Somerset  re 
curred  to  him,  he  must  have  felt  how  little  de 
pendence  could  be  placed  upon  court  favour,  and 
how  certain  was  the  utter  ruin  of  a  man  who 
attempts  to  oppose  a  despotic  prince.  He 
might  well  say,  "he  was  become  clay  in  the 
king's  hand."  He  who  is  robbed  of  all  that  con 
stitutes  a  man,  freedom  of  thought  and  action, 
which  is  the  breath  of  his  nostrils,  becomes  no 
thing  but  a  lifeless  statue. 

Before  the  16th  of  April  the  king  sent  for  the 
chancellor,  who  instantly  prepared  minutes  for 
their  conference,  in  which  he  says,  "The  law  of 
nature  teaches  me  to  speak  in  my  own  defence. 
With  respect  to  this  charge  of  bribery,  I  am  as 
innocent  as  any  born  upon  St.  Innocent's  day :  I 
never  had  bribe  or  reward  in  my  eye  or  thought 
when  pronouncing  sentence  or  order.  If,  how 
ever,  it  is  absolutely  necessary,  the  king's  will 
shall  be  obeyed.  I  am  ready  to  make  an  obla 
tion  of  myself  to  the  king,  in  whose  hands  I  am 
as  clay,  to  be  made  a  vessel  of  honour  or  disho 
nour." 

That  an  interview  between  the  king  and  Bacon 
took  place  is  clear,*  from  the  following  entry  in 
the  journals  of  the  House  of  Lords  of  April  17  ; 

"  The  lord  treasurer  signified,  that  in  the  in 
terim  of  this  cessation,  the  lord  chancellor  was  an 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xcm 


humble  suitor  unto  his  majesty,  that  he  might  see 
his  majesty  and  speak  with  him;  and  although 
his  majesty,  in  respect  of  the  lord  chancellor' 
person,  and  of  the  place  he  holds,  might  have 
given  his  lordship  that  favour,  yet,  for  that  his 
lordship  is  under  the  trial  of  this  house,  his 
majesty  would  not  on  the  sudden  grant  it. 

"That  on  Sunday  last,  the  king  calling  all  the 
lords  of  this  house  which  were  of  his  council  be 
fore  him,  it  pleased  his  majesty  to  show  their  lord 
ships  what  was  desired  by  the  lord  chancellor, 
demanding  their  lordships'  advice  therein. 

"The  lords  did  not  presume  to  advise  his 
majesty  ;  for  that  his  majesty  did  suddenly  pro 
pound  such  a  course  as  all  the  world  could  not 
advise  a  better ;  whicli  was.  that  his  majesty 
would  speak  with  him  privately. 

"  That  yesterday,  his  majesty  admitting  the 
lord  chancellor  to  his  presence,  his  lordship  de 
sired  that  he  might  have  a  particular  of  those  mat 
ters  wherewith  he  is  charged  before  the  lords  of 
this  house;  for  that  it  was  not  possible  for  him, 
who  passed  so  many  orders  and  decrees  in  a  year, 
to  remember  all  things  that  fell  out  in  them ; 
and  that,  this  being  granted,  his  lordship  would 
desire  two  requests  of  his  majesty.  1.  That, 
where  his  answers  should  be  fair  and  clear, 
to  those  things  objected  against  him,  his  lordship 
might  stand  upon  his  innocency.  2.  Where  his 
answer  should  not  be  so  fair  and  clear,  there  his 
lordship  might  be  admitted  to  the  extenuation  of 
the  charge ;  and  where  the  proofs  were  full  and  un 
deniable,  his  lordship  would  ingenuously  confess 
them,  and  put  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  the 
lords. 

"  Unto  all  which  his  majesty's  answer  was,  he 
referred  him  to  the  lords  of  this  house,  and  there 
fore  his  majesty  willed  his  lordship  to  make  re 
port  to  their  lordships. 

"  It  was  thereupon  ordered,  that  the  lord  trea 
surer  should  signify  unto  his  majesty,  that  the 
lords  do  thankfully  acknowledge  his  majesty's 
favour,  and  hold  themselves  highly  bound  unto 
his  majesty  for  the  same." 

At  this  interview  the  king,  who  had  determined 
to  sacrifice  the  "  oracle  of  his  counsel  rather  than 
the  favourite  of  his  affection,"  gave  him  his  advice, 
as  it  was  termed,  "that  he  should  submit  himself 
to  the  House  of  Peers,  and  that  upon  his  princely 
word  he  would  then  restore  him  again,  if  they  in 
their  honours  should  not  be  sensible  of  his 
merits." 

How  little  this  command  accorded  with  the 
chancellor's  intention  to  defend  himself,  may  be 
gathered  from  his  distress  and  passionate  remon 
strance.  "I  sec  my  approaching  ruin:  there  is 
no  hope  of  mercy  in  a  multitude,  if  I  do  not  plead 
for  myself,  when  my  enemies  are  to  give  fire. 
Those  who  strike  at  your  chancellor  will  strike  at 
your  crown."  All  remonstrance  proving  fruitless, 
he  took  leave  of  the  king  with  these  memorable 


words :  "  I  am'  the  first ;  I  wish  I  may  be  the  last 
sacrifice." 

The  parts  were  now  cast,  and  the  last  act  of  the 
drama  alone  remained  to  be  performed. 

On  the  17th  of  April,  1621,  the  House  met. 
when  some  account  of  the  king's  interview  with 
the  chancellor  was  narrated  by  the  lord  treasu 
rer,  and  ordered  to  be  entered  upon  the  journals 
of  the  House  ;  and,  a  rumour  having  been  circu 
lated  that  Buckingham  had  sent  his  brother 
abroad  to  escape  inquiry,  he  protested  unto  the 
lords,  "that  whereas  the  opinion  of  the  world  is, 
that  his  lordship  had  sent  his  brother,  Sir  Edward 
Villiers,  abroad  in  the  king's  service,  of  purpose 
to  avoid  his  trial  touching  some  grievances  com 
plained  of  by  the  Commons,  his  lordship  was  so 
far  from  that,  that  his  lordship  did  hasten  his 
cominghome  ;  and,  if  any  thing  blameworthy  can 
be  objected  against  him,  his  lordship  is  as  ready 
to  censure  him  as  he  was  Mompesson." 

It  was  then  moved  by  the  Earl  of  Arundel,  that 
the  three  several  committees  do  make  their  report 
to-rnorrow  morning  of  the  examinations  by  them 
taken  touching  the  lord  chancellor. 

On  the  20th,  the  chancellor  wrote  to  the  king, 
to  thank  him  for  the  goodness  manifested  in  his 
access  on  the  16th,  and  expressing  an  assured 
hope,  that,  as  the  king  imitated  Christ,  by  not 
breaking  the  broken  reed,  or  quenching  the  smok 
ing  flax,  so  would  the  lords  of  the  Upper  House  in 
grace  and  mercy  imitate  their  royal  master:  and 
on  the  22d  of  April  he  addressed  a  letter  to  the 
House  of  Lords,  which  had,  of  course,  been  sub 
mitted  to  Buckingham  and  the  king,  and  was  in 
due  time  communicated  to  their  lordships  by  the 
Prince  of  Wales. 

In  that  letter,  which  can  be  understood  only 
by  those  who  are  in  possession  of  the  facts  now 
stated,  he  consented  to  desert  his  defence;  and 
that  word,  used  by  a  man  so  rich  in  language,  so 
felicitous  in  every  shade  of  expression,  fully  dis 
closes  what  was  passing  in  his  mind.  He  praised 
the  king,  chiefly  for  his  mercy,  recommended 
him  as  an  example  to  the  lords,  and  reminded  the 
prelates  that  they  were  the  servants  of  Christ. 
He  concluded  his  address  by  intimating  what  he 
hoped  would  be  the  measure  of  his  punishment, 
but  not  till  he  had  related  some  passages,  from 
ancient  history,  in  his  usual  manner,  and  consi 
dered  the  case  and  its  results  to  society  with  a  de 
gree  of  philosophical  calmness,  which  could  not 
possibly  contemplate  the  ruin  that  ensued,  or  any 
punishment  beyond  the  loss  of  his  office. 

On  the  morning  of  the  24th,  the  ting  addressed 
the  house  in  a  speech,  which  showed  his  disposi- 
ion  to  meet  the  wishes  of  the  people  by  admit 
ting,  "that  as  many  complaints  are  already  made 
against  courts  of  judicature,  which  are  in  exami 
nation,  and  are  to  be  proceeded  upon  by  the  lords, 

majesty  will  add  some,  which  he  thinks  fit  to 

also  complained  of  and  redressed,  viz.:  That  no 


xciv 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


orders  be  made  but  in  public  court,  and  not  in  ; 
chambers ;  that  excessive  fees  be  taken  away ;  that 
no  bribery  nor  money  be  given  for  the  hearing  of 
any  cause.  These  and  many  other  things  his 
majesty  thought  fit  to  be  done  this  session.  And 
his  majesty  added,  that  when  he  hath  done  this, 
and  all  that  he  can  do  for  the  good  of  his  subjects, 
he  confesseth  he  hath  done  but  the  duty  whereunto 
he  was  born." — The  house  then  adjourned  till  the 
afternoon. 

In  the  afternoon  the  Prince  of  Wales  "  signi 
fied  unto  the  lords  that  the  lord  chancellor  had 
sent  the  following  submission  to  their  lordships  : 

"To  the  Right  Honourable  the  Lords  of 
Parliament,  in  the  Upper  House  assem 
bled. 

"  The  humble  Submission  and  Supplication  of 
the  Lord  Chancellor. 

"  It  may  please  your  lordships, — I  shall  hum 
bly  crave  at  your  lordships'  hands  a  benign  inter 
pretation  of  that  which  I  shall  now  write.  For 
xvords  that  come  from  wasted  spirits  and  an  op 
pressed  mind  are  more  safe  in  being  deposited  in 
a  noble  construction,  than  in  being  circled  witli 
any  reserved  caution. 

"This  being  moved,  and,  as  I  hope,  obtained, 
in  the  nature  of  a  protection  to  all  that  I  shall 
say,  I  shall  now  make  into  the  rest  of  that  where 
with  I  shall  at  this  time  trouble  your  lordships  a 
very  strange  entrance.  For,  in  the  midst  of  a 
state  of  as  great  affliction  as  I  think  a  mortal  man 
can  endure,  (honour  being  above  life,)  I  shall 
begin  with  the  professing  of  gladness  in  some 
things. 

"  The  first  is,  that  hereafter  the  greatness  of  a 
judge  or  magistrate  shall  be  no  sanctuary  or  pro 
tection  of  guiltiness,  which  (in  few  words)  is  the 
beginning  of  a  golden  world.  The  next,  that, 
after  this  example,  it  is  like  that  judges  will  lly 
from  any  thing  that  is  in  the  likeness  of  corrup 
tion,  (though  it  were  at  a  great  distance,)  as  from 
a  serpent ;  which  tendeth  to  the  purging  of  the 
courts  of  justice,  and  the  reducing  them  to  their 
true  honour  and  splendour.  And  in  these  two 
points,  God  is  my  witness,  that  though  it  be  my 
fortune  to  be  the  anvil  upon  which  these  good 
effects  are  beaten  and  wrought,  I  take  no  small 
comfort. 

"But,  to  pass  from  the  motions  of  my  heart, 
whereof  God  is  only  judge,  to  the  merits  of  my 
cause,  whereof  your  lordships  are  judges,  under 
God  and  his  lieutenant,  I  do  understand  there 
hath  been  heretofore  expected  from  me  some  jus 
tification  ;  and  therefore  I  have  chosen  one  only 
justification  instead  of  all  other,  out  of  the  justi 
fications  of  Job.  For,  after  the  clear  submission 
arid  confession  which  I  shall  now  make  unto  your 
lordships,  I  hope  I  may  say  and  justify  with  Job, 
in  these  words  :  '  I  have  not  hid  my  sins  as  did 


Adam,  nor  concealed  my  faults  in  my  bosom.' 
This  is  the  only  justification  which  I  will  use. 

"  It  resteth,  therefore,  that  without  fig-leaves  I 
do  ingenuously  confess  and  acknowledge  that, 
having  understood  the  particulars  of  the  charge, 
not  formally  from  the  House,  but  enough  to  in 
form  my  conscience  and  memory,  I  find  matter 
sufficient  and  full  both  to  move  me  to  desert  the 
defence,  and  to  move  your  lordships  to  condemn 
and  censure  me.  Neither  will  I  trouble  your 
lordships  by  singling  those  particulars,  which  I 
think  may  fall  off. 

Quid  le  exempta  juvat  spinis  de  pluribus  una'.1 

Neither  will  I  prompt  your  lordships  to  ob 
serve  upon  the  proofs,  where  they  come  not 
home,  or  the  scruples  touching  the  credits  of  the 
witnesses  ;  neither  will  I  represent  unto  your 
lordships  how  far  a  defence  might,  in  divers 
tilings,  extenuate  the  offence,  in  respect  of  the 
time  or  manner  of  the  gift,  or  the  like  circum 
stances,  but  only  leave  these  things  to  spring 
out  of  your  own  noble  thoughts  and  observa 
tions  of  the  evidence  and  examinations  them 
selves,  and  charitably  to  wind  about  the  particu 
lars  of  the  charge,  here  and  there,  as  God  shall 
put  into  your  mind,  and  so  submit  myself  wholly 
to  your  piety  and  grace. 

"And  now  that  I  have  spoken  to  your  lordships 
as  judges,  I  shall  say  a  few  words  to  you  as 
peers  and  prelates,  humbly  commending  my 
cause  to  your  noble  minds  and  magnanimous  af 
fections. 

"Your  lordships  are  not  simple  judges,  but 
parliamentary  judges;  you  have  a  further  ex 
tent  of  arbitrary  power  than  other  courts;  and. 
if  your  lordships  be  nottied  by  the  ordinary  course 
of  courts  or  precedents,  in  points  of  strictness 
and  severity,  much  more  in  points  of  mercy  arid 
mitigation. 

"  And  yet,  if  any  thing  which  I  shall  move 
might  be  contrary  to  your  honourable  and  worthy 
ends  to  introduce  a  reformation,  I  should  not  seek 
it.  But  herein  I  beseech  your  lordships  to  give 
me  leave  to  tell  you  a  story.  Titus  Manlius  took 
his  son's  life  for  giving  battle  against  the  prohi 
bition  of  his  general ;  not  many  years  after,  the 
like  severity  was  pursued  by  Papirius  Cursor,  the 
dictator,  against  Quintus  Maximus,  who  being 
upon  the  point  to  be  sentenced,  by  the  interces 
sion  of  some  principal  persons  of  the  senate,  was 
spared  ;  Whereupon  Livy  maketh  this  grave  and 
gracious  observation:  Ncque minus firmata  estdis- 
ciplina  militaris  peric'ilo  Quinti  Maximi,quam  mi- 
scrabili  supplido  TitiManlii.  The  discipline  of  war 
was  no  less  established  by  the  questioning  of  Quin 
tus  Maximus  than  by  the  punishment  of  Titus 
Manlius;  and  the  same  reason  is  of  the  reformation 
of  justice;  for  the  questioning  of  men  of  eminent 
place  hath  the  same  terror,  though  not  the  same 
rigour  with  the  punishment. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xcv 


"But  my  case  standeth  not  there.  For  my 
humble  desire  is,  that  his  majesty  would  take  the 
seal  into  his  hands,  which  is  a  great  downfall : 
and  may  serve,  I  hope,  in  itself,  for  an  expiation 
of  my  faults.  Therefore,  if  mercy  and  mitigation 
be  in  your  power,  and  do  no  ways  cross  your  ends, 
why  should  I  not  hope  of  your  lordships'  favour 
and  commiseration  I 

"Your  lord  ships  will  be  pleased  to  behold  your 
chief  pattern,  the  king,  our  sovereign,  a  king  of 
incomparable  clemency,  and  whose  heart  is  in- 
-  scrutable  for  wisdom  and  goodness.  Your  lord 
ships  will  remember  that  there  sat  not  these  hun 
dred  years  before  a  prince  in  your  house,  and 
never  such  a  prince  whoss  presence  deserveth  to 
be  made  memorable  by  records  and  acts  mixed  of 
mercy  and  justice ;  yourselves  are  either  nobles 
(and  compassion  ever  beateth  in  the  veins  of 
noble  blood)  or  reverend  prelates,  who  are  the 
servants  of  Him  that  would  not  break  the  bruised 
reed,  nor  quench  smoking  flax.  You  all  sit  upon 
one  high  stage;  and  therefore  cannot  but  be 
more  sensible  of  the  changes  of  the  world,  and  of 
the  fall  of  any  of  high  place.  Neither  will  your 
lordships  forget  that  there  are  vitia  temporis  as 
well  as  villa  hominis,  and  that  the  beginning  of 
reformations  hath  the  contrary  power  of  the  pool 
of  Bethesda ;  for  that  had  strength  to  cure  only 
him  that  was  first  cast  in,  and  this  hath  common 
ly  strength  to  hurt  him  only  that  is  first  cast  in  ; 
and  for  my  part,  I  wish  it  may  stay  there,  and  go 
no  further. 

"  Lastly,  I  assure  myself  your  lordships  have  a 
noble  feeling  of  me,  as  a  member  of  your  own 
body,  and  one  that,  in  this  very  session,  had  some 
taste  of  your  loving  affections,  which,!  hope,  was 
not  a  lightening  before  the  death  of  them,  but 
rather  a  spark  of  that  grace,  which  now  in  the 
conclusion  will  more  appear. 

"And  therefore  my  humble  suit  to  your  lord 
ships  is,  that  my  penitent  submission  may  be  my 
sentence,  and  the  loss  of  the  seal  my  punish 
ment;  and  that  your  lordships  will  spare  any 
further  sentence,  but  recommend  me  to  his  ma 
jesty's  grace  and  pardon  for  all  that  is  past. 
God's  Holy  Spirit  be  amongst  you.  Your  lord 
ships'  humble  servant  and  suppliant, 

"  FR.  ST.  ALBAN,  Cane." 

April  22,  1621. 

Although  the  king  and  Buckingham  hoped  that 
this  general  submission  would  be  satisfactory, 
the  agitation  was  too  great  to  be  thus  easily 
quieted.  It  was,  after  deliberation,  resolved  that 
the  lord  chancellor's  submission  gave  not  satis 
faction  to  their  lordships,  for  that  his  lordship's 
confession  therein  was  not  fully  nor  particularly 
set  down,  and  for  many  other  exceptions  against 
the  submission  itself,  the  same  in  sort  extenuat 
ing  his  confession,  and  his  lordship  seeming  to 
prescribe  the  sentence  to  be  given  against  him  by 
the  house. 


Their  lordships  resolved,  that  the  lord  chancel 
lor  should  be  charged  particularly  with  the  bri 
beries  and  corruptions  complained  of  against 
him,  and  that  his  lordship  should  make  a  particu 
lar  answer  thereunto.  It  was,  therefore,  ordered 
that  the  particulars  of  the  charge  be  sent  to  the 
lord  chancellor,  and  that  the  lords  do  expect  his 
answer  to  the  same  with  all  convenient  expedi 
tion.  They  were  sent  accordingly. 

This  fatal  result  was  instantly  communicated 
to  the  chancellor  by  his  faithful  attendant,  Bushel. 
He  proceeded,  therefore,  to  a  minute  answer  to 
each  particular  charge,  which  he  so  framed  that 
future  ages  might  see  the  times  when  the  presents 
were  made,  and  the  persons  by  whom  they  were 
offered. 

On  the  30th  of  April,  the  lord  chief  justice 
signified  that  he  had  received  from  the  lord  chan 
cellor  a  paper  roll,  sealed  up,  which  was  delivered 
to  the  clerk ;  and  being  opened,  and  found  directed 
to  their  lordships,  it  was  read  : 

"To  the  Right  honourable  the  Lords  Spiritual 
and  Temporal,  in  the  High  Court  of  Parlia 
ment  assembled, 

"The  Confession  and  Humble  Submission  of 
me,  the  Lord  Chancellor. 

"Upon  advised  consideration  of  the  charge, 
descending  into  my  own  conscience,  and  calling 
my  memory  to  account  so  far  as  I  am  able,  I  do 
plainly  and  ingenuously  confess  that  I  am  guilty 
of  corruption,  and  do  renounce  all  defence,  and 
put  myself  upon  the  grace  and  mercy  of  your 
lordships. 

"  The  particulars  I  confess  and  declare  to  be 
as  followeth  : 

"1.  To  the  first  article  of  the  charge,  viz.  in 
the  cause  between  Sir  Rowland  Egerton  and 
Edward  Egerton,  the  lord  chancellor  received 
five  hundred  pounds  on  the  part  of  Sir  Rowland 
Egerton,  before  he  decreed  the  cause :  I  do  con 
fess  and  declare,  that  upon  a  reference  from  his 
majesty  of  all  suits  and  controversies  between  Sir 
Rowland  Egerton  and  Mr.  Edward  Egerton,  both 
parties  submitted  themselves  to  my  award,  by 
recognisance  reciprocal  in  ten  thousand  marks 
apiece.  Thereupon,  after  divers  hearings,  I  made 
my  award,  with  advice  and  consent  of  my 
Lord  Hobart.  The  award  was  perfected  and 
published  to  the  parties,  which  was  in  February ; 
then,  some  days  after,  the  five  hundred  pounds 
mentioned  in  the  charge  was  delivered  unto  me. 
Afterwards  Mr.  Edward  Egerton  fled  off  from  the 
award  ;  then,  in  midsummer  term  following,  a  suit 
was  begun  in  chancery  by  Sir  Rowland,  to  have 
the  award  confirmed  ;  and  upon  that  suit  was  the 
decree  made  which  is  mentioned  in  the  article. 

"2.  To  the  second  article  of  the  charge,  viz.  in 
the  same  cause  he  received  from  Edward  Egerton 
four  hundred  pounds  :  I  confess  and  declare,  that 


XCV1 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


soon  after  my  first  coming  to  the  seal,  (being1  a 
time  when  I  was  presented  by  many,)  the  four 
hundred  pounds  mentioned  in  the  charge  was  de 
livered  unto  me  in  a  purse,  and  I  now  call  to  mind, 
from  Mr.  Edward  Egerton ;  but,  as  far  as  I  can 
remember,  it  was  expressed  by  them  that  brought 
it  to  be  for  favours  past,  and  not  in  respect  to 
favours  to  come. 

"  3.  To  the  third  article  of  the  charge,  viz.,  in 
the  cause  between  Hody  and  Hody,  he  received 
a  dozen  of  buttons,  of  the  value  of  fifty  pounds, 
about  a  fortnight  after  the  cause  was  ended :  I 
confess  and  declare,  that,  as  it  is  laid  in  the 
charge,  about  a  fortnight  after  the  cause  was 
onded,  (it  being  a  suit  of  a  great  inheritance,) 
there  were  gold  buttons  about  the  value  of  fifty 
pounds,  as  is  mentioned  in  the  charge,  presented 
unto  me,  as  I  remember,  by  Sir  Thomas  Perient 
and  the  party  himself. 

"  4.  To  the  fourth  article  of  the  charge,  viz.,  in 
the  cause  between  the  Lady  Wharton  and  the 
co-heirs  of  Sir  Francis  Willoughby,  he  received 
of  the  Lady  Wharton  three  hundred  and  ten 
pounds  :  I  confess  and  declare,  that  I  received  of 
the  Lady  Wharton,  at  two  several  times,  (as  I  re 
member,)  in  gold,  two  hundred  pounds  and  a 
hundred  pieces,  and  this  was  certainly  pcndcnlt 
lite;  but  yet  I  have  a  vehement  suspicion  that 
there  was  some  shuffling  between  Mr.  Shute  and 
the  register,  in  entering  some  orders,  which  af 
terwards  I  did  distaste. 

"5.  To  the  fifth  article  of  the  charge,  viz..  in 
Sir  Thomas  Monk's  cause,  he  received  from  Sir 
Thomas  Monk,  by  the  hands  of  Sir  I  Icnry  Helmes, 
a  hundred  and  ten  pounds;  but  this  was  three- 
quarters  of  a  year  after  the  suit  was  ended  :  1  con 
fess  it  to  be  true,  that  I  received  a  hundred 
pieces  ;  but  it  was  long  after  the  suit  ended,  as  is 
contained  in  the  charge. 

"  G.  To  the  sixth  article  of  the  charge,  viz..  in 
the  cause  between  Sir  John  Treavor  and  Ascue, 
he  received,  on  the  part  of  Sir  John  Treavor,  a 
hundred  pounds:  I  confess  and  declare,  that  I 
received  at  new  years-tide  a  hundred  pounds 
from  Sir  John  Treavor;  and  because  it  came  as  a 
now  year's  gift,  I  neglected  to  inquire  whether 
the  cause  was  ended  or  depending;  but  since  I 
find,  that  though  the  cause  was  then  dismissed  to 
a  trial  at  law,  yet  the  equity  is  reserved,  so  as  it 
was  in  that  kind  pcndcnte  lite. 

"7.  To  the  seventh  article  of  the  charge,  viz., 
in  the  cause  between  Hoi  man  and  Young,  he 
received  of  Young  a  hundred  pounds,  after  the 
decree  made  for  him  ;  I  confess  and  declare,  that, 
as  I  remember,  a  good  while  after  the  cause  ended, 
I  received  a  hundred  pounds,  either  by  Mr.  Tobie 
Matthew,  or  from  Young  himself;  but  whereas  I 
understood  that  there<was  some  money  given  by 
Holrnan  to  my  servant  Hatcher,  with  thatcertainly 
I  was  never  made  privy. 

"  8.  Tu.  the  eighth  article  of  the  charge,  viz., 


in  the  cause  between  Fisher  and  Wrenham,  the 
lord  chancellor,  after  the  decree  passed,'  received 
from  Fisher  a  suit  of  hangings,  worth  a  hundred 
and  sixty  pounds  and  better,  which  Fisher  gave 
by  advice  of  Mr.  Shute :  I  confess  and  declare, 
that  some  time  after  the  decree  passed,  I  being  at 
that  time  upon  remove  to  York  House.  I  did  receive 
a  suit  of  hangings  of  the  value,  I  think,  mentioned 
in  the  charge,  by  Mr.  Shute,  as  from  Sir  Edward 
Fisher,  towards  the  furnishing  of  my  house,  as 
some  others  that  were  no  way  suitors  did  present 
me  the  like  about  that  time. 

"  9.  To  the  ninth  article  of  the  charge,  viz.,  in 
the  cause  between  Kennedey  and  Vanlore,  he 
received  a  rich  cabinet  from  Kennedey,  prized  at 
eight  hundred  pounds  :  I  confess  and  declare,  that 
such  a  cabinet  was  brought  to  my  house,  though 
nothing  near  half  the  value  ;  and  that  I  said  to  him 
that  brought  it,  that  I  came  to  view  it,  and  not  to 
receive  it;  and  gave  commandment  that  it  should 
be  carried  back,  and  was  offended  when  I  heard  it 
was  not;  and  some  year  and  a  half  after,  as  I 
remember,  Sir  John  Kennedey  having  all  that 
time  refused  to  take  it  awaj7.  as  I  am  told  by  my 
servant,  I  was  petitioned  by  one  Pinckney,  that 
it  might  be  delivered  to  him,  for  that  he  stood 
engaged  for  the  money  that  Sir  John  Kennedey 
paid  for  it.  And  thereupon  Sir  John  Kennedey 
wrote  a  letter  to  my  servant  Shereborne  with  his 
own  hand,  desiring  that  I  would  not  do  him  that 
disgrace  as  to  return  that  gift  back,  much  lesj  to 
put  it  into  a  wrong  hand  ;  and  so  it  remains  yet 
ready  to  be  returned  to  whom  your  lordships  shall 
appoint. 

"10.  To  the  tenth  article  of  the  charge,  viz., 
he  borrowed  of  Vanlore  a  thousand  pounds,  upon 
his  own  bond,  at  one  time,  and  the  like  sum  at 
another  time,  upon  his  lordship's  own  bill,  sub 
scribed  by  Mr.  Hunt,  his  man:  1  confess  and 
declare,  that  I  borrowed  the  money  in  the  article 
set  down,  and  that  this  is  a  true  debt.  And  I 
remember  well  that  I  wrote  a  letter  from  Kew, 
above  a  twelvemonth  since,  to  a  friend  about  the 
king,  wherein  I  desired  that,  whereas  I  owed  Peter 
Vanlore  two  thousand  pounds,  his  majesty  would 
be  pleased  to  grant  me  so  much  out  of  his  fine  set 
upon  him  in  the  Star  Chamber. 

"11.  To  the  eleventh  article  of  the  charge,  viz., 
he  received  of  Richard  Scott  two  hundred  pounds, 
after  his  cause  was  decreed,  (but  upon  a  precedent 
promise,)  all  which  was  transacted  by  Mr.  Shute: 
I  confess  and  declare,  that  some  fortnight  after, 
as  I  remember,  that  the  decree  passed,  I  received 
two  hundred  pounds,  as  from  Mr.  Scott,  by  Mr. 
Shute;  but,  for  any  precedent  promise  or  trans 
action  by  Mr.  Shute,  certain  I  am  I  knew  of 
none. 

"  12.  To  the  twelfth  article  of  the  charge,  viz., 
he  received  in  the  same  cause,  on  the  part  of  Sir 
John  Lentall,  a  hundred  pounds:  I  confess  and 
declare,  that  some  months  after,  as  I  remember, 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


xcvn 


that  the  decree  passed,  I  received  a  hundred 
pounds  by  my  servant  Shereburne,  as  from  Sir 
John  Lentall,  who  was  not  the  adverse  party  to 
Scott,  but  a  third  person,  relieved  by  the  same 
decree,  in  the  suit  of  one  Powre. 

"  13.  To  the  thirteenth  article  of  the  charge, 
viz.,  he  received  of  Mr.  Wroth  a  hundred  pounds, 
in  respect  of  the  cause  between  him  and  Sir 
Arthur  Maynewaringe ;  I  confess  and  declare,  that 
this  cause,  being  a  cause  for  inheritance  of  good 
value,  was  ended  by  my  arbitrament,  and  consent 
of  parties ;  and  so  a  decree  passed  of  course.  And 
some  month  after  the  cause  thus  ended,  the  hun 
dred  pounds  mentioned  in  the  article  was  delivered 
to  me  by  my  servant  Hunt. 

"  14.  To  the  fourteenth  article  of  the  charge, 
viz.,  he  received  of  Sir  Raphe  Hansby,  having  a 
cause  depending  before  him,  five  hundred  pounds ; 
I  confess  and  declare,  that  there  were  two  decrees, 
one,  as  I  remember,  for  the  inheritance,  and  the 
other  for  goods  and  chattels,  but  all  upon  one  bill; 
and  some  good  time  after  the  first  decree,  and  before 
the  second,  the  said  five  hundred  pounds  were 
delivered  me  by  Mr.  Tobie  Matthew,  so  as  I  can 
not  deny  but  it  was  upon  the  matter,  pendente  lite. 

"  15.  To  the  fifteenth  article  of  the  charge,  viz., 
William  Compton  being  to  have  an  extent  for  a 
debt  of  one  thousand  and  two  hundred  pounds, 
the  lord  chancellor  stayed  it,  and  wrote  his  letter, 
upon  which  part  of  the  debt  was  paid  presently, 
and  part  at  a  future  day.  The  lord  chancellor 
hereupon  sends  to  borrow  five  hundred  pounds; 
and  because  Compton  was  to  pay  four  hundred 
pounds  to  one  Huxley,  his  lordship  requires  Hux 
ley  to  forbear  it  six  months,  and  thereupon  ob 
tains  the  money  from  Compton.  The  money 
being  unpaid,  suit  grows  between  Huxley  and 
Compton  in  chancery,  where  his  lordship  decrees 
Compton  to  pay  Huxley  the  debt,  with  damages 
and  costs,  when  it  was  in  his  own  hands :  I 
declare,  that  in  my  conscience,  the  stay  of  the 
extent  was  just,  being  an  extremity  against  a 
nobleman,  by  whom  Compton  could  be  no  loser. 
The  money  was  plainly  borrowed  of  Compton 
upon  bond  with  interest;  and  the  message  to 
Huxley  was  only  to  entreat  him  to  give  Compton 
a  longer  day,  and  in  no  sort  to  make  me  debtor  or 
responsible  to  Huxley;  and,  therefore,  though  I 
were  not  ready  to  pay  Compton  his  money,  as  I 
would  have  been  glad  to  have  done,  save  only 
one  hundred  pounds,  which  is  paid;  I  could  not 
deny  justice  to  Huxley,  in  as  ample  manner  as  if 
nothing  had  been  between  Compton  and  me.  But, 
if  Compton  hath  been  damnified  in  my  respect,  I 
am  to  consider  it  to  Compton. 

"16.  To  the  sixteenth  article  of  the  charge, 
viz.,  in  the  cause  between  Sir  William  Bronker 
and  Awbrey,  the  lord  chancellor  received  from 
Awbrey  a  hundred  pounds :  I  do  confess  and 
declare,  that  the  money  was  given  and  received; 
but  the  manner  of  it  I  leave  to  the  witnesses. 

VOL.  I.— (13) 


"  17.  To  the  seventeenth  article  of  the  charge, 
viz.,  in  the  Lord  Mountague's  cause,  he  received 
from  the  Lord  Mountague  six  or  seven  hundred 
pounds ;  and  more  was  to  be  paid  at  the  ending 
of  the  cause :  I  confess  and  declare,  there  was 
money  given,  and  (as  I  remember)  by  Mr.  Bevis 
Thelwall,  to  the  sum  mentioned  in  the  article 
after  the  cause  was  decreed  ;  but  I  cannot  say  it 
was  ended,  for  there  have  been  many  orders 
since,  caused  by  Sir  Frauncis  Englefeild's  con 
tempts  ;  and  I  do  remember  that,  when  Thelwall 
brought  the  money,  he  said,  that  my  lord  would 
be  further  thankful  if  he  could  once  get  his  quiet ; 
to  which  speech  I  gave  little  regard. 

"  18.  To  the  eighteenth  article  of  he  charge, 
viz.,  in  the  cause  of  Mr.  Dunch,  he  received  of 
Mr.  Dunch  two  hundred  pounds;  I  confess  and 
declare,  that  it  was  delivered  by  Mr.  Thelwall  to 
Hatcher  my  servant,  for  me,  as  I  think,  some 
time  after  the  decree ;  but  I  cannot  precisely  in 
form  myself  of  the  time. 

"  19.  To  the  nineteenth  article  of  the  charge, 
viz.,  in  the  cause  between  Reynell  and  Peacock, 
he  received  from  Reynell  two  hundred  pounds,  and 
a  diamond  ring  worth  five  or  six  hundred  pounds: 
I  confess  and  declare,  that,  at  my  first  coming  to 
the  seal,  when  I  was  at  Whitehall,  my  servant 
Hunt  delivered  me  two  hundred  pounds,  from 
Sir  George  Reynell,  my  near  ally,  to  be  bestowed 
upon  furniture  of  my  house ;  adding  further,  that 
he  received  divers  former  favours  from  me;  and 
this  was,  as  I  verily  think,  before  any  suit  begun. 
The  ring  was  received  certainly  pendenle  lite; 
and,  though  it  were  new  year's-tide,  yet  it  was 
too  great  a  value  for  a  new  year's  gift,  though,  as 
I  take  it,  nothing  near  the  value  mentioned  in  the 
article. 

"  20.  To  the  twentieth  article  of  the  charge, 
viz.,  he  took  of  Peacock  a  hundred  pounds,  and 
borrowed  a  thousand  pounds,  without  interest, 
security,  or  time  of  payment :  I  confess  and  de 
clare,  that  I  received  of  Mr.  Peacock  a  hundred 
pounds  at  Dorset  House,  at  my  first  coming  to 
the  seal,  as  a  present ;  at  which  time  no  suit  was 
begun;  and  that,  the  summer  after,  I  sent  my 
then  servant  Lister  to  Mr.  Rolf,  my  good  friend 
and  neighbour,  at  St.  Albans,  to  use  his  means 
with  Mr.  Peacock  (who  was  accounted  a  moneyed 
man)  for  the  borrowing  of  five  hundred  pounds ; 
and  after,  by  my  servant  Hatcher,  for  borrowing 
of  five  hundred  pounds  more,  which  Mr.  Rolf 
procured,  and  told  me,  at  both  times,  that  it 
should  be  without  interest,  script,  or  note ;  and 
that  I  should  take  my  own  time  ror  payment  of  it. 

"21.  To  the  one-and-twentieth  article  of  the 
charge,  viz.,  in  the  cause  between  Smithwick 
and  Wyche,  he  received  from  Smithwick  two 
hundred  pounds,  which  was  repaid  :  I  confess  and 
declare,  that  my  servant  Hunt  did,  upon  his  ac- 
compt,  being  my  receiver  of  the  fines  of  original 
writs,  charge  himself  with  two  hundred  pounds, 


ACV111 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


formerly  received  of  Smithwick,  which,  after  that  I 
had  understood  the  nature  of  it,  I  ordered  him  to 
repay  it,  and  to  defaulk  it  of  his  accompt. 

"  22.  To  the  two-and -twentieth  article  of  the 
charge,  viz.,  in  the  cause  of  Sir  Henry  Russwell, 
he  received  money  from  Russwell ;  but  it  is  not 
certain  how  much  :  I  confess  and  declare,  that  I 
received  money  from  my  servant  Hunt,  as  from 
Mr.  Russwell,  in  a  purse  ;  and,  whereas  the  sum 
in  the  article  is  indefinite,  I  confess  it  to  be  three 
or  four  hundred  pounds  ;  and  it  was  about  some 
months  after  the  cause  was  decreed,  in  which  de 
cree  I  was  assisted  by  two  of  the  judges. 

"23.  To  the  three-and-twentieth  article  of  the 
charge,  viz.,  in  the  cause  of  Mr.  Barker,  the  lord 
chancellor  received  from  Barker  seven  hundred 
pounds  :  I  confess  and  declare,  that  the  money 
mentioned  in  the  article  was  received  from  Mr. 
Barker,  some  time  after  the  decree  passed. 

"  24.  To  th^  four-and-twentieth  article,  five- 
and-twentieth,  and  six-and-twentieth  articles  of 
the  charge,  viz.,  the  four-and-twentieth,  there  being 
a  reference  from  his  majesty  to  his  lordship  of  a 
business  between  the  Grocers  and  the  Apotheca 
ries,  the  lord  chancellor  received  of  the  Grocers 
two  hundred  pounds.  The  five-and-twentieth 
article;  in  the  same  cause,  he  received  of  the 
Apothecaries  that  stood  with  the  Grocers,  a  taster 
of  gold,  worth  between  forty  and  fifty  pounds,  and 
a  present  of  ambergrease.  And  the  six-and-twen 
tieth  article :  he  received  of  the  New  Company 
of  the  Apothecaries  that  stood  against  the  Gro 
cers,  a  hundred  pounds  :  To  these  I  confess  and 
declare,  that  the  several  sums  from  the  three  par 
ties  were  received ;  and  for  that  it  was  no  judicial 
business,  but  a  concord,  or  composition  between 
the  parties,  and  that  as  I  thought  all  had  received 
good,  and  they  were  all  three  common  purses,  I 
thought  it  the  less  matter  to  receive  that  which 
they  voluntarily  presented ;  for  if  I  had  taken  it 
in  the  nature  of  a  corrupt  bribe,  I  knew  it  could 
not  be  concealed,  because  it  must  needs  be  put 
to  accompt  to  the  three  several  companies. 

"  27.  To  the  seven-and-twentieth  article  of  the 
charge,  viz.,  he  took  of  the  French  merchants  a 
thousand  pounds,  to  constrain  the  vintners  of 
London  to  take  from  them  fifteen  hundred  tuns 
of  wine  ;  to  accomplish  which,  he  used  very  in 
direct  means,  by  colour  of  his  office  and  authority, 
without  bill  or  suit  depending;  terrifying  the 
vintners,  by  threats  and  imprisonments  of  their 
persons,  to  buy  wines,  whereof  they  had  no  need 
or  use,  at  higher  rates  than  they  were  vendible  :  I 
do  confess  and  declare,  that  Sir  Thomas  Smith 
did  deal  with  me  in  the  behalf  of  the  French  com 
pany  ;  informing  me  that  the  vintners,  by  combi 
nation,  would  not  take  off  their  wines  at  any 
reasonable  prices.  That  it  would  destroy  their 
trade,  and  stay  their  voyage  for  that  year ;  and 
that  it  was  a  fair  business,  and  concerned  the 
state ;  and  he  doubted  not  but  I  should  receive 


thanks  from  the  king,  and  honour  by  it;  and  that 
they  would  gratify  me  with  a  thousand  pounds 
for  my  travel  in  it ;  whereupon  I  treated  between 
them,  by  way  of  persuasion,  and  (to  prevent  any 
compulsory  suit)  propounding  such  a  price  as  the 
vintners  might  be  gainers  six  pounds  per  tun,  as 
it  was  then  maintained  to  me ;  and  after,  the  mer 
chants  petitioning  to  the  king,  and  his  majesty 
recommending  the  business  unto  me  as  a  busi 
ness  that  concerned  his  customs  and  the  navy,  I 
dealt  more  earnestly  and  peremptorily  in  it ;  and, 
as  I  think,  restrained  in  the  messengers'  hands 
for  a  day  or  two  some  that  were  the  more  stiff; 
and  afterwards  the  merchants  presented  me  with  a 
thousand  pounds  out  of  their  common  purse;  ac 
knowledging  themselves  that  I  had  kept  them 
from  a  kind  of  ruin,  and  still  maintaining  to  rne 
that  the  vintners,  if  they  were  not  insatiably 
minded,  had  a  very,  competent  gain.  This  is 
the  merits  of  the  cause,  as  it  then  appeared  unto 
me. 

"28.  To  the  eight-and-twentieth  article  of  the 
charge,  viz.,  the  lord  chancellor  hath  given  way 
to  great  exactions  by  his  servants,  both  in  respect, 
of  private  seals,  and  otherwise  for  sealing  of  in 
junctions  :  I  confess,  it  was  a  great  fault  of 
neglect  in  me,  that  I  looked  no  better  to  my 
servants. 

"  This  declaration  I  have  made  to  your  lord 
ships  with  a  sincere  mind ;  humbly  craving,  that 
if  there  should  be  any  mistaking,  your  lordships 
would  impute  it  to  want  of  memory,  and  not  to 
any  desire  of  mine  to  obscure  truth,  or  palliate  any 
thing  :  for  I  do  again  confess,  that  in  the  points 
charged  upon  me,  although  they  should  be  taken  as 
myself  have  declared  them,  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
corruption  and  neglect,  for  which  I  am  heartily 
and  penitently  sorry,  and  submit  myself  to  the 
judgment,  grace,  and  mercy  of  the  court. 

"  For  extenuation,  I  will  use  none  concerning 
the  matters  themselves;  only  it  may  please  your 
lordships,  out  of  your  nobleness,  to  cast  your  eyes 
of  compassion  upon  my  person  and  estate.  I  was 
never  noted  for  an  avaricious  man.  And  the 
apostle  saith,  that  covetousness  is  the  root  of 
evil.  I  hope  also,  that  your  lordships  do  the 
rather  find  me  in  the  state  of  grace ;  for  that,  in 
all  these  particulars,  there  are  few  or  none  that 
are  not  almost  two  years  old,  whereas  those  tha 
have  a  habit  of  corruption  do  commonly  wax 
worse  and  worse  ;  so  that  it  hath  pleased  God  to 
prepare  me,  by  precedent  degrees  of  amendment, 
to  my  present  penitency.  And  for  my  estate,  it 
is  so  mean  and  poor,  as  my  care  is  now  chiefly  to 
satisfy  my  debts. 

"  And  so,  fearing  I  have  troubled  your  lordships 
too  long,  I  shall  conclude  with  an  humble  suit 
unto  you,  that,  if  your  lordships  proceed  to  sen 
tence,  your  sentence  may  not  be  heavy  to  my  ruin, 
but  gracious,  and  mixed  with  mercy  ;  and  not  only 
so,  but  that  you  would  be  noble  intercessors  for  me 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


XC1X 


to  his  majesty  likewise,  for  his  grace  and  favour. 
Your  lordships'  humble  servant  and  suppliant, 
"  FR.  ST.  ALBAN,  Cane." 

This  confession  and  submission  being  read,  it 
was  agreed  that  certain  lords  do  go  unto  the  lord 
chancellor,  and  show  him  the  said  confession ; 
and  tell  him  that  the  lords  do  conceive  it  to  be 
an  ingenuous  and  full  confession,  and  demand 
whether  it  be  his  own  hand  that  is  subscribed  to 
the  same  ;  and  their  lordships  being  returned,  re 
ported,  that  the  lord  chancellor  said,  "It  is  my 
act,  my  hand,  my  heart.  I  beseech  your  lord 
ships,  be  merciful  unto  a  broken  reed." 

On  the  2d  of  May,  the  seals  having  been  se 
questered,  the  House  resolved  to  proceed  to  judg 
ment  on  the  next  day. 

In.  this  interval,  on  the  evening  of  the  2d  of 
May,  the  chancellor  wrote  to  the  king,  "  to  save 
him  from  the  sentence,  to  let  the  cup  pass  from 
him ;  for  if  it  is  Deformation  that  is  sought,  tak 
ing  the  seals  will,  with  the  general  submission, 
be  sufficient  atonement." 

These  his  last  hopes  were  vain :  the  king  did 
not,  he  could  not  interpose. 

On  the  3d  of  May  the  Lords  adjudged,  "that, 
upon  his  own  confession,  they  had  found  him 
guilty :  and  therefore  that  he  shall  undergo  fine 
and  ransom  of  forty  thousand  pounds ;  be  impri 
soned  in  the  Tower  during  the  king's  pleasure  ; 
be  forever  incapable  of  any  office,  place,  or  em 
ployment  in  the  state  or  commonwealth;  and 
shall  never  sit  in  parliament,  nor  come  within  the 
verge  of  the  court." 

Thus  fell,  from  the  height  of  worldly  prosperity, 
Francis,  Lord  Chancellor  of  Great.  Britain. 

The  cause  of  his  having  deserted  his  defence 
he  never  revealed.  He  patiently  endured  the 
agony  of  uncoYnmumcated  grief.  He  confidently 
relied  upon  the  justice  of  future  ages.  There  are, 
however,  passages  in  his  writings  where  his  deep 
feeling  of  the  injury  appear. 

In  the  Advancement  of  Learning  we  are  ad 
monished  that,  "  Words  best  disclose  our  minds 
when  we  are  agitated, 

Vino  tortus  et  ira  ; 

for,  as  Proteus  never  changed  shapes  till  he  was 
straitened  and  held  fast  with  cords,  so  our  nature 
appears  most  fully  in  trials  and  vexations." 

By  observing  his  words  in  moments  of  agita 
tion,  the  state  of  his  mind  is  manifest. 

When  imprisoned  in  the  Tower,  he  instantly 
wrote  to  Buckingham,  saying,  "  However  I  have 
acknowledged  that  the  sentence  is  just,  and  for 
reformation  sake  fit,  I  have  been  a  trusty,  and 
honest,  and  Christ-loving  friend  to  your  lordship, 
and  the  justest  chancellor  that  hath  been  in  the 
five  changes  since  my  father's  time." 


In  another  letter,  "  God  is  my  witness,  that, 
when  I  examine  myself,  I  find  all  well,  and  that 
I  have  approved  myself  to  your  lordship  a  true 
friend,  both  in  the  watery  trial  of  prosperity,  and  in 
the  fiery  trial  of  adversity  :"  "I  hope  his  majesty 
may  reap  honour  out  of  my  adversity,  as  he  hath 
done  strength  out  of  my  prosperity." 

"  For  the  briberies  and  gifts  wherewith  I  am 
charged,  when  the  book  of  hearts  shall  be  opened, 
I  hope  I  shall  not  be  found  to  have  the  troubled 
fountain  of  a  corrupt  heart,  in  a  depraved  habit  of 
taking  rewards  to  pervert  justice;  howsoever  I 
may  be  frail,  and  partake  of  the  abuses  of  the 
time,"  was  his  expression  in  the  midst  of  his  agony. 

In  a  collection  of  his  letters  in  the  Lambeth 
Library  there  is  the  following  passage  in  Greek 

characters;  O0  f*y  oQtvtr,  0ap  /?e  IT  0po/x  ;u£  TO  (ray.  3ar 
vcvtan  Kopvts;  ve^m  Ktvavpa  Ko\v^j3arr:  pvr  i  coi/XA  era? 
Oar  i  avs  yood  uappavr  (pop:  6sy  a)£,0£  VOT  Os  ypcaTevr 
o00£y<5£pj  iv  IffpazX  VTTOV  «j?o/*  Os  waXX  <p£\\. 

In  his  will,  he  says,  "For  my  name  and 
memory,  I  leave  it  .toymen's  charitable  speeches, 
to  foreign  nations,  and  the  next  ages." 

These  words,  not  to  be  read  till  he  was  at  rest 
from  his  labours,  were  cautiously  selected,  with 
the  knowledge  which  he,  above  all  men,  possess 
ed  of  the  power  of  expression,  and  of  their  certain 
influence,  sooner  or  later,  upon  society. 

The  obligation  to  silence,  imposed  upon  Bacon, 
extended  to  his  friends  after  he  was  in  the  grave. 

Dr.  Rawley,  his  first  and  last  chaplain,  says, 
"Some  papers  touching  matters  of  estate,  tread 
too  near  to  the  heels  of  truth,  and  to  the  times  of 
the  persons  concerned." 

Archbishop  Tennison  says,  "  The  great  cause 
of  his  suffering  is  to  some  £  secret.  I  leave  them 
to^find  it  out  by  his  words  to  King  James  :  '  I 
wish  that  as  I  am  the  first,  so  I  may  be  the  last 
of  sacrifices  in  your  times:'  and  when,  from 
private  appetite,  it  is  resolved  that  a  creature 
shall  be  sacrificed,  it  is  easy  to  pick  up  sticks 
enough  from  any  thicket  whither  it  hath  strayed, 
to  make  a  fire  to  offer  it  with." 

From  these  observations  it  may  be  seen,  that 
there  was  a  conflict  in  the  minds  of  these  excel 
lent  men  between  their  inclination  to  speak  and 
their  duty  to  be  silent.  They  did  not  violate  this 
duty ;  but  one  of  his  most  sincere  and  grateful 
admirers,  who,  although  he  had  painfully,  but 
sacredly,  preserved  the  secret  from  his  youth  to  his 
old  age,  at  last  thus  spoke : 

"Before this  could  be  accomplished  to  his  own 
content,  there  arose  such  complaints  against  his 
lordship,  and  the  then  favourite  at  court,  that  for 
some  days  put  the  king  to  this  quere,  whether  he 
should  permit  the  favourite  of  his  affection,  or  the 
oracle  of  his  council,  to  sink  in  his  service; 
whereupon  his  lordship  was  sent  for  by  the  king, 
who,  after  some  discourse,  gave  him  this  positive 
advice,  to  submit  himself  to  his  House  of  Peers, 
and  that,  upon  his  princely  word,  he  would  then 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


restore  him  again,  if  they,  in  their  honours,  should 
not  be  sensible  of  his  merits.  Now,  though  my 
lord  saw  his  approaching  ruin,  and  told  his  majesty 
there  was  little  hopes  of  mercy  in  a  multitude, 
when  his  enemies  were  to  give  fire,  if  he  did  not 
plead  for  himself:  yet  such  was  his  obedience  to 
him  from  whom  he  had  his  being,  that  he  resolved 
his  majesty's  will  should  be  his  only  law ;  and  so 
took  leave  of  him  with  these  words :  Those  that 
will  strike  at  your  chancellor,  it  is  much  to  be 
feared,  will  strike  at  your  crown ;  and  wished, 
that  as  he  was  then  the  first,  so  he  might  be  the 
last  of  sacrifices. 

"  Soon  after,  according  to  his  majesty's  com 
mands,  he  wrote  a  submissive  letter  to  the  House, 
and  sent  me  to  my  Lord  Windsor  to  know  the 
result,  which  I  was  loath,  at  my  return,  to  acquaint 
him  with;  for,  alas!  his  sovereign's  favour  was 
not  in  so  high  a  measure,  but  he,  like  the  phoenix, 
must  be  sacrificed  in  flames  of  his  own  raising, 
and  so  perished,  like  Icarus,  in  that  his  lofty 
design  :  the  great  revenue  of  his  office  being  lost, 
and  his  titles  of  honour  saved  but  by  the  bishops' 
votes,  whereto  he  replied,  that  he  was  only  bound 
to  thank  his  clergy. 

"  The  thunder  of  which  fatal  sentence  did  much 
perplex  my  troubled  thoughts  as  well  as  others,  to 
see  that  famous  lord,  who  procured  his  majesty 
to  call  this  parliament,  must  be  the  first  subject 
of  their  revengeful  wrath,  and  that  so  unparalleled 
a  master  should  he  thus  brought  upon  the  public 
stage,  for  the  foolish  miscarriage  of  his  own  ser 
vants,  whereof,  with  grief  of  heart,  I  confess 
myself  to  be  one.  Yet,  shortly  after,  the  king 
dissolved  the  parliament,  but  never  restored  that 
matchless  lord  to  his  place,  which  made  him  then 
to  wish  the  many  years  he  had  spent  in  stale 
policy  and  law  study  had  been  solely  devoted  to 
true  philosophy :  for,  said  he,  the  one,  at  the  best, 
doth  but  comprehend  man's  frailty  in  its  greatest 
splendour;  but  the  other,  the  mysterious  know 
ledge  of  all  things  created  in  the  six  days'  work." 

On  the  llth  of  July  the  great  seals  were  deli 
vered  to  Williams,  who  was  now  Lord  Keeper  of 
England  and  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  with  permission 
to  retain  the  deanery  of  Westminster,  and  to 
hold  the  rectory  of  Waldegrave  in  commendam. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FROM    HIS    FALL   TO   HIS    DEATH. 

1621  to  1626. 

SUCH  was  the  storm  in  which  he  was  wrecked. 
*  Methinks,"  says  Archbishop  Tennison,  «« they 
are  resembled  by  those  of  Sir  George  Summers, 
who  being  bound  by  his  employment  to  another 
coast,  was  by  tempest  cast  upon  the  Bermudas : 
and  there  a  shipwrecked  man  made  full  discovery 


of  a  new,  temperate,  fruitful  region,  where  none 
had  before  inhabited ;  and  which-  mariners,  who 
had  only  seen  as  rocks,  had  esteemed  an  inac 
cessible  and  enchanted  place." 

This  temperate  region  was  not  unforeseen  by 
the  chancellor. 

In  a  letter  to  the  king,  on  the  20th  March, 
1622,  he  says,  "  In  the  beginning  of  my  trouble, 
when  in  the  midst  of  the  tempest,  I  had  a  ken 
ning  of  the  harbour,  which  I  hope  now  by  your 
majesty's  favour  I  am  entering  into  :  now  my 
study  is  my  exchange,  and  my  pen  my  practice 
for  the  use  of  my  talent." 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  read  a  page  of  his 
works  without  seeing  that  the  love  of  knowledge 
was  his  ruling  passion  ;  that  his  real  happiness 
consisted  in  intellectual  delight.  How  beauti 
fully  does  he  state  this  when  enumerating  the 
blessings  attendant  upon  the  pursuit  and  posses 
sion  of  knowledge : 

"The  pleasure  and  delight  qf  knowledge  and 
learning  far  surpasseth  all  other  nature  :  for,  shall 
the  pleasures  of  the  affections  so  exceed  the 
senses,  as  much  as  the  obtaining  of  desire  or  vic 
tory  exceedeth  a  song  or  a  dinner;  and  must  not, 
of  consequence,  the  pleasures  of  the  intellect  or 
understanding  exceed  the  pleasures  of  the  affec 
tions]  we  see  in  all  other  pleasures  there  is  sati 
ety,  and  after  they  be  used  their  verdure  departeth, 
which  showeth  well  they  be  but  deceits  of  plea 
sure,  and  not  pleasures ;  and  that  it  was  the  novelty 
which  pleased,  and  not  the  quality;  and  therefore 
we  see  that  voluptuous  men  turn  friars,  and  ambi 
tious  princes  turn  melancholy  ;  but  of  knowledge 
there  is  no  satiety,  but  satisfaction  and  appetite  are 
perpetually  interchangeable ;  and  therefore  appear- 
eth  to  be  good  in  itself  simply,  without  fallacy  or 
accident.  Neither  is  that  pleasure  of  small  effi 
cacy  and  contentment  to  the  mind  of  man,  which 
the  poet  Lucretius  describeth  elegantly, 

Suave  niari  magno,  turbantibus  sequora  ventis,  &c. 

'  It  is  a  view  of  delight,  to  stand  or  walk  upon  the 
shore-side,  and  to  see  a  ship  tossed  with  tempest 
upon  the  sea ;  or  to  be  in  a  fortified  tower,  and  to 
see  two  b«ttles  join  upon  a  plain  ;  but  it  is  a  plea 
sure  incomparable  for  the  mind  of  man  to  be 
settled,  landed,  and  fortified  in  the  certainty  of 
truth;  and  from  thence  to  decry  and  behold 
the  errors,  perturbations,  labours,  and  wanderings 
up  and  down  of  other  men.' " 

Happy  would  it  have  been  for  himself  and  so 
ciety,  if,  following  his  own  nature,  he  had  passed 
his  life  in  the  calm  but  obscure  regions  of  phi 
losophy. 

He  now,  however,  had  escaped  from  worldly 
turmoils,  and  was  enabled,  as  he  wrote  to  the 
king,  to  gratify  his  desire  "to  do,  for  the  little 
time  God  shall  send  me  life,  like  the  merchants 
of  London,  which,  when  they  give  over  trade, 
lay  out  their  money  upon  land :  so,  being  freed 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


ci 


from  civil  business,  I  lay  forth  my  poor  talent 
upon  those  things,  which  may  be  perpetual,  still 
having  relation  to  do  you  honour  with  those 
powers  I  have  left." 

In  a  letter  to  Buckingham,  on  the  20th  of 
March,  1621,  he  says,  "I  find  that,  building  upon 
your  lordship's  noble  nature  and  friendship,  I 
have  built  upon  the  rock,  where  neither  winds  nor 
waves  can  cause  overthrow  :"  and,  in  the  conclu 
sion  of  the  same  year,  "I  am  much  fallen  in  love 
with  a  private  life,  but  yet  I  shall  so  spend  my 
time,  as  shall  not  decay  my  abilities  for  use." 

And  in  a  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
in  which,  after  having  considered  the  conduct  in 
their  banishments,  of  Demosthenes.,  Cicero,  and 
Seneca,  he  proceeds  thus  :  "These  examples  con 
firmed  me  much  in  a  resolution,  whereunto  I  was 
otherwise  inclined,  to  spend  my  time  wholly  in 
writing,  and  to  put  forth  that  poor  talent,  or  half- 
talent,  or  what  it  is  that  God  hath  given  me,  not 
as  heretofore  to  particular  exchanges,  but  to  banks 
or  mounts  of  perpetuity,  which  will  not  break. 
Therefore  having  not  long  since  sot  forth  a  part 
of  my  Instauration,  which  is  the  work  that,  in  mine 
own  judgment,  si  nunquam  fallit  imago,  I  may 
most  esteem,  I  think  to  proceed  in  some  new 
parts  thereof;  and  although  I  have  received 
from  many  parts  beyond  the  seas  testimonies 
touching  that  work,  such  as  beyond  which  I  could 
not  expect  at  the  first  in  so  abstruse  an  argument, 
yet,  nevertheless,  I  have  just  cause  to  doubt  that 
it  flies  too  high  over  men's  heads.  I  have  a  pur 
pose,  therefore,  though  I  break  the  order  of  time, 
to  draw  it  down  to  the  sense  by  some  patterns  of 
a  natural  story  and  inquisition.  And,  again,  for 
that  my  book  of  Advancement  of  Learning  may 
be  some  preparative  or  key  for  the  better  opening 
of  the  Instauration,  because  it  exhibits  a  mixture 
of  new  conceits  and  old  ;  whereas  the  Instauration 
gives  the  new  unmixed,  otherwise  than  with 
some  little  aspersion  of  the  old,  for  taste's  sake, 
I  have  thought  good  to  procure  a  translation  of 
that  book  into  the  general  language,  not  without 
great  and  ample  additions  and  enrichment  there 
of,  especially  in  the  second  book,  wrhich  handleth 
the  partition  of  sciences,  in  such  sort,  as  I  hold  it 
may  serve  in  lieu  of  the  first  part  of  the  Instaura 
tion,  and  acquit  my  promise  in  that  part. 

"  Again,  because  I  cannot  altogether  desert  the 
civil  person  that  I  have  borne,  which  if  I  should 
forget,  enough  would  remember,  I  have  also  en 
tered  into  a  work  touching  laws,  propounding  a 
Character  of  justice  in  a  middle  term,  between 
the  speculative  and  reverend  discourses  of  philoso 
phers  and  the  writings  of  lawyers,  which  are  tied,  j 
and  obnoxious  to  their  particular  laws  ;  and  al 
though  it  be  true  that  I  had  a  purpose  to  make  a 
particular  digest,  or  recompilement  of  the  laws  of 
mine  own  nation,  yet  because  it  is  a  work  of  assist 
ance,  and  that.  I  cannot  master  by  my  own  forces 
and  pen,  I  have  laid  it  aside.  Now.  having  in  the  ! 


work  of  Instauration  had  in  contemplation  the 
general  good  of  men  in  their  very  being,  and  the 
dowries  of  nature  ;  and  in  my  work  of  laws,  the 
general  good  of  men  likewise  in  society,  and  the 
dowries  of  government :  I  thought  in  duty  I 
owed  somewhat  to  my  country,  which  I  ever 
loved  ;  insomuch,  as,  although  my  place  hath  been 
far  above  my  desert,  yet  my  thoughts  and  cares 
concerning  the  good  thereof  were  beyond  and 
over  and  above  my  place  :  so  now,  being  as  I  am, 
no  more  able  to  do  my  country  service,  it  remain 
ed  unto  me  to  do  it  honour;  which  I  have  endea 
voured  to  do  in  my  work  of  the  reign  of  King 
Henry  VII.  As  for  my  Essays,  and  some  cthsr 
particulars  of  that  nature  ;  -I. «otin<  tbvem  but  as  the 
recreation  of  my  other  studies,  and  in  that  sort  I 
purpose  to  continue  th.em;:  though -I  aip  not. igno 
rant  that  those  kind'  of  writings'  would,  with  less 
pains  and  embracement,  perhaps,  yield  more 
lustre  and  reputation  to  my  name  than  those  other 
which  I  have  in  hand.  But  I  count  the  use  that 
a  man  should  seek  of  the  publishing  his  own 
writings  before  his  death  to  be  but  an  untimely 
anticipation  of  that  which  is  proper  to  follow  a 
man,  and  not  to  go  along  with  him." 

The  sentence  now  remained  to  be  executed. 
On  the  last  day  of  May,  Lord  St.  Albans  was 
committed  to  the  Tower;  and,  though  he  had 
placed  himself  altogether  in  the  king's  hands, 
confident  in  his  kindness,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  he  could  be  led  to  prison  without  deeply 
feeling  his  disgrace.  In  the  anguish  of  his  mind 
he  instantly  wrote  to  Buckingham  and  to  the 
king,  submitting,  but  maintaining  his  integrity 
as  chancellor. 

"  Good  my  lord, — Procure  the  warrant  for  my 
discharge  this  day.  Death,  I  thank  God,  is  so 
far  from  being  unwelcome  to  me,  as  I  have  called 
for  it  (as  Christian  resolution  would  permit)  any 
time  these  two  months.  But  to  die  before  the 
time  of  his  majesty's  grace,  and  in  this  disgrace 
ful  place,  is  even  the  worst  that  could  be ;  and 
when  I  am  dead,  he  is  gone  that  was  always  in 
one  tenor,  a  true  and  perfect  servant  to  his  master, 
and  one  that  was  never  author  of  any  immode 
rate,  no,  nor  unsafe,  no,  (I  will  say  it,)  not  unfor 
tunate*  counsel ;  and  one  that  no  temptation  could 
ever  make  other  than  a  trusty,  and  honest,  and 
Christ-loving  friend  to  your  lordship  :  and,  howso 
ever  I  acknowledge  the  sentence  just,  and  for  re 
formation  sake  fit,  the  justest  chancellor  that 
hath  been  in  the  five  changes  since  Sir  Nicholas 
Bacon's  time.  God  bless  and  prosper  your  lord 
ship,  whatsoever  become  of  me. 
"  Your  lordship's  true  friend,  living  and  dying, 
Tower,  31st  May,  1612.  «FR.  ST.  ALBAN." 

After  two  days'  imprisonment  he  was  liberated ; 
and,  the   sentence  not  permitting  him   to  come 
within  the  verge  of  the  court,  he  retired,  with  the 
(i  2) 


Cll 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


king's  permission,  to  Sir  John  Vaughan's  house 
at  Parson's  Green,  from  whence,  although  anx 
ious  to  continue  in  or  near  London,  he  went,  in 
compliance  with  his  majesty's  suggestion,  for  a 
temporary  retirement  to  Gorhambury,  where  he 
was  obliged  to  remain  till  the  end  of  the  year,  but 
with  such  reluctance,  that,  with  the  hope  of 
quieting  the  king's  fears,  he  at  one  time  intended 
to  present  a  petition  to  the  House  of  Lords  to 
remit  this  part  of  his  sentence. 

In  the  month  of  July  he  wrote, both  to  Bucking 
ham  and  to  the  king,  letters  in  which  may  be 
seen  his  reliance  upon  them  for  pecuniary  assist 
ant^,  riis  consciousness  cf  innocence,  a  gleam  of 
hope  that  he  should:  b£<rj?sto;;ed  to  his  honours,  and 
occasionally  allusions  to  the  favours  he  had  con- 
Ter-red."  JL\> _-  these  -applications'  he  received  the 
following  answer  from* Buckingham  : 

To  the  Lord  St.  Alban. 

My  noble  lord  : — The  hearty  affection  I  have 
borne  to  your  person  and  service  hath  made  me 
ambitious  to  be  a  messenger  of  good  news  to  you, 
and  an  eschewer  of  ill ;  this  hath  been  the  true 
reason  why  I  have  been  thus  long  in  answering 
you,  not  any  negligence  in  your  discreet,  modest 
servant  you  sent  with  your  letter,  nor  his  who  now 
returns  you  this  answer,  ofttimes  given  me  by 
your  master  and  mine  ;  who,  though  by  this  may 
seem  not  to  satisfy  your  desert  and  expectation, 
yet,  take  the  word  of  a  friend  who  Avill  never  fail 
you,  hath  a  tender  care  of  you,  full  of  a  fresh 
memory  of  your  by-past  service.  His  majesty  is 
but  for  the  present,  he  says,  able  to  yield  unto  the 
three  years'  advance,  which  if  you  please  to  ac 
cept,  you  are  not  hereafter  the  farther  off  from 
obtaining  some  better  testimony  of  his  favour, 
worthier  both  of  him  and  you,  though  it  can  never 
be  answerable  to  what  my  heart  wishes  you,  as 
your  lordship's  humble  servant, 

G.  BUCKINGHAM. 

That  he  was  promised  some  compensation  for 
the  loss  of  his  professional  emoluments  seems 
probable,  not  only  from  his  letters  to  the  king,  and 
from  the  aid  received,  but  from  his  having  lived 
in  splendour  after  his  fall,  although  his  certain 
annual  income  seems  not  to  have  exceeded  £2500. 
"With  this  income  he,  with  prudence,  might, 
although  greatly  in  debt,  have  enjoyed  worldly 
comfort:  but  in  prudence  he  was  culpably  negli 
gent.  Thinking  that  money  was  only  the  bag 
gage  of  virtue,  that  this  interposition  of  earth 
eclipsed  the  clear  sight  of  the  mind,  he  lived  not 
as  a  philosopher  ought  to  have'  lived,  but  as  a 
nobleman  had  been  accustomed  to  live.  It  is  re 
lated  that  the  prince,  coming  to  London,  saw  at  a 
distance  a  coach  followed  by  a  considerable  num 
ber  of  people,  on  horseback ;  and,  upon  inquiry, 
was  told  it  was  the  Lord  St.  Albans,  attended  by 
his  friends;  on  which  his  highness  said,  with  a 


smile,  "  Well,  do  what  we  can,  this  man  scorns 
to  go  out  like  a  snuff." 

Unmindful  that  the  want  of  prudence  can 
never  be  supplied,  he  was  exposed,  in  the  decline 
of  life,  not  only  to  frequent  vexation,  and  his 
thoughts  to  continual  interruption,  but  was  fre 
quently  compelled  to  stoop  to  degrading  solicita 
tions,  and  was  obliged  to  encumber  Gorhambury 
and  sell  York  House,  dear  to  him  from  so  many 
associations,  the  seat  of  his  ancestors,  the  scene 
of  his  former  splendour.  These  worldly  troubles 
seem,  however,  not  to  have  affected  his  cheerful 
ness,  and  never  to  have  diverted  him  from  the 
great  object  of  his  life,  the  acquisition  and  ad 
vancement  of  knowledge.  When  an  application 
was  made  to  him  to  sell  one  of  the  beautiful  woods 
of  Gorhambury,  he  answered,  "  No,  I  will  not  be 
stripped  of  my  feathers." 

In  September  the  king  signed  a  warrant  for  the 
release  of  the  parliamentary  fine,  and,  to  prevent 
the  immediate  importunities  of  his  creditors, 
assigned  it  to  Mr.  Justice  Hutton,  Mr.  Justice 
Chamberlain,  Sir  Francis  Barnham,and  Sir  Tho 
mas  Crew,  whom  Bacon,  in  his  will,  directed  to 
apply  the  funds  for  the  payment  and  satisfaction 
of  his  debts  and  legacies,  having  a  charitable  care 
that  the  poorest  creditors  or  legatees  should  be 
first  satisfied. 

This  intended  kindness  of  the  king  the  Lord 
Keeper  Williams  misunderstood,  and  endeavour 
ed  to  impede  by  staying  the  pardon  at  the  seal, 
until  he  was  commanded  by  Buckingham  to  obey 
the  king's  order.  In  October  the  pardon  was 
sealed. 

He  had  scarcely  retired  to  Gorhambury,  in  the 
summer  of  1G21,  when  he  commenced  his  History 
of  Henry  the  Seventh. 

••"  During  the  progress  of  the  work  considerable 
expectation  of  his  history  was  excited  :  in  the 
composition  of  which  he  seems  to  have  laboured 
with  much  anxiety,  and  to  have  submitted  his 
manuscript  to  the  correction  of  various  classes  of 
society ;  to  the  king,  to  scholars,  and  to  the 
uninformed.  Upon  his  desiring  Sir  John  Dan- 
vers  to  give  his  opinion  of  the  work,  Sir  John 
said,  '"  Your  lordship  knows  that  I  am  no  scho 
lar.'  ''Tis  no  matter,' said  my  lord,  4I  know 
what  a  scholar  can  say  :  I  would  know  what  you 
can  say.'  Sir  John  read  it,  and  gave  his  opinion 
what  he  misliked,  which  my  lord  acknowledged 
to  be  true,  and  mended  it.  '  Why,'  said  he,  '  a 
scholar  would  never  have  told  me  this ;'  "  but, 
notwithstanding  this  labour  and  anxiety,  the  pub 
lic  expectation  was  not  realized. 

If,  however,  in  the  History  of  Henry  the 
Seventh,  it  is  vain  to  look  for  the  vigour  or 
beauty  with  which  the  Advancement  of  Learning 
abounds  :  if  the  intricacies  of  a  court  are  neither 
discovered  nor  illustrated  with  the  same  happi 
ness  as  the  intricacies  of  philosophy:  if,  in  a 
work  written  when  the  author  was  more  than 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


cm 


sixty  years  of  age,  and  if,  after  the  vexations 
and  labours  of  a  professional  and  political  life, 
the  varieties  and  sprightliness  of  youthful  ima 
gination  are  not  to  be  found,  yet  the  peculiar  pro 
perties  of  his  mind  may  easily  be  traced,  and  the 
stateliness  of  the  edifice  be  seen  in  the  magnifi 
cence  of  the  ruins. 

His  vigilance  in  recording  every  fact  tending  to 
alleviate  misery,  or  to  promote  happiness,  is 
noticed  by  Bishop  Sprat,  in  his  History  of  the 
Royal  Society,  where  he  says,  "I  shall  instance 
in  the  sweating  sickness.  The  medicine  for  it 
was  almost  infallible :  but,  before  that  could  be 
generally  published,  it  had  almost  dispeopled 
whole  towns.  If  the  same  disease  should  have 
returned,  it  might  have  been  again  as  destructive, 
had  not  the  Lord  Bacon  taken  care  to  set  down 
the  particular  course  of  physic  for  it  in  his  History 
of  Henry  the  Seventh,  and  so  put  it  beyond  the 
possibility  of  any  private  man's  invading  it." 

One  of  his  maxims  of  government  for  the  en 
largement  of  the  bounds  of  the  empire  is  to  be 
found  in  his  comment  upon  the  ordinance,  stated 
in  the  treatise  "  De  Augmentis."  "  Let  states  and 
kingdoms  that  aim  at  greatness  by  all  means  take 
heed  how  the  nobility,  and  grandees,  and  those 
which  we  call  gentlemen,  multiply  too  fast ;  for 
that  makes  the  common  subject  grow  to  be  a 
peasant  and  base  swain,  driven  out  of  heart,  and 
in  effect  nothing  else  but  the  nobleman's  bond 
slaves  and  labourers.  Even  as  you  may  see  in 
coppice-wood,  if  you  leave  your  studdles  too 
thick,  you  shall  never  have  clean  underwood,  but 
shrubs  and  bushes  :  so  in  a  country,  if  the  no 
bility  be  too  many,  the  commons  will  be  base  and 
heartless,  and  you  will  bring  it  to  that,  that  not 
the  hundredth  poll  will  be  fit  for  a  helmet,  espe 
cially  as  to  the  infantry,  which  is  the  nerve  of  an 
army ;  and  so  there  will  be  great  population,  and 
little  strength." 

His  love  of  familiar  illustration  is  to  be  found 
in  various  parts  of  the  history:  as  when  speaking 
of  the  commotion  by  the  Cornish  men,  on  behalf 
of  the  impostor  Perkin  Warbeck  :  "  The  king 
judged  it  his  best  and  surest  way  to  keep  his 
strength  together  in  the  seat  and  centre  of  his 
kingdom;  according  to  the  ancient  Indian  em 
blem,  in  such  a  swelling  season,  to  hold  the  hand 
upon  the  middle  of  the  bladder,  that  no  side 
might  rise." 

And  his  kind  nature  and  holy  feeling  appear  in 
his  account  of  the  conquest  of  Granada.  "  Some 
what  about  this  time  came  letters  from  Ferdinan- 
do  and  Isabella,  king  and  queen  of  Spain,  signi 
fying  the  final  conquest  of  Granada  from  the 
Moors  ;  but  the  king  would  not  by  any  means  in 
person  enter  the  city  until  he  had  first  aloof  seen 
the  cross  set  up  upon  the  great  tower  of  Granada, 
whereby  it  became  Christian  ground  ;  and,  before 
he  would  enter,  he  did  homage  to  God  above, 
pronouncing  by  a  herald  from  the  height  of 


that  tower,  that  he  did  acknowledge  to  have  re 
covered  that  kingdom  by  the  help  of  the  Al 
mighty;  nor  would  he  stir  from  his  camp  till  he 
had  seen  a  little  army  of  martyrs,  to  the  number 
of  seven  hundred  and  more  Christians,  that  had 
lived  in  bonds  and  servitude,  as  slaves  to  the 
Moors,  pass  before  his  eyes,  singing  a  psalm  for 
their  redemption." 

The  work  was  published  in  folio,  in  1622:  and 
is  dedicated  to  Prince  Charles.  Copies  were 
presented  to  the  king,  to  Buckingham,  to  the 
Queen  of  Bohemia,  and  to  the  lord  keeper. 

It  had  scarcely  been  published  when  he  felt 
and  expressed  anxiety  that  it  should  be  translated 
into  Latin,  "  as  these  modern  languages  will,  at 
onetime  or  other,  play  the  bankrupts  with  books; 
and,  since  I  have  lost  much  time  with  this  age,  I 
would  be  glad,  as  God  shall  give  me  leave,  to 
recover  it  with  posterity:"  a  wish  which  was 
more  than  gratified,  as  it  was  published,  not  only 
in  various  editions,  in  England,  but  was  soon 
translated  into  French  and  into  Latin. 

Such  was  the  nature  of  his  literary  occupations 
in  the  first  year  after  his  retirement,  during  which 
he  corresponded  with  different  learned  foreigners 
upon  his  works  ;  and  great  zeal  having  been 
shown  for  his  majesty's  service,  he  composed  a 
treatise  entitled,  "An  Advertisement  touching  a 
Holy  War,"  which  he  inscribed  to  the  Bishop  of 
Winchester. 

In  the  beginning  of  this  year,  (1623,)  a  vacancy 
occurred  in  the  Provostship  of  Eton  college, 
where,  in  earlier  years,  he  had  passed  some  days 
with  Sir  Henry  Savile,  pleasant  to  himself 
and  profitable  to  society.  His  love  of  knowledge 
again  manifested  itself. 

Having,  in  the  spirit  of  his  father,  unfortunately 
engaged,  in  his  youth,  in  active  life,  he  now,  in 
the  spirit  of  his  grandfather,  the  learned  and  con 
templative  Sir  Anthony  Cooke,  who  took  more 
pleasure  to  breed  up  statesmen  than  to  be  one, 
offered  himself  to  succeed  the  provost :  as  a  fit 
occupation  for  him  in  the  spent  hour-glass  of  his 
life,  and  a  retreat  near  London  to  a  place  of 
study. 

The  objection  which  would,  of  course,  be  made 
from  what  we,  in  our  importance,  look  down 
upon  as  beneath  his  dignity,  he  had  many  years 
before  anticipated  in  the  Advancement  of  Learn 
ing,  when  investigating  the  objections  to  learning 
from  the  errors  of  learned  men.  from  their  for 
tunes;  their  manners;  and  the  meanness  of  their 
employments:  upon  which  he  says,  "As  for 
meanness  of  employment,  that  which  is  most  tra 
duced  to  contempt  is,  that  the  government  of 
youth  is  commonly  allotted  to  them ;  which  age, 
because  it  is  the  age  of  least  authority,  it  is  trans 
ferred  to  the  disesteeming  of  those  employments 
j  wherein  youth  is  conversant,  and  which  are  con 
versant  about  youth.  But  how  unjust  this  tra- 
ducement  is,  if  you  will  reduce  things  from 


.IV 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


popularity  of  opinion  to  measure  of  reason,  may 
appear  in  that,  we  see  men  are  more  curious  what 
they  put  into  a  new  vessel  than  into  a  vessel  season 
ed  ;  and  what  mould  they  lay  about  a  young  plant, 
than  about  a  plant  corroborate  ;  so  as  the  weakest 
terms  and  times  of  all  things  used  to  have  the  best 
applications  and  helps  ;  and,  therefore,  the  ancient 
wisdom  of  the  best  times  did  always  make  a  just 
complaint,  that  states  were  too  busy  with  their 
laws,  and  too  negligent  in  point  of  education  : 
which  excellent  part  of  ancient  discipline  hath 
been  in  some  sort  revived  of  late  times,  by  the 
colleges  of  the  Jesuits  ;  of  whom,  although  in 
regard  of  their  superstition  I  may  say,  quo  meli- 
oresj  eo  dderiorcs ;  yet  in  regard  of  this,  and  some 
other  points  concerning  human  learning  and  moral 
matters,  I  may  say,  as  Agesilaus  said  to  his 
enemy,  Pharnabasus,  Tails  quum  sis,  utinamnoster 
esses.''1 

His  application  was  not  successful ;  the  king 
answered  that  it  had  been  designed  for  Sir  Wil 
liam  Beecher,  but  that  there  was  some  hope  that, 
by  satisfying  him  elsewhere,  his  majesty  might 
be  able  to  comply  with  the  request.  Sir  William 
was  satisfied  by  the  promise  of  £2500,  but  the 
provostship  was  given  to  Sir  Henry  Wotton, 
"  who  had  for  many  years,  like  Sisyphus,  rolled 
the  restless  stone  of  a  state  employment;  knowing 
experimentally  that  the  great  blessing  of  sweet 
Content  was  not  to  be  found  in  multitudes  of  men 
or  business,"  and  that  a  college  was  the  fittest 
place  to  nourish  holy  thoughts,  and  to  afford  rest 
both  to  his  body  and  mind,  which  he  much  re 
quired  from  his  age,  being  now  almost  threescore 
years,  and  from  his  urgent  pecuniary  wants;  for 
he  had  always  been  as  careless  of  money  as 
ihough  our  Saviour's  words,  '  Care  not  for  to 
morrow,'  were  to  be  literally  understood."  He, 
therefore,  upon  condition  of  releasing  a  grant, 
which  he  possessed,  of  the  mastership  of  the  rolls, 
was  appointed  provost. 

At  this  disappointment  Bacon  could  not  be 
much  affected.  One  day,  as  he  was  dictating  to 
Dr.  Rawley  some  of  the  experiments  in  his  Sylva, 
he  had  sent  a  friend  to  court,  to  receive  for  him 
a  final  answer,  touching  the  effect  of  a  grant 
'vhich  had  been  made  him  by  King  James.  He 


had  hitherto  only  hope  of  it,  and  hope  deferred  ; 
and  he  was  desirous  to  know  the  event  of  the 
matter,  and  to  be  freed,  one  way  or  other,  from 
the  suspense  of  his  thoughts.  His  friend  return 
ing,  told  him  plainly  that  he  must  thenceforth 
despair  of  that  grant,  how  much  soever  his  for 
tunes  needed  it.  "  Be  it  so,"  said  his  lordship  ; 
and  then  he  dismissed  his  friend  very  cheerfully, 
with  thankful  acknowledgments  of  his  service. 
His  friend  being  gone,  he  came  straightway  to 
Dr.  Rawley,  and  said  thus  to  him,  "  Well,  sir, 
yon  business  won't  go  on,  let  us  go  on  with  this, 
for  this  is  in  our  power  :"  and  then  he  dictated  to 
him  afresh,  for  some  hours,  without  the  least  he 
sitancy  of  speech,  or  discernible  interruption  of 
thought. 

He  proceeded  with  his  literary  labours,  and, 
during  this  year,  published  in  Latin  his  celebrated 
treatise,  "  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum,"  and  his 
important  "  Historia  Vitse  et  Mortis." 

Between  the  year  1G05,  when  the  Advancement 
was  published,  and  the  year  1623,  he  made  great 
progress  in  the  completion  of  the  work,  which, 
having  divided  into  nine  books,  and  subdivided 
each  book  into  chapters,  he  caused  to  be  translated 
into  Latin  by  Mr.  Herbert,  and  some  other 
friends,  and  published  in  Latin  in  1623,  in  a 
volume  entitled  De  Dignitate  et  Augmentis  Sci 
entiarum. 

This  treatise  De  Augmentis  is  an  improvement, 
by  expunging,  enlarging,  and  arranging,  of  the 
Advancement  of  Learning. 

In  the  first  part  there  are  scarcely  any  altera 
tions,  except  the  omission  of  his  beautiful  praise 
of  Elizabeth,  not,  perhaps,  very  acceptable  to  her 
successor.  The  material  alterations  are  in  the 
analysis  of  Natural  History  and  Natural  Philoso 
phy  ;  in  his  expansion  of  a  small  portion  of  the 
science  of  "Justitia  Universalis  ;"  in  that  part  of 
human  philosophy  under  the  head  of  Government, 
which  relates  to  man  as  a  member  of  society;  and 
in  his  arrangement  of  the  important  subject  of 
revealed  religion. 

In  the  annexed  outline  of  the  work  the  parts 
marked  in  italics  exhibit  the  material  altera 
tions  : 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


cv 


^ 

r^ 

>*n 

J° 

to 

j-1 

O 

1*3* 

fc 

O 

cr 

s; 

is 

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8 

o* 

CD     S- 

P 

r^^ 

s 

Oq^  °" 

P 

o' 

A. 

ffs 

w 

VOL.  I— 


CVl 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


Of  this  extraordinary  work   various  editions 
and  translations  have  been  since  published.1 

i  Different  editions  of  the  treatise  De  Augmentis. 

1.  The  first  edition  is  thus  described  by  Tenison  :  "The 
fairest  and  most  correct  edition  of  this  book  in  Latin  is  that 
in  folio,  printed  at  London,  1623;  and  whoever  would  un 
derstand  the  Lord  Bacon's  cypher,  let  him  consult  that  accu 
rate  edition  :  for,  in  some  other  editions  which  I  have  perused, 
the  form  of  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  in  which  much  of  the 
mystery  consisteth,  is  not  observed,  but  the  roman  and  italic 
shapes  of  them  are  confounded."  The  following  is  a  copy  of 
the  title  page  :   "  Francisci  Baconi  Baronis  de  Vervlanfio, 
Vice-Cornitis    Sancti    Albani,    de   Dignitate  et    Augmentis 
Scientiarum.     Libri  ix.     Ad  Regem  svvm.    Londini,  in  OfFi- 
cina  Joannis  Haviland,  MDCXXHI."  There  is  a  copy  at  Cam 
bridge  and  in  the  British  Museum,  and  I  have  a  copy. 

2.  The   work  had  scarcely  appeared  in  England,  when  an 
edition  was  published  in  France:  it  appeared  in  1621.  The  fol 
lowing  is  a  copy  of  the  title  page  :  Francisci  Baronis  de  Ve- 
rvlamio  Vicecomitis  Sancti  Albani,  de  Dignitate  et  Augmentis 
Scienciarurn.    Libri  ix.     Ad  Regem  svvm.     luxta  exemplar 
Londini  impressum.     Parisiis,  typis  Petri  Metayer,  typogra- 
phi  Regij.    M.DC  xxiv."    I  have  a  copy. 

3.  In  1638  an  edition  was  published  by  Dr.  Rawley,  in  a 
folio  entitled,  "  Francisci  Baconi  Baronis  de  Vervlamio  Vice- 
Oomitis  Sancti  Albani  tractatus  de  Dignitate  et  Augmentis 
Scientiarum  qui  est  Instaurationis  magne  pars  prima.     Ad 
regem  svvm.    Londini,  typis  loll.  Haviland.     Prostant   ad 
insignia  Regia  in  Cccmeterio  D.  Pauli,  apud  locosam  Norton 
et  Richardum  Whitakerum.  1638." 

4.  In  the  year  1615  an  edition  in  12mo.  was  published  in 
Holland.     The  following  is  the  title  page  :  Francisci  Bacon  is 
de   Vernlamio,   Vice-Comitis  .Sancti  Albani  de  Dignitatn  et 
Augmentis  Scientiarum.     Libri  ix.     Ad  Regem  suuin.     Edi- 
tio  nova,  cum  Indice   rerum   et  verborum    locupletissimo. 
Lugd.    Batav.    apud  Franciscum    Moyardum  et    Adrianum 
Wijngaerde.  Anno  1615." — Tho  title  page  of  this  Dutch  edi 
tion  is  adorned  with  an  engraving,  not  undeserving  the  atten 
tion  of  our  students  in  England  :  it  is  of  a  youth  aspiring  to 
the  attainment  of  knowledge. 

5.  In  1652  another  edition  in  12mo.  was  published  in  Hol 
land  :  the  engraving  prefixed  to  the  edition  of  1615  is  also  pre 
fixed  to  this  edition;  but  the  descriptive  title  is  omitted,  and 
the  address  to  the   reader  is  at  the  back  of  the  engraving. 
The  following  is  the  title  page  :  (i  Fr.  Baconis  de  Vervlam 
AngliiE   Cancellarii  de   Avgmentis   Scientiarvm.      Lib.    ix. 
Lvgd.  Batavorvm,  ex  officina  Adrian!  Wijngaerden.     Anno 
1652." 

6.  In  1662 another  edition  was  published  in  12mo.  in  Holland. 
The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  title  page:  "Fr.  Baconis  de 
Vervlam    Anglice    Cancellarii    de    Avgmentis   Scientiarum. 
Lib.   ix.      Amstelnedami,    sumptibus    Joannis    Ravestcinij. 
1662."  At  the  back  of  which,  as  in  the  edition  of  1652,  there 
is  the  address  to  the  reader :  "Amice  Lector.     Hoc  opus  de 
Augments  Scientiarum,  novo  ejusdem  autoris  organosi  prae- 
mittatui,  non  modo  necessarium  ei  lucem  praebet ;  sed   et 
partitiones  continet  Scientiarum  qua?  primam  Instaurationis 
inagnfe  partem  constituunt  quas  id  circo  anctor  in  ipsoorgani 
limine  retractare  noluit.    H;ec  te  scire  volebam." 

7.  In  1765  an  edition  in  Svo.  was  published  at  Venice.    The 
following  is  the  title  pase  :  "Francisci  Baronis  de  Verulamio, 
Anglioe  Cancellarii  de  Dignitate  et  Augmentis  Scientiarum. 
Pars  prima.    Lugani,  MDCCLXIII.     Expensis  Gasparis  Girar- 
di,  Bibliopolre  Veneti."     I  have  a  copy. 

8.  In  1779  an  edition  was  published  on  the  continent.     The 
following  is  the  title  page  :  "  Francisci  Baconi  Baronis  de 
Verulamio  de  Dignitate  et  Augmentis  Scientiarum.    Tomus 
I.     Wirceburgi,  apud  Jo.  Jac.  Stahel.     1779." 

9.  In  1829  another  edition  was  published  on  the  continent, 
in  two  vols.,  of  which  the  following  is  the  title  page  :  "Fran 
cisci  Baconis  de  Dignitate  et  Augmentis  Scientiarum.     Libri 
ix.     Ad  fidem  optimarum  editionum  edidit  vitamque  auctoris 
adjecit  Philippus   Mayer,   Philosophic   Doctor  et  Gymnasii 
Norimbergensis  Collega.     Norimbergae,  cumptibus   Riegelii 
et  Wiessneri.    MDCCCXXIX." 

Such  are  the  different  editions  of  which  I  have  any  know 
ledge.  I  understand  that  editions  have  been  published  in 
Germany,  for  which  I  have  sent,  and  hope  to  be  able  to  pro 
cure. 


Copies  were  presented  to  the  king1,  to  whom  It 
was  dedicated,  the  Prince,  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
is  it  not  rather  extraordinary  that  not  an  edition  has  been 
published  in  either  of  the  universities  of  England 

Translations. 

In  the  year  1610  a  translation  into  English  was  published  at 
Oxford,  with  a  portrait  of  the  philosopher  writing  his  Instaura- 
tio,  and  the  following  inscriptions  prefixed  and  subjoined: 
"  Tertius  a  Platone  philosophise  princeps.  Quod  feliciter  vor- 
tat  reip.  literarite  V.  C.  Fran,  de  Verulamio  philosoph.  liber- 
tates  assertor  avdax,  scientiaru'  reparator  felix  run  rid!  men- 
tisq.  niagnus  arbiter  inclytis  niax.  terrarumorbis  Acad.  Oxon. 
Contab.  Q.  hanc  suarn  Instavr.  voto  suscepto  vivus  decer- 
nebat  obiit  v.  non.  April,  n.  D.  IV.  Caroli  I.  Pp.  Ausr.  CID  100 
x xvi"— Appended  is  another  engraving  of  two  spheres, 
the  one  of  the  visible,  the  other  of  the  intellectual  world,  and 
supported  by  two  fixed  pillar.-,  the  one  Oxford  and  the  other 
Cambridge,  with  a  vessel  sailing  between  them,  with  the 
following  inscription  :  "Of  the  Advancement  and  Proficience 
of  Learning,  or  the  Partitions  of  Sciences,  ix  Bookes. 
Written  in  Latin  by  the  most  illustrious  and  famous  Lord 
Francis  Bacon,  Baron  of  Veru'ani,  Vicont  St.  Alban,  Coun- 
silour  of  Estate  and  Lord  Chancellor  of  England.  Interpreted 
by  Gilbert  Wats.  Multi  pertransibunt  et  augebitur  scientia. 
Oxford,  printed  by  Leon.  Lichfield,  printer  to  the  University 
for  Rob.  Young,  and  Ed.  Forrest,  ciciac  XL." 

In  the  year  1674  another  edition  of  the  translation  by  Wat? 
was  published  in  London,  but  instead  of  the  engravings 
which  were  prefixed  to  the  edition  of  1610,  there  is  prefixed 
to  the  annexed  title  page  only  a  portrait  of  Lord  Bacon.  The 
following  is  the  title  page  :  ''  Of  tin;  Advancement  and  Profi 
cience  of  Learning:  or  the  Partitions  of  Sciences.  Nine 
Books.  Written  in  Latin  by  the  most  eminent,  illustrious 
and  famous  Lord  Francis  Bacon,  Baron  of  Verulam,  Viscount 
St.  Alban,  Counsellor  of  Estate,  and  Lord  Chancellor  of  Eng 
land.  Interpreted  by  Gilbert  Wats.  London,  printed  for 
Thomas  Williams,  at  the  Gohk-n  Ball  ir,  Osier  lane,  1074." 

Of  these  translations  Archbishop  Tt-nirj'jn  thus  speaks  in 
the  Baconiana  :  "  Tin  whole  of  this  book  .vas  rendered  into 
English  by  Dr.  Gilbert  Wats,  of  Oxford,  and  the  translation 
has  been  well  received  by  many  :  but  sonic  there  were,  who 
wished  that  a  translation  had  been  sot  firth,  in  which  the 
genius  and  spirit  of  the  Lord  Bacon  had  more  appeared.  And 
I  have  seen  a  letter  written  by  certain  gentlemen  to  Dr.  Raw- 
ley,  wherein  they  thus  importune  him  for  a  more  accurate 
version,  by  his  own  hand.  'It  is  our  humble  suit  to  you, 
and  we  do  earnestly  solicit  you  to  give  yourself  the  trouble  to 
correct  the  too  much  defective  translation  of  De  Augmentis 
Scientiarum,  which  Dr.  Wats  hath  set  forth.  It  is  a  thou 
sand  pities  that  so  worthy  a  piece  should  lose  its  grace  and 
credit  by  an  ill  expositor  ;  since  those  persons  who  read  that 
translation,  taking  it  for  genuine,  and  upon  that  presumption 
not  regarding  the  Latin  edition,  are  thereby  robbed  of  that 
benefit  which,  if  you  would  please  to  undertake  the  business, 
they  might  receive.  This  tendeth  to  the  dishonour  of  that 
noble  lord,  and  the  Advancement  of  Learning.'  " 

Of  the  correctness  or  incorrectness  of  these  observations, 
some  estimate  may  be  formed  from  the  following  specimens  ; 

The  Instauratio  Magna  thus  begins  :  "Franciscus  de  Vern 
lamio  sic  cogitavit." — Translation  by  Wats  ;  "  Francis  Lord 
Verulam  consulted  thus." 

Another  specimen:  Advancement  of  Learning. — "We  see  in 
all  other  pleasures  there  is  satiety,  and  after  they  be  used  their 
verdure  departeth  ;  which  showeth  well  they  be  but  deceits 
of  pleasure,  and  not  pleasures,  and  that  it  was  the  novelty 
which  pleased,  and  not  the  quality  ;  and  therefore  we  see 
that  voluptuous  men  turn  friars,  and  ambitious  men  turn  me 
lancholy ;  but  of  knowledge  there  is  no  satiety,  but  satisfac 
tion  and  appetite  are  perpetually  interchangeable,  and  there 
fore  appeareth  to  be  good  in  itself  simply,  without  fallacy  or 
accident." 

Wats's  Translation. — "In  all  other  pleasures  there  is  a 
finite  variety,  and  after  they  grow  a  little  stale,  their  flower 
and  verdure  fades  and  departs  ;  whereby  we  are  instructed 
that  they  were  not  indeed  pure  and  sincere  pleasures,  but 
shadows  and  deceits  of  pleasures,  and  that  it  was  the  novelty 
which  pleased,  and  not  the  quality  ;  wherefore  voluptuous 
men  often  turn  friars,  and  the  declining  age  of  ambitious 


LIFE  OF  BACON, 


cvn 


ham,  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  the  University 
of  Cambridge,  and  the  University  of  Oxford. — 
The  present  was  gratefully  acknowledged  by  the 
different  patrons  to  whom  it  was  presented,  and 
by  all  the  learning  of  England. 

Fifty  years  after  its  publication  it  was  included 
at  Rome  in  the  list  «  Librorum  Prohibitorum," 
in  which  list  it  is  now  included  in  Spain. 

The  vanity  of  these  attempts  to  resist  the  pro 
gress  of  knowledge  might,  it  should  seem,  by 
this  time  be  understood  even  at  the  Vatican. 

How  beautifully  are  the  consequences  of  this 
intolerance  thus  stated  by  Fuller  :  "Hitherto  the 
corpse  of  John  "vVicklifFe  had  quietly  slept  in  his 
grave  about  forty-one  years  after  his-  death,  till 

princes  is  commonly  more  sad  and  besieged  with  melan 
choly  ;  but  of  knowledge  there  is  no  satiety,  but  vicissitude, 
perpetually  and  interchangeably  returning  of  fruition  and  ap 
petite  ;  so  that  the  good  of  this  delight  must  needs  be  simpler, 
without  accident  or  fallacy." 

In  the  year  1632  a  translation  into  French  was  published  in 
Paris.  The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  title  page:  "Neve 
Livres  de  la  Dignite  et  de  1' Accroissement  des  Sciences,  com- 
posez  par  Francois  Bacon,  Baron  de  Verulam  et  Vicomte  de 
Saint  Aubain,  et  traduits  de  Latin  en  Francois  par  le  Sieur 
de  Golefer,  Conseiller  et  Historiographe  du  Roy.  A  Paris, 
chez  Jnques  Dugast,  rue  Sainct  Jean  de  Beauvais,a  1'Olivier 
de  Robert  Estienne  et  en  sa  boutique  au  bas  de  la  rue  de  la 
Harpe.  M.DC.XXXII.  avec  privilege  du  Roy." — Of  this  edition 
Archbishop  Tenison  says,  "This  work  hath  been  also  trans 
lated  into  French,  upon  the  motion  of  the  Marquis  Fiat ;  but 
in  it  there  are  many  things  wholly  omitted,  many  things  per 
fectly  mistaken,  and  some  things,  especially  such  as  relate  to 
religion,  wilfully  perverted.  Insomuch  that,  in  one  place,  he 
makes  his  lordship  to  magnify  the  Legend:  a  book  sure  of 
little  credit  with  him,  when  he  thus  began  one  of  his  es 
says,  '  I  had  rather  believe  all  the  fables  in  the  Legend,  and 
the  Talmud,  and  the  Alcoran,  than  that  this  universal  frame 
is  without  a  mind.'  "  I  have  a  copy  of  this  edition. 

A  letter  of  the  Lord  Bacon's,  in  French,  to  the  Marquess  Fiat, 
relating  to  his  Essays. 

Monsieur  1'  Ambassadeur  mon  File, — Voyant  que  vostre 
excellence  faict  et  trait  manages,  non  seulement  entre  les 
princes  d'Angletere  et  de  France,  mais  aussi  entre  les  lan- 
gues  (puis  que  faictes  traduire  non  liure  do  PAdvancement 
des  Sciences  en  Francois)  i'  ai  bien  voulu  vous  envoyer,  &c. 

There  is  a  translation  into  French  in  the  edition  of  Lord 
Bacon's  works,  published  in  the  eighth  year  of  the  French 
Republic.  The  following  is  the  title  page  of  this  edition  : 
•'QGuvres  de  Francois  Bacon,  Chancelier  d'Angletaire ;  tra- 
duites  par  Ant.  La  Salle  ;  avec  des  notes  critiques,  histori- 
ques  et  litteraires.  Tome  premier.  A  Dijon,  de  1'Impri- 
merie  de  L.  N.  Frantin,  an  8  de  la  Republique  FranQaise." 


1623  .  . 
1621  .  . 
1633  .  . 
1645  .  . 
1652  .  . 
1662  .  . 
1765  .  . 
1779  .  . 
1829  .  . 


DE  AUGMENTIS— Latin. 

Folio  .  .  .  Haviland  ....  London  ....  1st  edit. 

4to Mettayer  ....  Paris 2d  edit. 

Folio  .  .  .  Haviland  ....  London  ....  3d  edit. 

12mo  .  .  .  Moirardum  .  .  Dutch 4lh  edit. 

12mo  .  .  .  Wynyard  .  .  .  Dutch 5th  edit. 

12mo  .  .  .  Ravestein  .  .  .  Dutch  -  ....  6th  edit. 

.  8vo  ....  Gerard Venice  ....  7th  edit. 

.  8vo  ....  Stahel Wirceburgi  .  8th.  2  vols. 

.  8vo  ....  Riegelii Nuremberg  .  9th.  2  vols. 


Translations. 


English  .  G.  Wats  .  . 
English  .  G.  Wats  .  . 
,  French  .  Dugast  .  . 


1640 

1674 

1632  .  .  . 
8th  year 
Rep. . . .  French  . .  Frantin  . 


Oxford Folio. 

London  .  .  .  .Folio. 
Paris 4to. 

Dijon 8vo. 


his  body  was  reduced  to  bones,  and  his  bones  al 
most  to  dust.  For  though  the  earth  in  the  chan 
cel  of  Lutterworth,  in  Leicestershire,  where  he 
was  interred,  hath  not  so  quick  a  digestion  with 
the  earth  of  Aceldama,  to  consume  flesh  in  twen 
ty-four  hours,  yet  such  the  appetite  thereof,  and 
all  other  English  graves,  to  leave  small  rever 
sions  of  a  body  after  so  many  years.  But  now 
such  the  spleen  of  the  council  of  Constance,  as 
they  not  only  cursed  his  memory  as  dying  an  ob 
stinate  heretic,  but  ordered  that  his  bones  (with 
this  charitable  caution, — if  it  may  be  discerned 
from  the  bodies  of  other  faithful  people)  be  taken 
out  of  the  ground,  and  thrown  far  off  from  any 
Christian  burial.  In  obedience  hereunto,  Richard 
Fleming,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  Diocesan  of  Lutter 
worth,  sent  his  officers,  vultures  with  a  quick  sight 
scent  at  a  dead  carcass,  to  ungrave  him.  Accord 
ingly  to  Lutterworth  they  come;  summer,  com 
missary,  official,  chancellor,  proctors,  doctors, 
and  their  servants,  so  that  the  remnant  of  the 
body  would  not  hold  out  a  bone  amongst  so  many 
hands,  take  what  was  left  out  of  the  grave,  and 
burnt  them  to  ashes,  and  cast  them  into  Swift,  a 
neighbouring  brook  running  hard  by.  Thus 
this  brook  hath  conveyed  his  ashes  into  Avon, 
Avon  into  Severn,  Severn  into  the  narrow 
seas,  they  into  the  main  ocean ;  and  thus  the 
ashes  of  Wicklifie  are  the  emblem  of  his 
doctrine,  which  now  is  dispersed  all  the  world 
over." 

If  Bacon  had  completed  his  intended  work 
upon  "  Sympathy  and  Antipathy,"  the  constant 
antipathy  of  ignorance  to  intellect,  originating 
sometimes  in  the  painful  feeling  of  inferiority, 
sometimes  in  the  fear  of  worldly  injury,  but 
always  in  the  influence  of  some  passion  more 
powerful  than  the  love  of  truth,  would  not  have 
escaped  his  notice. 

In  this  year  he  also  published  his  History  cf 
Life  and  Death,  which,  of  all  his  works,  is  one  of 
the  most  extraordinary.,  both  for  the  extent  of  his 
views,  and  the  minute  accuracy  with  which  each 
part  is  investigated.  It  is  addressed,  not,  to 
use  his  own  expression,  "to  the  Adonises  of  lite 
rature,  but  to  Hercules's  followers  ;  that  is,  the 
more  severe  and  laborious  inquirers  into  truth." 

Upon  his  entrance,  in  the  Advancement  of 
Learning,  on  the  science  of  human  nature,  he 
says,  "  The  knowledge  of  man,  although  only  a 
portion  of  knowledge  in  the  continent  of  nature, 
is  to  man  the  end  of  all  knowledge  :"  and,  in 
furtherance  of  this  opinion,  he  explains  that  the 
object  of  education  ought  to  be  knowledge  and 
improvement  of  the  body  and  the  mind. 

Of  the  importance  of  knowledge  of  the  body, 
that,  "while  sojourning  in  this  wilderness,  and 
travelling  to  the  land  of  promise,  our  vestments* 
should  be  preserved,"  he  is  incessant  in  his  ob 
servations.  He  divides  the  subject  into 


CV111 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


f  1.  The  preservation  of  Health. 
"1.  Health.    <  2.  The  cure  of  Diseases. 

2.  Strength.  (_3.  The  prolongation  of  Life. 

3.  Beauty. 

4.  Pleasure. 

His  History  of  Life  and  Death  may  be  regarded 
as  a  treatise  upon  the  art  of  Preservation  of 
Health,  and  Prolongation  of  Life. 

As  a  foundation  of  his  investigations  he  con 
siders, 

1st.  The  causes  of  the  consumption  of  the 

body. 
2dly.  The  modes  of  reparation. 

Of  consumption  he  says  there  are  two  causes  :  the 
depredation  of  vital  spirit  and  the  depredation  of 
ambient  air ;  and  if  the  action  of  either  of  these 
agents  can  be  destroyed,  the  decomposition  is 
more  or  less  retarded,  as  in  bodies  enclosed  in 
wax  or  coffins,  where  the  action  of  the  external 
air  is  excluded  :  and  when  the  action  of  both  these 
causes  can  be  prevented,  the  body  defies  decom 
position,  as  in  bricks  and  burnt  bodies,  where  the 
vital  air  is  expelled  by  exposure  of  the  clay  to  the 
ambient  air,  and  afterwards  by  fire;  or  as  a  fly  in 
amber,  more  beautifully  entombed  than  an  Egyp 
tian  monarch. 

In  making  the  agents  less  predatory,  and  the 
patients  less  depredable,  the  science  of  the  re 
tardation  of  consumption  consequently  consists. 
He  proceeds,  therefore,  with  his  usual  accuracy 
to  consider  how  these  objects  are  to  be  attained 
and,  having  considered  them,  he  proceeds  to  the 
doctrine  of  reparation,  both  of  the  whole  frame  and 
the  decayed  parts. 

His  History  of  Life  and  Death  contains  hi 
favourite  doctrine  of  vital  spirit,  or  excitability 
or  life,  which  he  notices  in  various  parts  of  hi 
works. 

In  this  place  more  cannot  be  attempted  than 
as  a  specimen  of  the  whole  of  this  importan 
subject,  to  explain  one  or  two  of  the  positions. 

The  foundation  position  is,  that  "All  tangibl 
bodies  contain  a  spirit  enveloped  with  the  grosse 
body.  There  is  no  known  body,  in  the  uppe 
parts  of  the  earth,  without  its  spirit,  whether 
be  generated  by  the  attenuating  and  concoctin 
power  of  the  celestial  warmth,  or  otherwise ;  fo 
the  pores  of  tangible  bodies  are  not  a  vacuum,  bu 
either  contain  air,  or  the  peculiar  spirit  of  the  sub 
stance  ;  and  this  not  a  vis,  an  energy,  or  a  fiction 
but  a  real,  subtile,  and  invisible,  and,  therefore 
neglected  body,  circumscribed  by  place  and  d 
inension." 

This  doctrine  is  thus  stated  in  the  Excursion 

To  every  form  of  being  is  assigned 
An  active  principle,  howe'er  removed 
From  sense  and  observation  ;  it  subsists 
In  all  things,  in  all  natures,  in  the  stars 
Of  azure  heaven,  the  unenduring  clouds, 


In  flower  and  tree,  and  every  pebbly  stone 
That  paves  the  brooks,  the  stationary  rocks, 
The  moving  waters  and  the  invisible  air. 
Whate'er  exists  hath  properties  that  spread 
Beyond  itself,  communicating  good, 
A  simple  blessing  or  with  evil  mixed  : 
Spirit  that  knows  no  insulated  spot, 
No  chasm,  no  solitude  :  from  link  to  link 
It  circulates,  the  soul  of  all  the  worlds." 

Excursion,  book 


As  another  specimen,  the  mode  of  explaining 
le  condensation  of  spirit  by  /Light  may  be  se- 
ected. 

The  spirit,  he  says,  is  condensed  by  flight, — 
old, — appeasing,  and  quelling.  The  condensu- 
on  by  flight  is  when  there  is  an  antipathy  be- 
ween  the  spirit  and  the  body  upon  which  it  acts  ; 
s,  in  opium,  which  is  so  exceedingly  powerful  in 
ondensing  the  spirit,  that  a  grain  will  tranqnil- 
ize  the  nerves,  and  by  a  few  grains  they  may  be 
compressed  as  to  be  irrecoverable.  The  touch- 
d  spirit  may  retreat  into  its  shell  for  a  time  or  for- 
ver :  or  it  may,  when  fainting,be  recalled,  by  the 
pplication  of  a  stimulant,  as  surprise  from  a 
udden  impulse;  a  blow,  or  a  glass  of  water 
hrown  on  the  face  ;  or  the  prick  of  a  pin,  or  the 
action  of  mind  on  mind. 

"I  am  not  sick,  if  Brutus  have  in  hand 
Any  exploit  worthy  the  name  of  honour." 

As  another  specimen,  his  sentiments  upon 
death,  the  decomposition  of  compounds,  may  be 
selected . 

In  his  doctrine  of  motion,  he  says,  "The  poli 
tical  motion  is  that  by  which  the  parts  of  the  body 
are  restrained,  from  their  own  immediate  appetites 
or  tendencies,  to  unite  in  such  a  state  as  may  pre 
serve  the  existence  of  the  whole  body.  Thus, 
the  spirit,  which  exists  in  all  living  bodies,  keeps 
all  the  parts  in  due  subjection;  when  it  escapes, 
the  body  decomposes,  or  the  similar  parts  unite- 
as  metals  rust,  fluids  turn  sour  ;  and,  in  animals, 
when  the  spirit  which  held  the  parts  together  es 
capes,  all  things  are  dissolved,  and  return  to  their 
own  natures  or  principles  :  the  oily  parts  to  them 
selves,  the  aqueous  to  themselves,  &c.,  upon 
which  necessarily  ensues  that  odour,  that  unctuo- 
sity,  that  confusion  of  parts,  observable  in  putre 
faction/'  So  true  is  it,  that  in  nature  all  is 
beauty  ;  that,  notwithstanding  our  partial  views 
and  distressing  associations,  the  forms  of  death, 
misshapen  as  we  suppose  them,  are  but  the  ten 
dencies  to  union  in  similar  natures. 

The  knowledge  of  this  science  Bacon  considers 
of  the  utmost  importance  to  our  well-being : — that 
the  action  of  the  spirit  is  the  cause  of  consumption 
and  dissolution; — is  the  agent  which  produces  all 
bodily  and  mental  effects; — influences  the  will  in 
the  production  of  all  animal  motions,  as  in  the 
whale  and  the  elephant;— and  is  the  cause  of  all 
our  cheerfulness  or  melancholy  : — that  the  perfec 
tion  of  our  being  consists  in  the  proper  portion 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


cix 


of  this  spirit  properly  animated,  or  the  proper  por 
tion  of  excitability  properly  excited; — that  its 
presence  is  life,  its  absence  death. 

This  subject,  deemed  of  such  importance  by 
Bacon,  has  been  much  neglected,  and  occasionally 
been  supposed  to  be  a  mere  creature  of  the  imagi 
nation. 

Although  the  History  of  Life  and  Death  is 
apparently  a  separate  tract,  it  is  the  last  portion 
of  the  third  of  the  six  books  into  which  the  third 
part  of  the  Installation  is  divided,  which  are  the 
histories  of 

1st.  The   Winds. 

3d.  Density  and  Rarity. 

3d.  Heavy  and  Light. 

4th.  Sympathy  and  Antipathy. 

5th.  Sulphur,  Mercury,  and  Salt. 

Gth.  Life  and  Death. 

His  reason  for  the  publication  of  this  tract,  he 
thus  states  :  "  Although  I  had  ranked  the  History 
of  Life  and  Death  as  the  last  among  my  six 
monthly  designations ;  yet  I  have  thought  fit,  in 
respect  of  the  prime  use  thereof,  in  which  the 
least  loss  of  time  ought  to  be  esteemed  precious, 
to  invert  that  order." 

The  History,  which  was  published  in  Latin,  is 
inscribed  "To  the  present  age  and  posterity,  in 
the  hope  and  wish  that  it  may  conduce  to  a  com 
mon  good,  and  that  the  nobler  sort  of  physicians 
will  advance  their  thoughts,  and  not  employ  their 
times  wholly  in  the  sordidness  of  cures,  neither 
be  honoured  for  necessity  only,  but  that  they  will 
become  coadjutors  and  instruments  of  the  divine 
omnipotence  and  clemency  in  prolonging  and 
renewing  the  life  of  man,  by  safe,  and  convenient, 
and  civil  ways,  though  hitherto  unassayed." 

This  was  the  last  of  his  philosophical  publica 
tions  during  his  life;  but  they  were  only  a  small 
portion  of  his  labours,  which  are  thus  recorded  by 
Dr.  Rawley: — "The  last  five  years  of  his  life, 
being  withdrawn  from  civil  affairs  and  from  an 
active  life,  he  employed  wholly  in  contemplation 
and  studies:  a  thing  whereof  his  lordship  would 
often  speak  during  his  active  life,  as  if  he  affected 
to  die  in  the  shadow,  and  not  in  the  light.  Dur 
ing  this  time  he  composed  the  greatest  part  of  his 
books  and  writings,  both  in  English  and  Latin, 
which  I  will  enumerate,  as  near  as  I  can,  in  the 
just  order  wherein  they  were  written. 

The  History  of  the  Reign  of  King  Henry  the 

Seventh. 

Abecedarium  Naturae ;  or  a  Metaphysical  Piece. 
Historia  Ventorum. 
Historia  Vitas  et  Mortis. 
Historia  Densi,  et  Rari. 
Historia  Gravis  et  Levis. 
A  discourse  of  a  war  with  Spain. 
A  dialogue  touching  a  Holy  War. 
The  fable  of  the  New  Atlantis. 


A  preface  to  a  Digest  of  the  Laws  of  England. 

The  beginning  of  the  History  of  the  Reign  of 
King  Henry  the  Eighth. 

De  Augmentis  Scientiarum;  or  the  Advance 
ment  of  Learning  :  put  into  Latin,  with  seve 
ral  enrichments  and  enlargements. 

Counsels,  civil  and  moral;  or  his  book  of 
Essays,  likewise  enriched  and  enlarged. 

The  conversion  of  certain  Psalms  into  English 
verse. 

The  translation  into  Latin  of  the  History  of 
King  Henry  the  Seventh ;  of  the  Counsels, 
civil  and  moral;  of  the  dialogue  of  the  Holy 
W'ar;  of  the  fable  of  the  New  Atlantis;  for 
the  benefit  of  other  nations. 

His  revising  of  his  book  De  Sapientia  Veterum. 

Inquisitio  de  Magnete. 

Topica  Inquisitionis;  de  Luce,  et  Lumine. 

Lastly,  Sylva  Sylvarum ;  or  the  Natural  His 
tory. 

"  He  also  designed,  upon  the  motion  and  invi 
tation  of  his  late  majesty,  to  have  written  the 
Reign  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth ;  but  that  work 
perished  in  the  designation  merely,  God  not  lend 
ing  him  life  to  proceed  further  upon  it  than  only 
in  one  morning's  work :  whereof  there  is  extant 
an  Ex  Ungue  Leonem." 

Such  were  his  works  during  the  short  period, 
when,  between  sixty  and  seventy  years  of  age,  he, 
fortunately  for  himself  and  society,  was  thrown 
from  active  into  contemplative  life ;  into  that 
philosophical  seclusion,  where  he  might  turn  from 
calumny,  from  the  slanders  of  his  enemies,  to  the 
|  admiration  of  all  civilized  Europe;  from  political 
rancour  and  threats  of  assassination,  to  the  peaceful 
safety  of  sequestered  life;  from  the  hollow  com 
pacts  which  politicians  call  union,  formed  by 
expediency  and  dissolved  at  the  first  touch  of  inte 
rest,  to  the  enduring  joys  of  intellectual  and  virtu 
ous  friendship,  and  the  consolations  of  piety. 

These  blessings  he  now  enjoyed.  Eminent 
foreigners  crossed  the  seas  on  purpose  to  see  and 
discourse  with  him. 

Gondomar,  who  was  in  Spain,  wrote  to  express 
his  regard  and  respect,  with  lamentations  that  his 
public  duties  prevented  his  immediate  attendance 
upon  him  in  England. 

When  the  Marquis  d'Effiat  accompanied  the 
Princess  Henrietta-Maria,  wife  to  Charles  the 
First,  to  England,  he  visited  Lord  Bacon;  who, 
1  being  then  sick  in  bed,  received  him  with  the 
curtains  drawn.  "  You  resemble  the  angels," 
said  that  minister  to  him  :  "we  hear  those  beings 
continually  talked  of,  we  believe  them  superior 
to  mankind,  and  we  never  have  the  consolation 
to  see  them."  "Your  kindness,"  he  answered, 
"  may  compare  me  to  an  angel,  but  my  infirmities 
tell  me  that  I  am  a  man."  In  this  interview  a 
friendship  originated  which  continued  during 
their  lives,  and  is  recorded  in  his  will,  where, 


ex 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


amongst  his  legacies  to  his  friends,  he  says,  "  I 
give  unto  the  right  honourable  my  worthy  friend, 
the  Marquis  Fiatt,  late  lord  ambassador  of  France, 
my  books  of  orisons  or  psalms  curiously  rhymed." 
As  a  parent  he  wrote  to  the  marquis,  who  esteem 
ed  it  to  be  the  greatest  honour  conferred  upon 
him  to  be  called  his  son.  He  caused  his  Essays 
and  treatise  De  Augmentis  to  be  translated  into 
French ;  and,  with  the  affectionate  enthusiasm  of 
youth,  upon  his  return  to  France,  requested  and 
obtained  his  portrait. 

His  friendship  with  Sir  Julius  Caesar,  Master 
of  the  Rolls,  continued  to  his  death. 

Selden,  the  chief  of  learned  men  reputed  in 
this  land,  expressed  his  respect,  with  the  assu 
rance  that  «  never  was  any  man  more  willing  or 
ready  to  do  your  lordship's  service  than  myself." 

Ben  Jonson,  not  in  general  too  profuse  of 
praise,  says,  "  My  conceit  of  his  person  was 
never  increased  toward  him  by  his  place  or  ho 
nours  ;  but  I  have  and  do  reverence  him  for  the 
greatness  that  was  only  proper  to  himself,  in  that 
he  seemed  to  me  ever  by  his  works  one  of  the 
greatest  men,  and  most  worthy  of  admiration  that 
had  been  in  many  ages  :  in  his  adversity,  I  ever 
pra3red  that  God  would  give  him  strength,  for  great 
ness  he  could  not  want;  neither  could  I  condole 
in  a  word  or  syllable  for  him,  as  knowing  no  ac 
cident  could  do  harm  to  virtue,  but  rather  help  to 
make  it  manifest." 

Sir  Thomas  Meautys  stood  by  him  to  his  death 
with  a  firmness  and  love  which  does  honour  to 
him  and  to  human  nature. 

His  exclusion  from  the  verge  of  the  court  had 
long  been  remitted  ;  and,  in  the  beginning  of  the 
year  162-1,  the  whole  of  the  parliamentary  sen 
tence  was  pardoned,  by  a  wrarrant  which  stated 
that,  "  calling  to  mind  the  former  good  services 
of  the  Lord  St.  Albans,  and  how  well  and  profi 
tably  he  hath  spent  his  time  since  his  trouble,  we 
are  pleased  to  remove  from  him  that  blot  of 
ignominy  which  yet  remaineth  upon  him,  of  in 
capacity  and  disablement;  and  to  remit  to  him 
all  penalties  whatsoever  inflicted  by  that  sentence. 
Having  therefore  formerly  pardoned  his  fine,  and 
released  his  confinement,  these  are  to  will  and 
require  you  to  prepare,  for  our  signature,  a  bill 
containing  a  pardon  of  the  whole  sentence." 

This  was  one  of  the  last  of  the  king's  acts,  who 
thus  faithfully  performed,  to  the  extent  of  his 
ability,  all  his  promises.  He  died  at  Theobalds, 
on  the  27th  of  March,  1625. 

His  lordship  was  summoned  to  parliament  in 
the  succeeding  reign,  but  was  prevented,  by  his 
infirmities,  from  again  taking  his  seat  as  a  peer. 

Though  Lord  Bacon's  constitution  had  never 
been  strong,  his  temperance  and  management  of 
his  health  seemed  to  promise  old  age,  which  his 
unbounded  knowledge  and  leisure  for  speculation 
could  not  fail  to  render  useful  to  the  world  and 
glorious  to  himself.  The  retirement,  which  in  all 


the  distractions  of  politics  refreshed  and  consoled 
him,  was  once  more  his  own,  and  nature,  whom 
he  worshipped,  spread  her  vast  untrodden  fields 
before  him,  where,  with  science  as  his  hand 
maid,  he  might  wander  at  his  will ;  but  the  ex 
pectations  of  the  learned  world  and  the  hopes  of 
his  devoted  friends  were  all  blighted  by  a  per 
ceptible  decay  of  his  health  and  strength  in  the 
beginning  of  the  sickly  year  of  1625. 

During  this  year  his  publications  were  limited 
to  a  new  edition  of  his  Essays,  a  small  volume  of 
Apophthegms,  the  production,  as  a  recreation  in 
sickness,  of  a  morning's  dictation,  and  a  transla 
tion  of  a  few  of  the  Psalms  of  David  into  English 
verse,  which  he  dedicated  to  a  divine  and  poet, 
his  friend,  the  learned  and  religious  George 
Herbert.  This  was  the  last  exercise,  in  the  time 
of  his  illness,  of  his  pious  mind ;  and  a  more 
pious  mind  never  existed. 

There  is  scarcely  a  line  of  his  works  in  which 
a  deep,  awful,  religious  feeling  is  not  manifested. 
It  is  perhaps,  most  conspicuous  in  his  Confession 
of  Faith,  of  which  Dr.  Rawley  says,  "  For  that 
treatise  of  his  lordship's,  inscribed,  A  Confession 
of  the  Faith,  I  have  ranked  that  in  the  close  of 
this  whole  volume  ;  thereby  to  demonstrate  to  the 
world  that  he  was  a  master  in  divinity,  as  well  as 
in  philosophy  or  politics,  and  that  he  was  versed 
no  less  in  the  saving  knowledge  than  in  the  uni 
versal  and  adorning  knowledges;  for  though  he 
composed  the  same  many  years  before  his  death, 
yet  I  thought  that  to  be  the  fittest  place,  as  the 
most  acceptable  incense  unto  God  of  the  faith 
wherein  he  resigned  his  breath  ;  the  crowning  of  all 
his  other  perfections  and  abilities ;  and  the  best 
perfume  of  his  name  to  the  world  after  his  death. 
This  confession  of  his  faith  doth  abundantly  tes 
tify  that  he  was  able  to  render  a  reason  of  the  hope 
which  was  in  him." 

It  might  be  said  of  him,  as  one  of  the  most 
deep  thinking  of  men  said  of  himself,  "  For  my 
religion,  though  there  be  several  circumstances 
that  might  persuade  the  world  I  have  none  at  all, 
yet,  in  despite  thereof,  I  dare,  without  usurpation, 
assume  the  honourable  style  of  a  Christian ;  not 
that  I  merely  owe  this  title  to  the  font,  my  edu 
cation,  or  clime  wherein  I  was  born,  but  having, 
in  my  riper  years  and  confirmed  judgment,  seen 
and  examined  all,  I  find  myself  bound  by  the 
principles  of  grace  and  the  law  of  mine  own 
reason  to  embrace  no  other  religion  than  this." 

From  his  Prayers,  found  after  his  death,  his 
piety  cannot  be  mistaken.  They  have  the  same 
glory  around  them,  whether  they  are  his  suppli 
cations  as  a  student,  as  an  author,  or  as  a  pre 
server,  when  chancellor,  of  the  religious  senti 
ments  of  the  country. 

As  a  student,  he  prays,  that  he  may  not  be 
inflated  or  misled  by  the  vanity  which  makes 
man  wise  in  his  own  conceit :  "  To  God  the  Fa 
ther,  God  the  Word,  God  the  Spirit,  we  put  forth 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


cxi 


most  humble  and  hearty  supplications,  that  hu 
man  things  may  not  prejudice  such  as  are  divine; 
neither  that,  from  the  unlocking  of  the  gates  of 
sense,  and  the  kindling  of  a  greater  natural  light, 
any  tiling  of  incredulity  or  intellectual  night 
may  arise  in  our  minds  towards  divine  mys 
teries." 

As  an  author  he  prays  in  the  same  spirit : 
"  Thou,  O  Father,  who  gavest  the  visible  light  as 
the  first-born  of  thy  creatures,  and  didst  pour  into 
man  the  intellectual  light  as  the  top  and  consum 
mation  of  thy  workmanship,  be  pleased  to  protect 
and  govern  this  work,  which,  coming  from  thy 
goodness,  returneth  to  thy  glory." 

The  same  spirit  did  not  forsake  him  wrhen 
chancellor:  "Most  gracious  Lord  God,  my  mer 
ciful  Father  from  my  youth  up,  my  Creator,  my 
Redeemer,  my  Comforter.  Remember,  O  Lord, 
how  thy  servant  hath  walked  before  thee :  re 
member  what  I  have  first  sought,  and  what  hath 
been  principal  in  my  intentions.  I  have  loved  thy 
assemblies  :  I  have  mourned  for  the  divisions  of 
thy  church :  I  have  delighted  in  the  brightness  of 
thy  sanctuary.  This  vine,  which  thy  right-hand 
hath  planted  in  this  nation,  I  have  ever  prayed 
unto  thee  that  it  might  have  the  first  and  the  latter 
rain  ;  and  that  it  might  stretch  her  branches  to  the 
seas  and  to  the  floods.  Thy  creatures  have  been 
my  books,  but  thy  Scriptures  much  more.  I  have 
sought  thee  in  the  courts,  fields,  and  gardens,  but 
I  have  found  thee  in  thy  temples." 

The  same  holy  feeling  appears  in  all  his  im 
portant  works.  The  preface  to  his  Instauratio 
Magna  opens  and  concludes  with  a  prayer.  The 
treatise  "  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum"  abounds 
with  religious  sentiments,  contains  two  tracts, 
one  upon  natural,  the  other  upon  revealed  religion, 
•'the Sabbath  and  port  of  all  men's  labours,"  and 
concludes,  "  Attamen,  quoniam  etiam  res  quaeque 
maxima?  initiis  suis  debentur,  mihi  satis  fuerit  se- 
visse  posteris  et  Deo  immortal!:  cujus  numen 
supplex  precor,  per  filium  suum  et  servatorem 
nostrum,  ut  has  et  hisce  similes  intellects  hu- 
rnani  victimas,  religione  tanquam  sale  respersas, 
et  glorias  suae  imrnolatas,  propitius  accipere  dig- 
netur."  In  the  midst  of  his  profound  reasoning 
in  the  Ncvum  Organum,  there  is  a  passage  in 
which  his  opinion  of  our  incorporeal  nature  is  dis 
closed.  And  the  third  part  of  the  Installation 
concludes  thus:  "  Deus  Universi  Conditor,  Con 
servator,  Instaurator,  hoc  opus,  et  in  ascensione 
ad  gloriam  suam,  et  in  descensione  ad  bonum 
hurnanum  pro  sua  erga  homines,  benevolentia,  et 
misericordia,  protegat  et  regat,  per  Filium  suum 
unicum.  nobiscum  Deum." 

In  his  minor  publications  the  same  piety  may 
be  seen.  It  appears  in  the  Meditationes  Sacrae ; 
in  the  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients  ;  in  the  fables  of 
Pan,  of  Prometheus,  of  Pentheus,  and  of  Cupid  : 
in  various  parts  of  the  Essays,  but  particularly  in 
the  Essay  on  Atheism  and  Goodness  of  Nature : 


in  the  New  Atlantis :  in  his  tract "  De  principiis," 
and  the  tract,  entitled  "The  Conditions  of  Enti 
ties." 

There  is  a  tract  entitled  "  The  Characters  of  a 
believing  Christian,  in  paradoxes  and  seeming 
contradictions,"  which  is  spurious. 

Such  are  his  religious  sentiments  in  different 
parts  of  his  works  :  but  they  are  not  confined  to 
his  publications.  They  appear  where,  according 
to  his  own  doctrine,  our  opinions  may  always  be 
discovered,  in  his  familiar  letters,  in  the  testimony 
of  his  friends,  in  his  unguarded  observations,  and 
in  his  will. 

In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Mathew,  imprisoned  for  reli 
gion,  he  says,  "I  pray  God,  who  understandeth 
us  all  better  than  we  understand  one  another,  con 
tain  you,  even  as  I  hope  he  will,  at  the  least, 
within  the  bounds  of  loyalty  to  his  majesty,  and 
natural  piety  towards  your  country."  In  the  de 
cline  of  his  life,  in  his  letter  to  the  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  he  says,  "Amongst  consolations,  it 
is  not  the  least  to  represent  to  a  man's  self  like 
examples  of  calamity  in  others.  In  this  kind  of 
consolation  I  have  not  been  wanting  to  myself, 
though,  as  a  Christian,  I  have  tasted,  through 
God's  great  goodness,  of  higher  remedies." 

In  his  essay  on  Atheism  there  is  an  observation, 
which  may  appear  to  a  superficial  observer  hasty 
and  unguarded,  inconsistent  with  the  language  of 
philosophy,  and  at  variance  with  his  own  doc 
trines.  It  was  written,  not  in  prostration  to  any 
idol,  but  from  his  horror  of  the  barren  and  deso 
late  minds  that  are  continually  saying,  "There  is 
no  God,"  and  his  preference,  if  compelled  to 
elect,  of  the  least  of  two  errors.  "I  had  rather," 
he  says,  "  believe  all  the  fables  in  the  Legend  and 
the  Talmud  and  the  Alcoran,  than  that  this  uni 
versal  frame  is  without  a  mind." 

As  knowledge  consists  in  understanding  the 
sequence  of  events,  or  cause  and  effect,  he  knew 
that  error  must  exist,  not  only  from  our  ignorance, 
but  from  our  knowledge  of  immediate  causes. 

In  the  infancy  of  his  reason,  man  ascribes 
events  to  chance,  or  to  a  wrong  natural  cause,  or 
to  the  immediate  interference  of  a  superior  bene 
volent  or  malevolent  being;  and,  having  formed 
an  opinion,  he  entrenches  himself  within  its  nar 
row  boundaries,  or  is  indolently  content  without 
seeking  for  any  remote  cause,  but  philosophy  en 
deavours  to  discover  the  antecedent  in  the  chain 
of  events,  and  looks  up  to  the  first  cause. 

This  stopping  at  second  causes,  the  property 
of  animals  and  of  ignorance,  always  diminishes 
as  knowledge  advances.  Great  intellect  cannot 
be  severed  from  piety.  It  was  reserved  for  the 
wisest  of  men  to  raise  a  temple  to  the  living  God. 

The  philosopher  who  discovered  the  immediate 
cause  of  lightning  was  not  inflated  by  his  beau 
tiful  discovery :  he  was  conscious  of  the  power 
"which  dwelleth  in  thick  darkness,  and  sendeth 
out  lightning  like  arrows." 


CX11 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


The  philosopher  who  discovered  the  immediate 
cause  of  the  rainbow  did  not  rest  in  the  proximate 
cause,  but  raised  his  thoughts  to  Him  who  placeth 
his  bow  in  the  heavens.  "Very  beautiful  it  is  in 
the  brightness  thereof:  itcompasseth  the  heaven 
about  with  a  glorious  circle,  and  the  hand  of  the 
Most  High  hath  bended  it." 

Hence,  therefore,  Bacon  said  in  his  youth,  and 
repeated  in  his  age,  "  It  is  an  assured  truth,  and 
a  conclusion  of  experience,  that  a  little  or  super 
ficial  knowledge  of  philosophy  may  incline  the 
mind  of  man  to  atheism,  but  a  farther  proceeding 
therein  doth  bring  the  mind  back  again  to  reli 
gion  ;  for  in  the  entrance  of  philosophy,  when 
the  second  causes,  which  are  next  unto  the 
senses,  do  offer  themselves  to  the  mind  of  man, 
if  it  dwell  and  stay  there,  it  may  induce  some 
oblivion  of  the  highest  cause ;  but  when  a  man 
passeth  on  farther,  and  seeth  the  dependence  of 
causes,  and  the  works  of  Providence ;  then,  ac 
cording  to  the  allegory  of  the  poets,  he  will  easily 
believe  that  the  highest  link  of  nature's  chain 
must  needs  be  tied  to  the  foot  of  Jupiter's  chair." 

The  testimony  of  his  friends  is  of  the  same  na 
ture.  His  chaplain  and  biographer,  Dr.  Rawley, 
says,  "  That  this  lord  was  religious  and  conver 
sant  with  God,  appeareth  by  several  passages 
throughout  the  whole  current  of  his  writings. 
He  repaired  frequently,  when  his  health  would 
permit  him,  to  the  service  of  the  church ;  to  hear 
sermons ;  to  the  administration  of  the  sacrament 
of  the  blessed  body  and  blood  of  Christ;  and 
died  in  the  true  faith  established  in  the  Church 
of  England." 

His  will  thus  opens  :  "I  bequeath  my  soul  and 
body  into  the  hands  of  God  by  the  blessed  oblation 
of  my  Saviour;  the  one  at  the  time  of  my  dissolu 
tion,  the  other  at  the  time  of  my  resurrection." — 
Such  are  the  proofs  of  his  religious  opinions. 

His  version  of  the  Psalms  was  the  last  of  his 
literary  labours. 

In  the  autumn,  he  retired  to  Gorhambury. 

In  the  latter  end  of  October  he  wrote  to  Mr. 
Palmer. 

Good  Mr.  Palmer  : — I  thank  God,  by  means  of 
the  sweet  air  of  the  country,  I  have  obtained  some 
degree  of  health.     Sending  to  the  court,  I  thought 
I  would  salute  you ;  and  I  would  be  glad,  in  this 
solitary  time  and  place,  to  hear  a  little  from  you 
how  the  world  goeth,  according  to  your  friendly 
manner  heretofore.     Fare  ye  well,  most  heartily. 
Your  very  affectionate  and  assured  friend, 
FR.  ST.  ALBAN. 

Gorhambury,  Oct.  29,  1025. 

In  November  he  wrote  to  the  Duke  of  Buck 
ingham. 

The  severe  winter  which  followed  the  infec 
tious  summer  of  this  year  brought  him  very  low. 

On  the  19th  of  December  he  made  his  will. 

Tn  the  spring  of  1626  his  strength  and  spirits 


revived,  and  he  returned  to  his  favourite  seclusion 
in  Gray's  Inn,  from  whence,  on  the  2d  of  April, 
either  in  his  way  to  Gorhambury,  or  when  making 
an  excursion  into  the  country,  with  Dr.  Wither- 
bone,  the  king's  physician,  it  occurred  to  him,  as 
he  approached  Highgate,  the  snow  lying  on  the 
ground,  that  it  might  be  deserving  consideration, 
whether  flesh  might  not  be  preserved  as  well  in 
snow  as  in  salt ;  and  he  resolved  immediately  to  try 
the  experiment.  They  alighted  out  of  the  coach, 
and  went  into  a  poor  woman's  house  at  the  bottom 
of  Highgate  Hill,  and  bought  a  hen,  and  stuffed 
the  body  with  snow,  and  my  lord  did  help  to  do 
it  himself.  The  snow  chilled  him,  and  he  imme 
diately  fell  so  extremely  ill,  that  he  could  not 
return  to  Gray's  Inn,  but  was  taken  to  the  Earl  of 
Arundel's  house,  at  Highgate,  where  he  was  put 
into  a  warm  bed,  but  it  was  damp,  and  had  not 
been  slept  in  for  a  year  before. 

Whether  Sir  Thomas  Meautys  or  Dr.  Rawley 
could  be  found  does  not  appear ;  but  a  messenger 
was  immediately  sent  to  his  relation,  the  Master 
of  the  Rolls,  the  charitable  Sir  Julius  Caesar, 
then  grown  so  old,  that  he  was  said  to  be  kept 
alive  beyond  nature's  course,  by  the  prayers  of 
the  many  poor  whom  he  daily  relieved.  He  in 
stantly  attended  his  friend,  who,  confined  to  his 
bed,  and  so  enfeebled  that  he  was  unable  to  hold 
a  pen,  could  still  exercise  his  lively  fancy.  He 
thus  wrote  to  Lord  Arundel : 

"  My  very  good  Lord, 

"  I  was  likely  to  have  had  the  fortune  of  Cajus 
Plinius  the  elder,  who  lost  his  life  by  trying  an 
experiment  about  the  burning  of  the  Mountain 
Vesuvius.  For  I  was  also  desirous  to  try  an  ex 
periment  or  two,  touching  the  conservation  and 
induration  of  bodies.  As  for  the  experiment 
itself,  it  succeeded  excellently  well ;  but  in  the 
journey  bet  ween  London  and  Highgate  I  was  taken 
with  such  a  fit  of  casting  as  I  knew  not  whether 
it  were  the  stone,  or  some  surfeit,  or  cold,  or 
indeed  a  touch  of  them  all  three.  But  when  I 
came  to  your  lordship's  house,  I  was  not  able  to 
go  back,  and  therefore  was  forced  to  take  up  my 
lodging  here,  where  your  housekeeper  is  very 
careful  and  diligent  about  me,  which  I  assure 
myself  your  lordship  will  not  only  pardon  towards 
him,  but  think  the  better  of  him  for  it.  For  in 
deed  your  lordship's  house  was  happy  tome;  and 
I  kiss  your  noble  hands  for  the  welcome  which  I 
am  sure  you  give  me  to  it. 

"I  know  how  unfit  it  is  for  me  to  write  to  your 
lordship  with  any  other  hand  than  my  own;  but, 
by  my  troth,  my  fingers  are  so  disjointed  with  this 
fit  of  sickness,  that  I  cannot  steadily  hold  a  pen." 

This  was  his  last  letter.  He  died  in  the  arms 
of  Sir  Julius  Caesar,  early  on  the  morning  of  Easter 
Sunday,  the  9th  of  April,  1626,  in  the  sixty-sixth 
year  of  his  age. 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


cxn/ 


On  opening  his  will,  his  wish  to  be  buried  at  St. 
Albans  thus  appears :  "  For  my  burial,  I  desire  it 
may  be  in  St.  Michael's  church,  near  St.  Albans  : 
there  was  my  mother  buried,  and  it  is  the  parish 
church  of  my  mansion-house  of  Gorhambury,  and 
it  is  the  only  Christian  church  within  the  walls 
of  Old  Verulam." 

Of  his  funeral  no  account  can  be  found,  nor  is 
there  any  trace  of  the  site  of  the  house  where  he 
died. 

He  is  buried  in  the  same  grave  with  his  mother, 
in  St.  Michael's  church. 

On  his  monument  he  is  represented  sitting  in 
contemplation,  his  hand  supporting  his  head. 

FRANCISCUS  BACON.  BARO  BE  VERULA.  STI :  ALBNI :  VICMS : 

SEU   NOTIORIBUS  TITUL1S. 
SCIENTIARUM    LUMEN.  FACUNDI^E  LEX. 

SIC  SEDEBAT  : 

QUI  POSTQUAM  OMNIA  NATURALIS    SAPIENTI^E 

ET   CIVILIS  ARCANA  EVOLVISSET 

NATURE  DECRETUM  EXPLEVIT 

COMPOSITA    SOLVANTUR. 

AN0  DNI    MDCCVI 

JETAT3  LXVI 

TANTI     VIRI 

MEM. 

THOMAS  MEAUTYS 

SUPERSTITIS  CULTOR 

DEFUNCTI ADMIRATOR 

H  P 

This  monument,  erected  by  his  faithful  secre 
tary,  has  transmitted  to  posterity  the  image  of  his 
person ;  and,  though  no  statue  could  represent  his 
mind,  his  attitude  of  deep  and  tranquil  thought 
cannot  be  seen  without  emotion. 

No  sculptured  form  gives  the  lineaments  of  Sir 
Thomas  Meautys.  A  plain  stone  records  the 
fact,  that  he  lies  at  his  master's  feet.  Much  time 
will  not  pass  away  before  the  few  letters  which 
may  now  be  seen  upon  his  grave  will  be  effaced. 
His  monument  will  be  found  in  the  veneration  of 
after  times,  in  the  remembrance  of  his  grateful 
adherence  to  the  fallen  fortunes  of  his  master, 
"that  he  loved  and  admired  him  in  life,  and 
honoured  him  when  dead." 


CONCLUSION. 

j      IN  his  analysis  of  human  nature,  Bacon  consi- 

/  ders  first  the  general  properties  of  man,  and  then 

>the  peculiar  properties  of  his  body  and  of  his 

mind.     This  mode  may  be  adopted  in  reviewing 

/his  life. 

He  was  of  a  temperament  of  the  most  delicate 

\    sensibility  :  so  excitable,  as  to  be  affected  by  the 

1    sli'rlitest   alterations   in    the   atmosphere.     It  is 

probable   that  the  temperament  of  genius   may 

^much  depend  upon  such  pressibility,  and  that  to 

(this  cause  the  excellences  and  failures  of  Bacon 

VOL.  I — (15) 


[  may  frequently  be  traced.  His  health  was  always 
j  delicate,  and,  to  use  his  own  expression,  he  was 
j  all  his  life  puddering  with  physic. 

He  was  of  a  middle  stature,  and  well  propot- 
tioned;  his  features  were  handsome  and  expres 
sive,  and  his  countenance,  until  it  was  injured  by 
politics  and  worldly  warfare,  singularly  placid. 
There  is  a  portrait  of  him  when  he  was   only 
eighteen  now   extant,  on   which  the   artist  has 
1  recorded  his  despair  of  doing  justice  to  his  sub- 
I  ject  by  the  inscription  "  Si  tabula  daretur  dig- 
na,  animum  mallem."     His    portraits  differ  be 
yond  what  may  be  considered  a  fair  allowance 
j  for  the  varying  skill  of  the  artist,  or  the  natural 
changes  which  time  wrought  upon  his  person ;  but 
none  of  them  contradict  the  description  given  by 
one  who  knew  him  well,  "  that  he  had  a  spacious 
forehead  and  piercing  eye,  looking  upward  as  a 
soul  in  sublime  contemplation,  a  countenance  wor 
thy  of  one  who  was  to  set  free  captive  philosophy." 
His  life  of  mind  was  never  exceeded,  perhaps 
never  equalled.     When  a  child, 

"No  childish  play  to  him  was  pleasing." 

While  his  companions  were  diverting  themselves 
in  the  park,  he  was  occupied  in  meditating  upon 
the  causes  of  the  echoes  and  the  nature  of  imagi 
nation.  In  after  life  he  was  a  master  of  the  sci 
ence  of  harmony,  and  the  laws  of  imagination  he 
studied  with  peculiar  care,  and  well  understood. 
.The  same  penetration  he  extended  to  colours,  and 
to  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  predicted  the  modes 
by  which  their  laws  would  be  discovered,  and 
which,  after  the  lapse  of  a  century,  were  so  beauti 
fully  elucidated  by  Newton. 

The  extent  of  his  views  was  immense.  He 
stood  on  a  cliff,  and  surveyed  the  whole  of  nature. 
His  vigilant  observation  of  what  we,  in  common 
parlance,  call  trifles,  was,  perhaps,  more  extraor 
dinary  :  scarcely  a  pebble  on  the  shore  escaped 
his  notice.  It  is  thus  that  genius  is,  from  its  life 
of  mind,  attentive  to  all  things,  and,  from  seeing 
real  union  in  the  apparent  discrepancies  of  nature, 
deduces  general  truths  from  particular  instances. 

His  powers  were  varied  and  in  great  perfection. 
His  senses  were  exquisitely  acute,  and  he  used 
them  to  dissipate  illusions,  by  "  holding  firm  to  the 
works  of  God  and  to  the  sense,  which  is  God's 
lamp,  Luccrna  Dei,  spiraculum  hominis" 
f~  His  imagination  was  fruitful  and  vivid ;  but  he 
understood  its  laws,  and  governed  it  with  abso 
lute  sway.  He  used  it  as  a  philosopher.  It 
never  had  precedence  in  his  mind,  but  followed  in 
/the  train  of  his  reason..  With  her  hues,  her  forms, 
and  the  spirit  of  her  forms,  he  clothed  the  naked- 
jness  of  austere  truth. 

He  was  careful  in  improving  the  excellences, 
and  in  diminishing  the  defects  of  his  understand- 
iyig,  whether  from  inability  at  particular  times  to 
acquire  knowledge,  or  inability  to  acquire  particu 
•lar  sorts  of  knowledge. 

(K2) 


CX1V 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


As  to  temporary  inability,  his  golden  rules 
were,  "1st,  Fix  good,  obliterate  bad  times.  2dly, 
In  studies,  whatsoever  a  man  commandeth  upon 
himself,  let  him  set  hours  for  it;  but  whatever  is 
agreeable  tc  his  nature,  let  him  take  no  care  for 
any  set  houis,  for  his  thoughts  will  fly  to  it  of 
themselves." — He  so  mastered  and  subdued  his 
mind  as  to  :ounteract  disinclination  to  study  ;  and 
he  prevented  fatigue  by  stopping  in  due  time  :  l>y 
a  judicious  intermission  of  studies,  and  by  never 
plodding  upon  books  ;  for,  although  he  read  inces 
santly,  he  winnowed  quickly.  Interruption  was 
only  a  diversion  of  study;  and  if  necessary,  he 
sought  retirement. 

Of  inability  to  acquire  particular  sorts  of  know 
ledge  he  was  scarcely  conscious.  He  was  inte 
rested  in  all  trulls,  and,  by  investigations  in  his 
youth  upon  subjects  from  which  he  was  averse, 
he  wore  out  the  knots  and  stondsof  his  mind,  and 
made  it  pliant  to  all  inquiry.  He  contemplated 
nature  in  detail  and  in  mass :  he  contracted  the 
sight  of  his  mind  and  dilated  it. — He  saw  differ 
ences  in  apparent  resemblances,  and  resemblances 
in  apparent  differences. — He  had  not  any  attach 
ment  either  to  antiquity  or  novelty. — He  prevented 
mental  aberration  by  studies  which  produced  fix 
edness,  and  fixedness  by  keeping  his  mind  alive 
\nd  open  to  perpetual  improvement. 

The  theory  of  memory  he  understood  and  ex 
plained  :  and  in  its  practice  he  was  perfect.  He 
knew  much,  and  what  he  once  knew  he  seldom 
rorgot. 

In  his  compositions  his  first  object  was  clear 
ness :  to  reduce  marvels  to  plain  things,  not  to 
inflate  plain  things  into  marvels.  He  was  not 
attached  either  to  method  or  to  ornament,  although 
he  adopted  both  to  insure  a  favourable  reception 
for  abstruse  truths. 

Such  is  a  faint  outline  of  his  mind,  which,  « like 
the  sun,  had  both  light  and  agility  ;  it  knew  no 
rest  but  in  motion,  no  quiet  but  inactivity:  it  did 
not  so  properly  apprehend,  as  irradiate  the  object; 
not  so  much  find,  as  make  things  intelligible. 
There  was  no  poring,  no  struggling  with  me 
mory,  no  straining  for  invention;  his  faculties 
were  quick  and  expedite :  they  were  ready  upon 
the  first  summons,  there  was  freedom  and  firm 
ness  in  all  their  operations;  his  understanding 
could  almost  pierce  into  future  contingents ;  his 
conjectures  improving  even  to  prophecy  ;  he  saw 
consequents  yet  dormant  in  their  principles,  and 
effects  yet  unborn,  in  the  womb  of  their  causes." 

How  much  is  it  to  be  lamented  that  such  a 
mind,  with  such  a  temperament,  was  not  altoge 
ther  devoted  to  contemplation,  to  the  tranquil 
pursuit  of  knowledge,  and  the  calm  delights  of 
piety. 

That  in  his  youth  he  should  quit  these  pleasant 
paths  for  the  troubels  and  trappings  of  public  life 
would  be  a  cause  for  wonder,  if  it  were  not  re 
membered  that  man  amongst  men  is  a  social 


being ;  and,  however  he  may  abstract  himself  in 
his  study,  or  climb  the  hill  above  him,  he  must 
daily  mingle  with  their  hopes  and  fears,  their 
wishes  and  affections.  He  was  cradled  in  poli 
tics  :  to  be  lord  keeper  was  the  boundary  of  the 
horizon  drawn  by  his  parents.  He  lived  in  an 
age  when  a  young  mind  would  be  dazzled,  ?,nd  a 
young  heart  engaged  by  the  gorgeous  and  chival- 
ric  style  which  pervaded  all  things,  and  which  a 
romantic  queen  loved  and  encouraged  :  life  seem 
ed  a  succession  of  splendid  dramatic  scenes,  and 
the  gravest  business  a  well  acted  court  masque ; 
the  mercenary  place-hunter  knelt  "to  beg  a  favour 
with  the  devoteTairofa"  knight  er73rTTT~and  even 
sober  citizens  put  on  a  clumsy  disguise  of  gal 
lantry,  and  compared  their  royal  mistress  to  Venus 
and  Diana.  There  was  nothing  to  revolt  a  youril 
and  ingenuous  mind  :  the  road  to  power  was,  no 
doubt,  then  as  it  is  now ;  but,  covered  with  tapes- 
try  and  strewed  with  flowers,  it  could  not  be 
suspected  that  it  was  either  dirty  or  crooked.  He 
had  also  that  common  failing  of  genius  and  ardent 
youth,  which  lod  him  to  be  confident  of  his 
strength  rather  than  suspicious  of  his  weakness  ; 
and  it  was  his  favourite  doctrine,  that  the  perfec 
tion  of  human  conduct  consists  in  the  union  of 
contemplation  and  action,  a  conjunction  of  the 
two  highest  planets,  Saturn,  the  planet  of  rest  and 
contemplation,  and  Jupiter,  the  planet  of  civil  so 
ciety  and  action;  but  he  should  have  recollected 
that  Jupiter  dethroned  Saturn,  and  that  civil 
affairs  seldom  fail  to  usurp  and  take  captive  the 
whole  man.  He  soon  saw  his  error  :  how  futile 
the  end,  how  unworthy  the  means  !  but  he  was 
fettered  by  narrow  circumstances,  and  his  endea 
vours  to  extricate  himself  were  vain. 

Into  active  life  he  entered,  and  carried  into  it 
his  powerful  mind  and  the  principles  of  his  phi 
losophy.  As  a  philosopher  he  was  sincere  in  his 
love  of  science,  intrepid  and  indefatigable  in  the 
pursuit  and  improvement  of  it :  his  philosophy  is, 
"  discover — improve."  He  was  patientissimus 
veri.  He  was  a  reformer,  not  an  innovator.  His 
desire  was  to  proceed,  not "  in  aliud,"  but "  in  me- 
lius."  His  motive  was  not  the  love  of  excelling, 
but  the  love  of  excellence.  He  stood  on  such  a 
height  that  popular  praise  or  dispraise  could  not 
reach  him. 

He  was  a  cautious  reformer ;  quick-4o  hear, 
slow  to  speak.  "Use  Argus's  hundred  eyes 
before  yon  raise  one  of  Briareus's  hundred  hands," 
was  his  maxim. 

He  was  a  gradual  reformer.  He  thought  that 
reform  ought  to  be,  like  the  advances  of  nature, 
scarce  discernible  in  its  motion,  but  only  visible^ 
in  its  issue.  His  admonition  was,  "  Let  a  living 
spring  constantly  flow  into  the  stagnant  waters." 

He  was  a  confident  reformer.  "  I  have  held  up 
a  light  in  the  obscurity  of  philosophy,  which  will 
be  seen  centuries  after  I  am  dead.  It  will  be< 
seen  amidst  the  erection  of  temples,  tombs,  pa- 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


cxv 


laces,  theatres,  bridges,  making  noble  roads,  cut 
ting  canals,  granting  multitude  of  charters  anc 
liberties  for  comfort  of  decayed  companies  and 
corporations  :  the  foundation  of  colleges  and  lec 
tures  for  learning  and  the  education  of  youth; 
foundations  and  institutions  of  orders  and  frater 
nities  for  nobility,  enterprise,  and  obedience ;  but 
above  all,  the  establishing  good  laws  for  the  regu 
lation  of  the  kingdom  and  as  an  example  to  the 
world." 

He  was  a  permanent  reformer. — He  knew  tha 
wise  reform,  instead  of  palliating  a  complaint 
looks  at  the  real  cause-^of  the  malady.  He  con 
curred  with  his  opponent,  Sir  Edward  Coke,  in 
saying,  "  Si  quid  moves  a  principio  moveas.  Er- 
rores  ad  principia  referre  est  refellere."  His  opi 
nion  was,  that  he  "who,  in  the  cure  of  politic  or 
of  natural  disorders,  shall  rest  himself  contented 
with  second  causes,  without  setting  forth  in  di 
ligent  travel  to  .search  for  the  original  source  of 
evil,  doth  resemble  the  slothful  husbandman,  who 
inoweth  down  the  heads  of  noisome  weeds,  when 
he  should  carefully  pull  up  the  roots ;  and  the 
work  shall  ever  be  to  do  again." 
"--Cautious,  gradual,  permanent  reform,  from  the 
love  of  excellence,  is  ever  in  the  train  of  know 
ledge.  They  are  the  tests  of  a  true  reformer. 

Such  were  the  principles  which  he  carried  into 
law  and  into  politics. 

As  a  lawyer,  he  looked  with  micrescopic  eye 
into  its  subtleties,  and  soon  made  great  proliciencc 
in  the  science.  He  was  active  in  the  discharge 
ot  his  professional  duties:  and  published  various 
works  upon  different  parts  of  the  law.  In  his 
offices  of  solicitor  and  attorney-general,  "  when 
he  was  called,  as  he  was  of  the  king's  council 
learned,  to  charge  any  offenders,  either  in  crimi 
nals  or  capitals,  he  was  never  of  an  insulting  and 
domineering  nature  over  them,  but  always  tender 
hearted,  and  carrying  himself  decently  towards 
the  parties,  though  it  was  his  duty  to  charge  them 
home,  but  yet  as  one  that  looked  upon  the  ex 
ample  with  the  eye  of  severity,  but  upon  the 
person  with  the  eye  of  pity  and  compassion." 

As  a  judge,  it  has  never  been  pretended  that  any 

decree  made  by  him  was  ever  reversed  as  unjust. 

As  a  patron  of  preferment,  his  favourite  maxim 

was,  "  Detur  digniori,  qui  beneficium  digno  dat 

omnes  obligat." 

.  As  a  statesman,  he  was  indefatigable  in  his 
public  exertions.  "Men  think,"  he  said,  "I 
cannot  continue  if  I  should  thus  oppress  myself 
with  business  ;  but  my  account  is  made.  The 
duties  of  life  are  more  than  life  ;  and  if  I  die  now, 
I  shall  die  before  the  world  is  weary  of  me, 
•vhich  in  our  times  is  somewhat  rare." 

His  love  of  reform,  his  master  passion,  mani 
fested  itself  both  as  a  statesman  and  as  a  lawyer; 
but,  before  he  attempted  any  change,  he,  with  his 
usual  caution,  said,  "There  is  a  great  difference 
between  arts  and  civil  affairs ;  arts  and  sciences 


should  be  like  mines,  resounding  on  all  sides 
with  new  works,  and  further  progress :  but  it  is 
not  good  to  try  experiments  in  states,  except 
the  necessity  be  urgent  or  the  utility  evident ;  and 
well  to  beware  that  it  is  the  reformation  that 
draweth  on  the  change,  and  not  the  desire  of 
change  that  pretendeth  the  reformation." 

The  desire  to  change  he  always  regarded  with 
great  jealousy.  He  knew  that  in  its  worst  form 
it  is  the  tool  by  which  demagogues  delude  and 
mislead ;  and  in  its  best  form,  when  it  originates 
in  benevolence  and  a  love  of  truth,  it  is  a  passion 
by  which  kind  intention  has  rushed  on  with  such 
fearless  impetuosity,  and  wisdom  been  hurried  into 
such  lamentable  excess  :  it  is  so  nearly  allied  to 
a  contempt  of  authority,  and  so  frequently  accom 
panied  by  a  presumptuous  confidence  in  private 
judgment:  a  dislike  of  all  established  forms, 
merely  because  they  are  established,  and  of  the 
old  paths,  merely  because  they  are  old :  it  has 
such  tendency  to  go  too  far  rather  than  not  far 
enough ;  that  this  great  man,  conscious  of  the 
blessings  of  society,  and  of  the  many  perplexities 
which  accompany  even  the  most  beneficial  altera 
tions,  always  looked  with  suspicion  upon  a  love 
of  change,  whether  it  existed  in  himself  or  in 
others.  In  his  advice  to  Sir  George  Villiers  he 
said, — "  Merit  the  admonition  of  the  wisest  of 
men  :  '  My  son,  fear  God  and  the  king,  and  med 
dle  not  with  those  who  are  given  to  change.' " 

As  a  statesman  his  first  wish  was,  in  the  true 
spirit  of  his  philosophy,  to  preserve ;  the  next,  to 
improve  the  constitution  in  church  and  state. 

In  his  endeavours  to  improve  England  arid 
Scotland  he  was  indefatigable  and  successful. 
He  had  no  sooner  succeeded  than  he  immediately 
raised  his  voice  for  oppressed  Ireland,  with  an 
earnestness  which  shows  how  deeply  he  felt  for 
her  sufferings.  "Your  majesty,"  he  said,  "ac 
cepted  my  poor  field-fruits  touching  the  union,  but 
let  me  assure  you  that  England,  Scotland,  and 
Ireland,  well  united,  will  be  a  trefoil  worthy  to  be 
worn  in  your  crown.  She  is  blessed  with  all  the 
dowries  of  nature,  and  with  a  race  of  generous  and 
noble  people  ;  but  the  hand  of  man  does  not  unite 
,vith  the  hand  of  nature.  The  harp  of  Ireland  is 
not  strung  to  concord.  It  is  not  attuned  with  the 
harp  of  David  in  casting  out  the  evil  spirit  of 
superstition,  or  the  harp  of  Orpheus  in  casting  out 
desolation  and  barbarism." 

In  these  reforms  he  acted  with  his  usual  caution. 
He  looked  about  him  to  discover  the  straight  and 
right  way,  and  so  to  walk  in  it.  He  stood  on  such 
an  eminence,  that  his  eye  rested  not  upon  small 
parts,  but  comprehended  the  whole.  He  stood  on 
he  ancient  way.  He  saw  this  happy  country, 
the  mansion-house  of  liberty.  He  saw  the  order 
and  beauty  of  her  sacred  buildings,  the  learning 
and  piety  of  her  priests,  the  sweet  repose  and  holy 
quiet  of  her  decent  Sabbaths,  and  that  best  sacrifice 
of  humble  and  simple  devotion,  more  acceptable 


CXV1 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


than  the  fire  of  the  temple,  which  went  not  out  by 
day  or  by  night.  He  saw  it  in  the  loveliness  of 
his  own  beautiful  description  of  the  blessings  of 
government.  "In  Orpheus's  theatre  all  beasts 
and  birds  assembled,  and,  forgetting  their  several 
appetites,  some  of  prey,  some  of  game,  some  of 
quarrel,  stood  all  sociably  together,  listening  to 
the  airs  and  accords  of  the  harp,  the  sound  whereof 
no  sooner  ceased,  or  was  drowned  by  some  louder 
noise,  but  every  beast  returned  to  his  own  nature ; 
wherein  is  aptly  described  the  nature  and  condi 
tion  of  men  :  who  are  full  of  savage  and  unre 
claimed  desires  of  profit,  of  lust,  of  revenge,  which 
as  long  as  they  give  ear  to  precepts,  to  laws,  to 
religion,  sweetly  touched  with  eloquence,  and 
persuasion  of  books,  of  sermons,  of  harangues,  so 
long  is  society  and  peace  maintained  ;  but  if  these 
instruments  be  silent,  or  sedition  and  tumult 
make  them  not  audible,  all  things  dissolve  into 
anarchy  and  confusion." 

In  gradual  reform  of  the  law,  his  exertions 
were  indefatigable.  lie  suggested  improvements 
both  of  the  civil  and  criminal  law  :  he  proposed 
to  reduce  and  compile  the  whole  law;  and  in  a 
tract  upon  universal  justice,  "Leges  Legum,"  he 
planted  a  seed  which,  for  the  last  two  centuries, 
has  not  been  dormant,  and  is  now  just  appearing 
above  the  surface.  He  was  thus  attentive  to  the 
ultimate  and  to  the  immediate  improvement  of  the 
law :  the  ultimate  improvement  depending  upon 
the  progress  of  knowledge.  "Veritas  temporis 
filia  dicitur,  non  authoritatis :"  the  immediate 
improvement  upon  the  knowledge  by  its  professors 
in  power,  of  the  local  law,  the  principles  of  legis 
lation,  and  general  science. 

So  this  must  ever  be.  Knowledge  cannot  exist 
without  the  love  of  improvement.  The  French 
chancellors,  D'Aguesseau  and  L'Hopital,  were 
unwearied  in  their  exertions  to  improve  the  law  ; 
and  three  works  upon  imaginary  governments, 
the  Utopia,  the  Atlantis,  and  the  Armata,  were 
written  by  English  chancellors. 

So  Sir  William  Grant,  the  reserved,  intellectua 
master  of  the  rolls,  struck  at  the  root  of  sangui 
nary  punishment,  when,  in  the  true  spirit  of 
philosophy,  he  said,  "Crime  is  prevented,  not  b> 
fear,  but  by  recoiling  from  the  act  with  horror 
which  is  generated  by  the  union  of  law,  morals, 
and  religion.  With  us  they  do  not  unite ;  anc 
our  laws  are  a  dead  letter." 

So,  too,  by  the  exertions  of  the  philosophic  and 
benevolent  Sir  Samuel  Romilly,  who  was  ani 
mated  by  a  spirit  public  as  nature,  and  not  ter 
minated  in  any  private  design,  the  criminal  lav 
has  been  purified  ;  and,  instead  of  monthly  mas 
sacres  of  young  men  and  women,  we,  in  our  nobL 
times,  have  lately  read  that  "  there  has  not  beer 
one  execution  in  London  during  the  present  shrie 
valty." — WTith  what  joy,  with  what  grateful  re 
mernbrance  has  this  been  read  by  the  many  friend 


f  that  illustrious  statesman,  who,  regardless  of 
he  senseless  yells  by  which  he  was  vilified,  went 
ight  onward  in  the  improvement  of  law,  the 
dvancement  of  knowledge,  and  the  diffusion  of 
harity. 

Such  were  Bacon's  public  exertions.  —  In  pri-    ' 
ate  life  he  was  always  cheerful  and  often  playful,  ' 
iccording  to  his  own  favourite  maxim,  "  To  be  v 
ree-minded  and  cheerfully  disposed  at  hours  of 
neat,  and  of  sleep,  and  of  exercise,  is  one  of  the 
est  precepts  of  long  lasting." 

The  art  of  conversation,  that  social  mode  of 
diffusing  kindness  and  knowledge,  he  considered  (, 
,o  be  one_pXill£J[aJu^bIe^a^  and  all  that 


taught  he  skilfully  and  gracefully  practised. 
When  he  spoke,  the  hearers  only  feared  that  he 
should  be-  silent,  yet  he  was  more  pleased  to 
isten  than  to  speak,  "glad  to  light  his  torch  at 
iny  man's  candle."  He  was  skilful  in  alluring 
us  company  to  discourse  upon  subjects  in  which 
they  were  most  conversant,  f  He  was  ever  happy 
to  commend,  and  unwilling  to  censure;  and  when 
le  could  not  assent  to  an  opinion,  he  would  set 
forth  its  ingenuity,  and  so  grace  and  adorn  it  by  his 
own  luminous  statement,  that  his  opponent  could 
not  feel  lowered  by  his  defeat. 

His  wit  was  brilliant,  and  when  it  flashed  upon 
any  subject,  it  was  never  with  ill-nature,  which,  ^ 
like  the  crackling  of  thorns,  ending  in  sudden 
darkness,  is  only  fit  for  a  fool's  laughter  ;  the 
sparkling  of  his  wit  was  that  of  the  precious 
diamond,  valuable  for  its  worth  and  weight,  de 
noting  the  riches  of  the  mine. 

He  had  not  any  children  ;  but,  says  Dr.  Rawley, 
"  the  want  of  children  did  not  detract  from  his 
good  usage  of  his  consort  d  uring  the  intermarriage, 
whom  he  prosecuted  with  much  conjugal  love  and 
respect,  with  many  rich  gifts  and  endowments, 
besides  a  robe  of  honour  which  he  invested  her 
withal,  which  she  wore  until  her  dying  day, 
being  twenty  years  and  more  after  his  death." 

He  was  religious,  and  died  in  the  faith  esta- 
tablished  in  the  church  of  England. 

Bacon  has  been  accused  of  servility,  of  dissi 
mulation,  of  various  base  motives,  and  their  filthy 
brood  of  base  actions,  all  unworthy  of  his  high 
birth,  and  incompatible  with  his  great  wisdom, 
and  the  estimation  in  which  he  was  held  by  the 
noblest  spirits  of  the  age.  It  is  true  that  there 
were  men  in  his  own  time,  and  will  be  men  in  all 
times,  who  are  better  pleased  to  count  spots  in 
the  sun  than  to  rejoice  in  its  glorious  brightness. 
Such  men  have  openly  libelled  him,  like  Dewes 
and  Weldon,  whose  falsehoods  were  detected  as 
soon  as  uttered,  or  have  fastened  upon  certain 
ceremonious  compliments  and  dedications,  the 
fashion  of  his  day,  as  a  sample  of  his  servility, 
passing  over  his  noble  letters  to  the  queen,  his 
lofty  contempt  for  the  Lord  Keeper  Puckering,  his 
open  dealing  with  Sir  Robert  Cecil,  and  with 


LIFE  OF  BACON. 


CXV1I 


others,  who,  powerful  when  he  was  nothing,  might 
have  blighted  his  opening  fortunes  forever,  for 
getting  his  advocacy  of  the  rights  of  the  people  in 
the  face  of  the  court,  and  the  true  and  honest 
counsels,  always  given  by  him,  in  times  of  great 
difficulty,  both  to  Elizabeth  and  her  successor. 
When  was  a  "base  sycophant"  loved  and  ho 
noured  by  piety  such  as  that  of  Herbert,  Tenison, 
and  Rawley,  by  noble  spirits  like  Hobbes,  Ben 
Jonson,  and  Selden,  or  followed  to  the  grave, 
and  beyond  it,  with  devoted  affection,  such  as  that 
of  Sir  Thomas  Meautys. 

Forced  by  the  narrowness  of  his  fortune  into 
business,  conscious  of  his  own  powers,  aware  of 
the  peculiar  quality  of  his  mind,  and  disliking  his 
pursuits,  his  heart  was  often  in  his  study,  while 
he  lent  his  person  to  the  robes  of  office  ;  and  he 
was  culpably  unmindful  of  the  conduct  of  his 
servants,  who  amassed  wealth  meanly  and  rapa 
ciously,  while  their  careless  master,  himself  al 
ways  poor,  with  his  thoughts  on  higher  ventures, 
never  stopped  to  inquire  by  what  methods  they 
grew  rich.  No  man  can  act  thus  with  impunity  j 
he  has  sullied  the  brightness  of  a  name  which 
ought  never  to  have  been  heard  without  reverence, 
injured  his  own  fame,  and  has  been  himself  the 
victim  upon  the  altar  which  he  raised  to  true 
science ;  becoming  a  theme  to  "point  a  moral  or 
adorn  a  tale,"  in  an  attempt  to  unite  philosophy 


and  politics,  an  idol,  whose  golden  head  and 
hands  of  base  metal  form  a  monster  more  hideous 
than  the  Dagon  of  the  Philistines. 

His  consciousness  of  the  wanderings  of  his 
mind  made  him  run  into  affairs  with  over-acted 
zeal  and  a  variety  of  useless  subtleties;  and  in 
lending  himself  to  matters  immeasurably  beneath 
him,  he  sometimes  stooped  too  low.  A  man' 
often  receives  an  unfortunate  bias  from  an  unjust 
censure.  Bacon,  who  was  said  by  Elizabeth  to 
be  without  knowledge  of  affairs,  and  by  Cecil  and 
Burleigh  to  be  unfit  for  business,  affected  through 
the  whole  of  his  life  an  over-refinement  in  trifles, 
and  a  political  subtlety  unworthy  of  so  great  a 
mind :  it  is  also  true  that  he  sometimes  seemed 
conscious  of  the  pleasure  of  skill,  and  that  he 
who  possessed  the  dangerous  power  of  "  working 
and  winding"  others  to  his  purpose,  tried  it  upon 
the  little  men  whom  his  heart  disdained  ;  but  that 
heart  was  neither  "  cloven  nor  double."  There  is 
no  record  that  he  abused  the  influence  which  he 
possessed  over  the  minds  of  all  men.  He  ever  gave 
honest  counsel  to  his  capricious  mistress,  and  her 
pedantic  successor;  to  the  rash,  turbulent  Essex, 
and  to  the  wily, Avaricious  Buckingham.  There  is 
nothing  more  lamentable  in  the  annals  of  mankind 
than  that  false  position,  which  placed  one  of  the 
greatest  minds  England  ever  possessed  at  the 
mercy  of  a  mean  king  and  a  base  court  favourite 


LORD    BACON'S    WORKS 


LORD    BACON'S    WORKS 


ESSAYS     OR     COUNSELS, 

CIVIL    AND     MORAL. 


TO  THE  RIGHT  HONORABLE  MY  VERY  GOOD  LO.  THE  DUKE  OF  BUCKINGHAM 
HIS  GRACE,  LO.  HIGH  ADMIRALL  OF  ENGLAND. 

EXCELLENT  Lo. 

Salomon  saies ;  A  good  name  is  as  a  precious  oyntment ;  and  I  assure  myselfe,  such  wil  your  Grace's 
name  bee,  with  posteritie.  For  your  fortune,  and  merit  both,  haue  beene  eminent.  And  you  haue 
planted  things,  that  are  like  to  last.  I  doe  now  publish  my  Essayes ;  which,  of  all  other  workes, 
have  beene  most  currant:  For  that,  as  it  seemes,  they  come  home,  to  mens  businesse,  and  bosomes. 
I  haue  enlarged  them,  both  in  number,  and  weight;  so  that  they  are  indeed  a  new  work.  I  thoup-ht 
it  therefore  agreeable,  to  my  affection,  and  obligation  to  your  Grace,  to  prefix  your  name  before 
them,  both  in  English,  and  in  Latine.  For  I  doe  conceiue,  that  the  Latine  Volume  of  them  (being 
in  the  Vniuersal  Language)  may  last,  as  long  as  Bookes  last.  My  Instauration,  I  dedicated  to  the 
King :  My  Historic  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  (which  I  haue  now  translated  into  Latine)  and  my 
Portions  of  Naturall  History,  to  the  Prince  :  And  these  I  dedicate  to  your  Grace  :  Being  of  the  best 
Fruits,  that  by  the  good  encrease,  which  God  gives  to  my  Pen  and  Labours,  I  could  yeeld.  God 
leade  your  Grace  by  the  Hand.  Your  Graces  most  Obliged  and  Faithful  Seruant, 

FR.  ST.  ALBAN. 


EDITORS    PREFACE 

TO 

1.  The  Essays.  3.  Filum  Labyrinthi. 

2.  Meditationes  Sacree.  4.  oequela  Chartarum. 

3.  The  Colours  of  Good  and  Evil.  5.  Miscellaneous  Tracts. 

4.  Miscellaneous  Tracts  upon  Human  Philoso-  1.  Apophthegmes. 

phy.  2.  Ornamenta  Rationalia. 

1.  In  Praise  of  Knowledge.  3.  Sentences. 

2.  Valerius  Terminus,  or  the  Interpreta-  4.  Notes  for  Conversation. 

tion  of  Nature.  5.  An  Essay  on  Death. 

§  1. 

THE  ESSAYS. 
The  first  edition  of  the  Essays  was  published  in  the  year  1597.     It  is  entitled1 

"  Essayes. 

Religious  Meditations. 
Places  of  perswasion  and 

disswasion. 
Scene  and  allowed. 

AT  LONDON, 

Printed  for  Humfrey  Hooper,  and  are 

to  be  sold  at  the  blacke  Beare 

in  Chauncery  Lane. 

1597." 

»  There  ia  a  copy  of  this  edition  at  Cambridge,  and  in  the  Bodleian. 
VOL.  I—I  A  1 


2  PREFACE. 

THE  EPISTLE  DEDICATORIE. 

"  To  M.  Anthony  Bacon  his  deare  Brother. 

"  Louing  and  beloued  brother  I  do  now  like  some  that  haue  an  Orcharde  il  neighbored,  that 
gather  their  fruit  before  it  is  ripe,  to  preuent  stealing.  These  fragments  of  my  conceits  were  going 
to  print :  To  labour  the  stay  of  them  had  bene  troublesome,  and  subiect  to  interpretation :  to  let 
them  passe  had  bin  to  aduentur  the  wrong  they  mought  receiue  by  vntrue  Coppies,  or  by  some 
garnishment  which  it  mought  please  any  one  that  shold  set  them  forth  to  bestow  upon  them. 
Therefore  I  heldc  it  best  discretion  to  publish  them  my  selfe  as  they  passed  long  agoe  from  my  pen 
without  any  further  disgrace,  then  the  weakenes  of  the  author.  And  as  I  did  euer  hold  there  mought 
be  ?s  gienv  a  vanitie  in  retyriug  and  withdrawing  mens  conceits  (except  they  be  of  some  nature) 
iron:  the  world;  as  -r>'  ob-rudrag  tiiem :  So  in  these  particulars  I  haue  played  my  selfe  the  inquisitor, 
and  find  nothing  to  my  vnderstanding  in  them  contrary,  or  infectious  to  the  state  of  Religion,  or 
manners,  but  rather  (as  I  suppose)  rnedicinable.  Onely  I  disliked  now  to  put  them  out,  because 
they  will  be  like  the  late  newe  halfepence,  which  though  the  siluer  were  good,  yet  the  pieces  were 
small.  But  since  they  would  not  stay  with  their  master,  but  wold  needs  trauel  abroad,  I  haue 
preferred  them  to  you,  that  are  next  myself,  dedicating  them,  such  as  they  are,  to  our  loue,  in  the 
depth  whereof  (I  assure  you)  I  somtimes  wish  your  infirmities  transslated  upon  my  selfe,  that  her 
maiesty  mought  haue  the  seruice  of  so  actiue  and  able  a  mind,  and  I  mought  bee  with  excuse  confined 
to  these  contemplations  and  studies  for  which  I  am  fittest,  so  commende  I  you  to  the  preseruation 
of  the  diuine  Maiestie.  From  my  Chamber  at  Grayes  Inne,  this  30.  of  January.  1597. 

"  Your  entire  louing  brother,  FRAN.  BACON." 

It  consists  of  ten  Essays. 

1.  OfStudie.  6.  OfExpence. 

2.  Of  Discourse.  7.  Of  Regiment  of  Health. 

3.  Of  Ceremonies  and  Respects.  8.  Of  Honor  and  Reputation. 

4.  Of  Followers  and  Friends.  9.  Of  Faction. 

5.  OfSutors.  10.  Of  Negotiating. 

These  Essays,  which  are  very  short,  are  in  octavo,  in  thirteen  double  pages,  and  somewhat  incor 
rectly  printed.1  They  are  annexed  as  Notes  at  the  end  of  the  Essays.2 

Of  this  edition  there  is  a  manuscript  in  very  ancient  writing  in  the  Lansdowne  MSS.  in  the 
British  Museum.3 

Tk-  ^ext  edition  was  in  the  year  1GOG.     It  is  entitled 

"  Essaies. 

Religious  Meditations. 
Places  of  perswasion 

and  disswasion. 

Scene  and  allowed. 

Printed  at  London  for  lohn  laggard, 

dwelling  in  Fleete  streete  at  the 

hand  and  Starre  neere 

Temple  barre. 

1606." 

This  edition,  which  is  in  12mo,4  and  not  paged,  is,  except  a  few  literal  variations,  a  transcript  of 
the  edition  of  1597.5 

»  The  Essay  (for  instance)  in  the  table  of  contents  is  "  Of  Suters,"  in  the  body  of  the  book  it  is  "  Of  Sutes:" 

*  See  note  L. 

s  The  reference  to  it  is  in  vol.  ii.  of  Catalogue,  page  173,  as  follows  : 

"  Essays  by  Lord  Bacon,  viz.  on  Studies,  Discourses,  Ceremonies,  and  Respects,  Followers  and  Friends,  Suitors,  Expense, 
Resrimen'of  Health,  Honor  and  Reputation,  Faction  and  Negotiating."  The  Catalogue  then  adds,  "  These  Essays  will  be 
found  to  vary  in  some  degree  from  the  printed  copies  and  especially  from  an  expensive  edition  of  Lord  Bacon's  works,  in 
which  the  Essays  appear  to  be  greatly  mutilated." 

It  is  probable  that  this  (although  groundless)  relates  to  the  edition  of  1730,  published  by  Blackburn.  It  may,  perhaps,  be 
doubtful  whether  this  is  a  MS.  of  the  edition  of  1597  or  of  1606;  but  the  first  Essay  in  the  edition  of  1587  says,  "  if  he 
conferre  little,  he  had  need  of  a  present  witt ;"  but  the  words  "he  had  need  of"  are  omitted  in  the  edition  of  IfiOG.  They 
are  however  in  the  MS.  in  the  Museum.  There  is  also  in  the  Harleiam  MSS.  6797,  a  MS.  of  two  Essays,  of  Faction  and 
^Negotiating,  with  cross  lines  drawn  through  them. 

*  I  have  a  copy  in  my  possession,  with  a  very  bad  engraving  of  Lord  Bacon  prefixed  above  the  following  lines  : 

"  Bacon,  his  Age's" Pride  and  Britann's  Glory 
Whose  Name  will  still  be  famous  in  her  story, 
Hauing  by's  works  Oblig'd  all  future  Ages 
To  pay  Him  Thanks  as  many  as  His  Pages, 
Having  well-weigh'd  each  Tittle  of  that  Praise, 
Found  a  great  part  arose  from  his  ESAIES." 

As  this  volume,  published  1606,  (three  years  after  the  death  of  his  brother  Anthony,)  contains  the  dedication  to  Anthony 
and  these  lines,  and  as  I  do  not  find  the  edition  mentioned  in  anj  of  his  letters  :  query,  was  it  published  by  the  author  or 
by  some  bookseller?  Jfc  "*-V 

»  For  instance ;  ths  dedication  in  1537  is  to  Mi,  Anthony  Bacon,  and  in  1606  it  is  to  Maister  Anthony  Bac<*n  :  and  the 
signature  in  15B7  is  Fran.  Bacon ;  in  UM)6  is  Francis  Bacoa. 


PREFACE.  3 

The  next  edition  was  in  1612.    It  is  entitled, 

"  The   Essaies 

Of  Sr  Francis  Bacon  Knight, 

The  King's  Solliciter  Generall. 

Imprinted  at  London  by 

lohn  Beale, 

1612." 

It  was  the  intention  of  Sir  Francis  to  have  dedicated  this  edition  to  Henry  Prince  of  Wales,  but 
he  was  prevented  by  the  death  of  the  prince  on  the  6th  of  November  in  that  year.  This  appears 
by  the  following  letter  : 

"  To  the  most  high  and  excellent  prince,  HENRY,  Prince  of  Wales,  Duke  of  Cornwall,  and  Earl  of 

Chester. 

"  It  may  please  your  Highness, 

"  Having  divided  my  life  into  the  contemplative  and  active  part,  I  am  desirous  to  give  his  majesty 
and  your  highness  of  the  fruits  of  both,  simple  though  they  be. 

44  To  write  just  treatises,  requireth  leisure  in  the  writer,  and  leisure  in  the  reader,  and  therefore 
are  not  so  fit,  neither  in  regard  of  your  highness's  princely  affairs,  nor  in  regard  of  my  continual 
service  ;  which  is  the  cause  that  hath  made  me  choose  to  write  certain  brief  notes,  set  down  rather 
significantly  than  curiously,  which  I  have  called  Essays.  The  word  is  late,  but  the  thing  is  ancient ; 
for  Seneca's  epistles  to  Lucilius,  if  you  mark  them  well,  are  but  essays,  that  is,  dispersed  meditations, 
though  conveyed  in  the  form  of  epistles.  These  labours  of  mine,  I  know,  cannot  be  worthy  of  your 
highness,  for  what  can  be  worthy  of  you  ?  But  my  hope  is,  they  may  be  as  grains  of  salt,  that  will 
rather  give  you  an  appetite,  than  offend  you  with  satiety.  And  although  they  handle  those  things 
wherein  both  men's  lives  and  their  persons  are  most  conversant ;  yet  what  I  have  attained  I  know 
not ;  but  I  have  endeavoured  to  make  them  not  vulgar,  but  of  a  nature,  whereof  a  man  shall  find 
much  in  experience,  and  little  in  books ;  so  as  they  are  neither  repetitions  nor  fancies.  But, 
however,  I  shall  most  humbly  desire  your  highness  to  accept  them  in  gracious  part,  and  to  conceive, 
that  if  I  cannot  rest,  but  must  shew  my  dutiful  and  devoted  affection  to  your  highness  in  these  things 
which  proceed  from  myself,  I  shall  be  much  more  ready  to  do  it  in  performance  of  any  of  your 
princely  commandments.  And  so  wishing  your  highness  all  princely  felicity  I  rest 

"  1612.  Your  Highness's  most  humble  servant,  FR.  BACON." 

It  was  dedicated  as  follows  : 

44  To  my  loving  Brother  Sr  IOHN  CONSTABLE  Knight.1 

44  My  last  "Essaies  I  dedicated  to  my  deare  brother  Master  Anthony  Bacon,  who  is  with  God. 
Looking  amongst  my  papers  this  vacation,  I  found  others  of  the  same  Nature  :  which  if  I  myselfe 
shall  not  suffer  to  be  lost,  it  seemeth  the  World  will  not;  by  the  often  printing  of  the  former. 
Missing  my  Brother,  I  found  you  next,  in  respect  of  bond  both  of  neare  alliance,  and  of  straight 
friendship  and  societie,  and  particularly  of  communication  in  studies.  Wherein  I  must  acknow 
ledge  my  selfe  beholding  to  you.  For  as  my  businesse  found  rest  in  my  contemplations ;  so  my 
contemplations  ever  found  rest  in  your  louing  conference  and  judgment.  So  wishing  you  all  good, 
I  remaine  Your  louing  brother  and  friend,  FRA.  BACON." 

The  Table  of  Essays  is, 

1.  Of  Religion.  13.  Of  Friendshippe. 

2.  Of  Death.  14.  Of  Atheisme. 

3.  Of  Goodnes  and  goodnes  of  nature.  15.  Of  Superstition. 

4.  Of  Cunning.  16.  Of  Wisdome  for  a  Man's  selfe. 

5.  Of  Marriage  and  single  life.  17.  Of  Regiment  of  Health. 

6.  Of  Parents  and  Children.  18.  Of  Expences. 

7.  Of  Nobilitie.  19.  Of  Discourse. 

8.  Of  Great  place.  20.  Of  Seeming  wise. 

9.  Of  Empire.  21.  Of  Riches. 

10.  Of  Counsell.  22.  Of  Ambition. 

11.  Of  Dispatch.  23.  Of  Young1  men  and  age. 

12.  Of  Loue.  24.  Of  Beautie. 

i  Francis  Bacon  married  Alice  Burnham,  and  Sir  John  Constable  married  her  sister  Dorothy  Burnham.  In  Lord  Bacon's 
will,  he  says,  Sir  John  Constable,  Knight,  my  brother-in-law;  and  he  nominates  him  as  one  of  his  executors. 


4  PREFACE. 

25.  Of  Deformitie.  33.  Of  Negotiating. 

26.  Of  nature  in  Man.  34.  Of  Faction. 

27.  Of  Custome  and  Education.  35.  Of  Praise. 

28.  Of  Fortune.  36.  Of  ludicature. 

29.  Of  Studies.  37.  Of  vaine  glory. 

30.  Of  Ceremonies  and  Respects.  38.  Of  greatnes  of  Kingdomes. 

31.  Of  Sutors.  39.  Of  the  publike. 

32.  Of  Followers.  40.  Of  Warre  and  peace. 

It  is  an  octavo  of  241  pages;  and  the  two  last  Essays  "Of  the  Publique,"  and  "Of  War  and 
Peace,"  although  mentioned  in  the  table  of  contents,  are  not  contained  in  the  body  of  the  work.1 

This  edition  contains  all  the  Essays  which  are  in  the  preceding  editions,  except  the  Essay  "  Of 
Honor  and  Reputation :"  and  the  title  in  the  former  editions  of  the  Essay  "  Of  Followers  and 
Friends,"  is  in  this  edition  "  Of  Followers,"  and  there  is  a  separate  Essay  "  Of  Friendship."  The 
Essays  in  Italics  are  in  the  former  editions. 

These  Essays  are  more  extensive  than  the  Essays  in  the  preceding  editions,  according  to  the 
manner  of  the  author,  who  says,  "  I  always  alter  when  I  add ;  so  that  nothing  is  finished  till  all  is 
finished."2  As  a  specimen,  the  Essay  "  Of  Study,"  in  the  first  edition  ends  with- the  words  "able 
to  contend."  The  edition  of  1612  is  the  same  as  the  former  edition,  but  it  thus  continues  "  Abeunt 
studia  in  mores ;"  "nay,  there  is  no  stond  or  impediment  in  the  wit,  but  may  be  wrought  out  by  fit 
studies :  like  as  diseases  of  the  body  may  have  appropriate  exercises ;  bowling  is  good  for  the  stone 
and  reins,  shooting  for  the  lungs  and  breast,  gentle  walking  for  the  stomach,  riding  for  the  head, 
and  the  like ;  so,  if  a  man's  wit  be  wandering,  let  him  study  the  mathematics ;  for  in  demonstra 
tions,  if  .his  wit  be  called  away  never  so  little,  he  must  begin  again ;  if  his  wit  be  not  apt  to  dis 
tinguish  or  find  differences,  let  him  study  the  schoolmen,  for  they  are  '  Cymini  sectores ;'  if  he  be 
not  apt  to  beat  over  matters,  and  to  call  upon  one  tiling  to  prove  and  illustrate  another,  let  him  study 
the  lawyers  cases;  so  every  defect  of  the  mind  may  have  a  special  receipt." 

The  next  edition  was  in  1613. 3     It  is  entitled, 

"The  Essaies 

Of  Sr  Francis  Bacon  Knight, 
The  Kings  Aturney  Generall. 

His  Religious  Meditations. 
Places  of  Perswasion  and  Disswasion. 

Scene  and  allowed. 

Printed  at  London  for  lohn  laggard,4 

dwelling  at  the  Hand  and  Starre, 

betweene  the  two  Temple 

Gates  1613." 

It  is  a  transcript  of  the  edition  of  1612,  with  the  erroneous  entries  in  the  table  of  contents  of  the 
two  Essays  "  Of  the  Publique"  and  "  Of  Warre  and  Peace,"  which  are  omitted  in  the  body  of  the 
work;  but  it  contains  a  transcript  from  the  editions  of  1597  and  1606,  of  the  Essay  "Of  Honor 
and  Reputation,"  which  is  omitted  in  the  edition  of  1612. 

In  the  year  1622,  in  his  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  concerning  his  published  and  intended 
writings,  he  says,  "  As  for  my  Essays,  and  some  other  particulars  of  that  nature,  I  count  them  but 
as  the  recreations  of  my  other  studies,  and  in  that  manner  purpose  to  continue  them ;  though  I  am 
not  ignorant  that  those  kind  of  writings  would,  with  less  pains  and  assiduity,  perhaps  yield  more 
lustre  and  reputation  to  my  name  than  the  others  I  have  in  hand;  but  I  judge  the  use  a  man  should 
seek  in  publishing  his  writings  before  his  death  to  be  but  an  untimely  anticipation  of  that  which  is 
proper  to  follow,  and  not  to  go  along  with  him." 

The  next  edition,  which  is  a  small  quarto  of  340  pages,  was  in  1625,5  and,  on  the  9th  of  April, 
1626,  Lord  Verulam  died. 

i  There  is  a  copy  in  the  British  Museum,  and  in  the  Bodleian  ;  and  I  have  a  copy. 

*  "  To  Mr.  Matthews  :  along  with  the  Book  De  Sapientia  Veterum.    I  Heartily  thank  you  for  your  Letter,  of  the  21th 
of  August,  from  Salamanca;  and,  in  recompence,  send  you  a  little  Work  of  mine,  that  has  begun  to  pass  the  World. 
They  tell  me  my  Latin  is  turned  into  Silver,  and  become  current.    Had  you  been  here,  you  shou'd  have  been  my  Inqui 
sitor,  before  it  came  forth :  but  I  think  the  greatest  Inquisitor  in  Spain  will  allow  it.     One  thing  you  must  pardon  me,  if  I 
make  no  haste  to  believe,  that  the  World  should  be  grown  to  such  an  Ecstasy,  as  to  reject  Truth  in  Philosophy,  because 
the  Author  dissents  in  Religion  ;  no  more  than  they  do  by  Aristotle  or  Averroes.     My  great  Work  goes  forward ;  and  after 
my  manner,  I  always  alter  when  I  add  :  So  that  nothing  is  finish'd  'till  all  is  finish'd.     This  I  have  wrote  in  the  midst  of  a 
Term  and  Parliament;  thinking  no  time  so  possess'd,  but  that  I  should  talk  of  these  Matters  with  so  good  and  dear  a 
Friend.—  Gray's- Inn,  Feb.  27,  1610." 

s  There  is  a  copy  in  the  Bodleian,  and  I  have  a  copy. 

*  This  is  the  same  bookseller  who  published  the  edition  of  1606. 

«  There  is  a  copy  in  the  British  Museum  and  at  Cambridge,  and  the  copies  are  not  uncommon. 


PREFACE.  5 

It  is  entitled, 

"The  Essayes  or  Covnsels  Civill  and  Morall, 
Of  Francis  Lo.  Vervlam,  Viscovnt  St.  Alban. 

Newly  written. 

London,  Printed  by  lohn  Haviland  for 
Hanna  Barret.     1625." 

The  Essays  contained  in  the  volume  now  published  are  an  exact  transcript  of  this  edition  of  1625, 
except  that  I  have  added  the  note  in  page  43. 

Of  this  edition,  Lord  Bacon  sent  a  copy  to  the  Marquis  Fiat.1 

There  is  a  Latin  edition  of  the  Essays  consisting  of  the  Essays  in  the  edition  of  1625,  except  the 
two  Essays  of  Prophecies,  and  of  Masks  and  Triumphs,  which  seem  not  to  have  been  translated. 

The  nature  of  the  Latin  edition  and  of  the  Essays  in  general  is  thus  stated  by  Archbishop  Te- 
nison.3 

"The  Essays,  or  Counsels  Civil  and  Moral,  though  a  By-work  also,  do  yet  make  up  a  Book  of 
greater  weight  by  far,  than  the  Apothegms  :  And  coming  home  to  Men's  Business  and  Bosomes, 
his  Lordship  entertain'd  this  persuasion  concerning  them,  that  the  Latine  Volume  might  last  as  long 
as  Books  should  last.  His  Lordship  wrote  them  in  the  English  Tongue,  and  enlarged  them  as 
Occasion  serv'd,  and  at  last  added  to  them  the  Colours  of  Good  and  Evil,  which  are  likewise  found 
in  his  Book  De  Augmentis.  The  Latine  Translation  of  them  was  a  Work  performed  by  divers 
Hands ;  by  those  of  Doctor  Hacket  (late  Bishop  of  Lichfield)  Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson  (the  learned 
and  judicious  Poet)  and  some  others,  whose  Names  I  once  heard  from  Dr.  Rawley;  but  I  cannot 
now  recal  them.  To  this  Latine  Edition,  he  gave  the  Title  of  Sermones  Fideles,  after  the  manner 
of  the  Jews,  who  call'd  the  words  Adagies,  or  Observations  of  the  Wise,  Faithful  Sayings  :~that  is, 
credible  Propositions  worthy  of  firm  Assent,  and  ready  Acceptance.  And  (as  I  think)  he  alluded 
more  particularly,  in  this  Title,  to  a  passage  in  Ecclesiastes,  where  the  Preacher  saith  that  he  sought 
to  find  out  Verba  Delectabilia,  (as  Tremellius  rendreth  the  Hebrew)  pleasant  Words,  (that  is,  perhaps, 
his  Book  of  Canticles;)  and  Verba  Fidelia  (as  the  same  Tremellius)  Faithful  Sayings;  meaning. 
it  may  be,  his  Collection  of  Proverbs.  In  the  next  Verse,  he  calls  them  Words  of  the  Wise,  and 
so  many  Goads  and  Nails  given  '  Ab  eodem  Pastore,'  from  the  same  Shepherd  [of  the  Flock  of 
Israel."]  And  of  this  translation,  Bacon  speaks  in  the  following  letter. 

"To  Mr.  TOBIE  MATTHEW. 

"  It  is  tru  j,  my  labours  are  now  most  set  to  have  those  works,  which  I  had  formerly  published,  as 
that  of  Advancement  of  Learning,  that  of  Hen.  VII.  that  of  the  Essays,  being  retractate,  and  made 
more  perfect,  well  translated  into  Latin  by  the  help  of  some  good  pens,  which  forsake  me  not.  For 
these  modern  languages  will,  at  one  time  or  other,  play  the  bankrupt  with  books  :  and  since  I  have 
lost  much  time  with  this  age,  I  would  be  glad,  as  God  shall  give  me  leave,  to  recover  it  with  pos 
terity. 

"  For  the  Essay  of  Friendship,  while  I  took  your  speech  of  it  for  a  cursory  request,  I  took  my 
promise  for  a  compliment.  But  since  you  call  for  it,  I  shall  perform  it." 

In  his  letter3  to  Father  Fulgentio,  giving  some  account  of  his  writings,  he  says,  "  The  Novum  Or- 
ganum  should  immediately  follow,  but  my  Moral  and  Political  writings  step  in  between  as  being 
more  finished.  These  are  the  History  of  King  Henry  the  Seventh,  and  the  small  Book,  which  in 
your  language  you  have  called  Saggi  Morali,  but  I  give  it  a  graver  title,  that  of  Sermones  Fideles, 
or  Interiora  Rerum,  and  these  Essays  will  not  only  be  enlarged  in  number  but  still  more  in  sub 
stance." 

«  Baconiana,  201. — "A  Letter  of  the  Lord  Bacon's,  in  French,  to  the  Marquis  Fiat,  relating  to  his  Essays." 

"  Monsieur  1'Ambassadenr  mon  File, 

"  Voyant  que  vostre  Excellence  faict  et  traite  Mariages,  non  seulement  entre  les  Princes  d'  Angleterre  et  de  France, 
mais  aitssi  entre  les  Langues  (puis  que  faictes  traduire  non  Liure  de  1'  Advancement  des  Sciences  en  Francois)  i'  ai  bien 
voulu  vous  envoyer  mon  Liure  dernierement  imprime  que  i'  avois  pourveu  pour  vous,  mais  i'  estois  en  doubte,  de  le  vous 
envoyer,  pour  ce  qu'  il  estoit  escrit  en  Anglois.  Mais  a'  cest'  Ileure  poure  la  raison  susdicte  ie  le  vous  envoye.  C'  est 
11  n  Reconcilement  de  mes  Essays  Morales  et  Civile? ;  mais  tellement  enlargies  et  enrichies,  tant  de  Nombre  que  de  Poix, 
que  c'  est  de  fait  un  Oeuvre  nouveau.  Ie  vous  baise  les  Mains,  et  reste, 

"  Vostre  tres  Affectionee  Ami,  ex  tres  humble  Serviteur." 

"The  same  in  English,  by  the  Publisher. 
"My  Lord  Embassador,  my  Son, 

"Seeing  that  your  Excellency  makes  and  treats  of  Marriages,  not  only  betwixt  the  Princes  of  France  and  England,  but 
also  betwixt  their  Languages  (for  you  have  caus'd  my  Book  of  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  to  be  Translated  into 
French)  I  was  muck  inclin'd  to  make  you  a  Present  of  the  last  Book  which  I  published,  and  which  I  had  in  readiness  for 
yon. 

"  I  was  sometimes  in  doubt,  whether  I  ought  to  have  sent  it  to  you,  because  it  was  written  in  the  English  Tongue.  But 
now,  f"r  that  very  Reason,  I  send  it  to  you.  It  is  a  Reconcilement  of  my  Essaies  Moral,  and  Civil ;  but  in  such  manner 
enlarged  arid  enriched  both  in  Number  and  Weight,  that  it  is  in  effect,  a  new  Work.  I  kiss  your  hands,  and  remain 

Your  most  Affectionate  friend  and  most  humble  Servant,  &.C. 
»  Buconiuna,  page  60.  a  ibid,  page  196. 


6  PREFACE. 

I  have  annexed  an  Appendix1  containing  "  A  fragment  of  an  Essay  of  Fame,"  which  was  pub 
lished  by  Dr.  Rawley  in  his  Resuscitatio :  and  "Of  a  King,"3  which  was  published  in  1648,  in  a 
volume  entitled  "Remains,"  which  also  contains  an  Essay  "On  Death."  This  Essay  I  have  in 
serted  in  page  131  of  this  volume.3 

During  the  life  of  Bacon,  various  editions  of  the  Essays  were  published  and  in  different  languages  : 
in  1618,  in  Italian  :4  in  1619,  in  French  :5  in  1621,  in  Italian,6  and  in  French.7 

Since  Lord  Bacon's  death,  the  press  has  abounded  with  editions.  In  some  of  these  editions  the 
editors  have  substituted  their  own  translations  of  the  Latin  for  the  beautiful  English  by  Lord  Bacon. 
How  well  they  have  succeeded  the  reader  may  judge  by  the  following  specimens.  In  a  translation 
published  by  william  H.  Willymott,  LL.I).,  A.  D.  1720,  he  says,  "Wanting  an  English  Book 
ibr  my  Scholars  to  Translate,  which  might  improve  them  in  Sense  and  Latin  at  once,  (Two  Things 
which  should  never  be  divided  in  Teaching)  I  thought  nothing  more  proper  for  that  purpose  than 
Bacon's  Essays,  prorided  the  English,  which  is  in  some  Places  grown  obselete,  were  a  little  re 
formed,  and  made  more  fashionable.  Accordingly  having  by  me  his  Lordship's  Latin  Volume  of 
the  Essays,  (which  as  it  was  a  later,  so  seems  to  be  a  perfecter  Book)  I  fell  to  Translating  it,  not 
tying  myself  strictly  to  the  Latin,  but  comparing  both  Languages  together,  and  setting  down  that 
Sense  (where  there  was  any  Difference)  that  seem'd  the  fullest  and  plainest." 

The  following  is  a  specimen  : 

Dr.  Willymott.  Lord  Bacon. 

"  The  principal  Virtue  of  Prosperity,  is  Tern-  "  But  to  speak  in  a  mean,  the  virtue  of  pros- 

perance ;  of  Adversity,  Fortitude ;  which  in  Mo-  perity  is  temperance,  the  virtue  of  adversity  is 

rals  is  reputed  the  most  heroical  Virtue.     Again,  fortitude,  which  in  morals  is  the  more  heroical 

Prosperity  belongs  to  the  Blessings  of  the  Old  virtue.     Prosperity  is  the  blessing  of  the  Old 

Testament;  Adversity  to  the  Beatitudes  of  the  Testament,  adversity  is  the  blessing  of  the  New, 

New,  which   are  both   in   Reality  greater,  and  which  carrieth  the  greater  benediction,  and  the 

carry  a  clearer  Revelation  of  the  Divine  Favour,  clearer  revelation  of  God's  favour.     Yet  even  in 

Yet,  even  in  the  Old  Testament,  if  you  listen  to  the   Old  Testament,  if  you    listen  to    David's 

David's  Harp,  you'll  find  more  lamentable  Airs,  harp,  you  shall  hear  as  many  herse-like  airs  as 

than  Triumphant  ones."  carols." 

So  too  Shaw  has  made  a  similar  attempt,  of  which  the  following  is  a  specimen,  from  the  Essay 
44  Of  Goodness  and  Goodness  of  Nature." 

Lord  Bacon.  Dr.  Shaw. 

"The  parts  and  signs  of  goodness  are  many.  " There  are  several  parts  and  signs  of  goodness. 

If  a  man  be  gracious  and  courteous  to  strangers,  If  a  man  be  civil  and  courteous  to  strangers,  it 

it  shews  he  is  a  citizen  of  the  world,  and  that  his  shews  him  a  citizen  of  the  world,  whose  heart  is 

heart  is  no  island  cut  off  from  other  lands,  but  no  island  cut  off  from  other  lands,  but  a  continent 

a  continent  that  joins  to  them;  if  he  be  compas-  that  joins  them.     If  he  be  compassionate  to  the 

sionate  towards  the  afflictions  of  others,  it  shews  afflicted,  it  shews  a  noble  soul,  like  the  tree  which 

that   his    heart   is    like  the  noble  tree  that  is  is  wounded  when  it  gives  the  balm.     If  he  easily 

wounded  itself  when  it  gives  the  balm :  if  he  pardons  and  forgives  offences,  it  shews  a  mind 

easily  pardons  and  remits  offences,  it  shews  that  perched  above  the  reach  of  injuries.     If  he  be 

his  mind  is  planted  above  injuries,  so  that  he  can-  thankful  for  small  benefits,  it  shews  he  values 

not  be  shot;  if  he  be  thankful  for  small  benefits,  men's  minds  before  their  treasure." 
it  shews  that  he  weighs  men's  minds,  and  not 
their  trash." 

§  2. 

MEDITATIONES  SACR^E- 

The  first  and,  I  believe,  the  only  edition  of  this  tract  which  was  published  in  Latin  by  Lord  Bacon, 
appeared  in  1597.  During  his  life,  and  since  his  death,  it  has  been  frequently  reprinted.  If  the 
reader  will  compare  the  Meditation  upon  Atheism,  in  page  70.  with  the  Essay  on  Atheism,  page  24 
and  his  observation  upon  Atheism,  in  page  164,  he  will  see  that  these  Meditations  are  but  the  seeds 

1  See  end  of  Essays. 

s  There  is  a  manuscript  of  this  Essay  in  the  Lansdown  Collection,  B.  Museum,  135, 136.  In  Blackburn's  edition  of  Bacon's 
Works,  published  in  1640,  he  says,  "  I  have  inserted  from  the  Remains,  an  Essay  of  a  King  :  and  my  reason  is,  it  is  so  col 
lated  and  corrected  by  Archbishop  Sancroft's  well  known  hand,  that  it  appears  to  be  a  new  work ;  and  though  it  consists 
of  short  propositions  mostly,  yet  I  will  be  so  presumptuous  as  to  say,  that  I  think  it  now  breathes  the  true  spirit  of  our 
author;  and  there  seems  to  be  an  obvious  reason  why  it  was  omitted  before." 

s  There  is  a  MS.  of  this  in  the  Harleiam  MS.  Vol.  ii.  p.  196. 

*  Essays,  Italice,  8vo.    B.  Museum  and  Oxford. 

s  Essays  Moraux,  par  Gorges.    B.  Museum  and  Oxford. 

«  Sagsl  Morali,  opera  nuova  de  F.  Bacon  corretta  a  data  en  luce  dal.  Sig.  Andr :  Croli  et  un  tributo,  24mo.    B,  Museum 

"<  Essais  trad,  en  Francois  par  Bandouin,  IGmo.  Paris.    B.  Museum. 


PREFACE.  7 

of  his  opinions  upon  this  important  subject.  The  sentiments  and  the  very  words  are  similar.  In 
the  Meditation,  he  says,  "This  I  dare  affirm  in  knowledge  of  nature,  that  a  little  natural  philosophy, 
and  the  first  entrance  into  it,  doth  dispose  the  opinion  to  atheism ;  but  on  the  other  side,  much  na 
tural  philosophy  and  wading  deep  into  it  will  bring  about  men's  minds  to  religion ;  wherefore  athe 
ism  every  way  seems  to  be  joined  and  combined  with  folly  and  ignorance,  seeing  nothing  can  be 
more  justly  allotted  to  be  the  saying  of  fools,  than  this,  '  There  is  no  God.'  " 

In  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  he  says,  "  It  is  an  assured  truth,  and  a  conclusion  of  experience, 
that  a  little  or  superficial  knowledge  of  philosophy  may  incline  the  mind  of  man  to  atheism,  but  a 
further  proceeding  therein  doth  bring  the  mind  back  again  to  religion ;  for  in  the  entrance  of  philo 
sophy,  when  the  second  causes,  which  are  next  unto  the  senses,  do  offer  themselves  to  the  mind  of 
man,  if  it  dwell  and  stay  there,  it  may  induce  some  oblivion  of  the  highest  cause ;  but  when  a  man 
passeth  on  farther,  and  seeth  the  dependence  of  causes,  and  the  works  of  Providence,  then,  accord 
ing  to  the  allegory  of  the  poets,  he  will  easily  believe  that  the  highest  link  of  nature's  chain  must 
needs  be  tied  to  the  foot  of  Jupiter's  chair." 

§  3. 
THE  COLOURS  OF  GOOD  AND  EVIL. 

This  tract  was  published  by  Lord  Bacon  in  1597, *  and  has  been  repeatedly  published  by  different 
editors.  It  was  incorporated  in  the  treatise  on  rhetoric,  in  the  Advancement  of  Learning,3  and  more 
extensively  in  the  treatise  "  De  Augmentis."  The  dedication,  of  which  there  is  a  MS.3  in  the 
British  Museum,  to  the  Lord  Mountjoye, is  copied  from  "The  Remains,"  published  by  Stephens.4 

§  4. 
PRAISE  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

This  tract  "In  Praise  of  Knowledge,"  of  which  there  is  a  MSS.  in  the  British  Museum,5  is  a 
rudiment  both  of  the  "  Advancement  of  Learning,"  and  of  the  "  Novum  Organum."  This  will 
appear  from  the  following  extracts : 

PRAISE  OF  KNOWLEDGE,  PAGE    79     OF  THIS  VOL. 

"  The  truth  of  being,  and  the  truth  of  knowing,  is  all  one :  and  the  pleasures  of  the  affections 
greater  than  the  pleasures  of  the  senses.  And  are  not  the  pleasures  of  the  intellect  greater  than  the 
pleasures  of  the  affections  1  Is  it  not  a  true  and  only  natural  pleasure,  whereof  there  is  no  satiety  1 
Is  it  not  knowledge  that  doth  alone  clear  the  mind  of  all  perturbations'?" 

ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING,  PAGE  183  OF  THIS  VOL. 

"  The  pleasure  and  delight  of  knowledge  and  learning  far  surpasseth  all  other  in  nature ;  for, 
shall  the  pleasures  of  the  affections  so  exceed  the  senses,  as  much  as  the  obtaining  of  desire  or  vic 
tory  exceedeth  a  song  or  a  dinner ;  and  must  not,  of  consequence,  the  pleasures  of  the  intellect  or 
understanding  exceed  the  pleasures  of  the  affections'?  We  see  in  all  other  pleasures  there  is  a 
satiety,  and  after  they  be  used,  their  verdure  departeth ;  which  sheweth  well  they  be  but  deceits  of 
pleasure,  and  not  pleasures ;  and  that  it  was  the  novelty  which  pleased,  and  not  the  quality :  and 
therefore  we  see  that  voluptuous  men  turn  friars,  and  ambitious  princes  turn  melancholy.  But  of 
knowledge  there  is  no  satiety,  but  satisfaction  and  appetite  are  perpetually  interchangeable." 

PRAISE  OF  KNOWLEDGE,  PAGE    80    OF  THIS  VOL. 

"Printing,  a  gross  invention;  artillery,  a  thing  that  lay  not  far  out  of  the  way;  the  needle,  a 
thing  partly  known  before :  what  a  change  have  these  three  things  made  in  the  world  in  these  times ; 
the  one  in  state  of  learning,  the  "other  in  state  of  the  war,  the  third  in  the  state  of  treasure,  commo 
dities,  and  navigation1?" 

NOVUM  ORGANUM,  PART  I.  APH.   129. 

"  Rursus,  vim  et  virtutem  et  consequentias  Rerum  inventarum  notare  juvat :  quae  non  in  aliis 
manifestius  occurrunt,  quam  in  illis  tribus,  qua?  Antiquis  incognitae,  et  quarum  primordia,  licet  re- 
centia,  obscura  et  ingloria^sunt :  Artis  nimirum  Imprimendi,  Pulveris  Tormentarii,  et  Acus  Nau- 

»  "  Of  the  Coulours  of  good  and  eviil  a  fragment.    1597."    At  the  end,  and  after  the  word"  Finis,"  in  this  old  edition  is, 
"Printed  at  London  by  John  Windet  for  Humfrey  Hooper.     1597." 
a  See  page  217. 

*  Harleian  6797,  and  there  is  a  page  or  two  of  the  work  itself. 
«  But  I  do  not  find  it  prefixed  to  the  work. 

•  Harleian  MSS.  6797. 


8  PREFACE. 

ticae.  Haec  enim  tria,  rerum  faciem  et  statum  in  Orbe  terramm  mutaverunt:  primum,  in  Re  Lite- 
laria;  secundum,  in  Re  Bellica :  tertium,  in  Navigationibus :  Unde  innumerae  rerum  mutationes 
sequutae  sunt,  ut  non  imperium  aliquod,  non  Secta,  non  Stella  majorem  efficaciam  et  quasi  influxum 
super  res  humanas  exercuisse  videatur,  quam  ista  Mechanica  exercuerunt."1 

§5. 
VALERIUS  TERMINUS. 

This  too  is  clearly  a  rudiment  of  the  "Advancement  of  Learning,"  as  may  be  perceived  almost 
in  every  page :  for  instance,  by  comparing,  of  this  volume, 

Page        -        -  82  with  page         -        -     161. 

Page  85  with  pages       -     172,  174. 

Page        -        -          85  with  page         -        -     173. 

It  is  also  a  rudiment  of  the  "  Novum  Organum."  In  page  89  of  this  volume,  he  says,  "Let  the 
effect  to  be  produced  be  whiteness ;  let  the  first  direction  be,  that  if  air  and  water  be  intermingled, 
or  broken  in  small  portions  together,  whiteness  will  ensue,  as  in  snow,  in  the  breaking  of  the  waves3 
of  the  sea,  and  rivers,  and  the  like." 

In  the  "  Novum  Organum,"  under  the  head  of  travelling  instances,  he  says,  "  To  give  an  example 
of  a  travelling  instance;  suppose  the  nature  inquired  after  were  whiteness,  an  instance  advancing 
to  generation  is  glass,  whole,  and  in  powder ;  and  again,  simple  water,  and  water  beat  into  froth ; 
for  whole  glass,  and  simple  water,  are  transparent  bodies,  not  white;  but  powdered  glass,  and  the 
froth  of  water,  are  white,  not  transparent." 

§  6. 
FILUM  LABYRINTHI. 

The  tract  entitled  "Filum  Labyrinthi,"3  of  which  there  is  a  MSS.  in  the  British  Museum,4  seems 
to  have  been  the  rudiment  of  the  tract  in  Latin  in  Gruter's  collection,  entitled  «'  Cogitata  et  Visa,"5 
the  three  first  sections  containing  the  same  sentiments  in  almost  the  same  words. 

That  it  is  a  rudiment  of  the  "Advancement  of  Learning"  is  manifest,  as  will  appear  by  comparing 
the  beautiful  passage  in  page  165  with  the  following  sentence  in  page  97  of  this  volume,  "He 
thought  also,  that  knowledge  is  almost  generally  sought  either  for  delight  and  satisfaction,  or  for 
gain  or  profession,  or  for  credit  and  ornament,  and  that  every  of  these  are  as  Atalanta's  balls,  which 
hinder  the  race  of  invention." 

It  is  also  a  rudiment  of  the  Novum  Organum.  Speaking  of  universities,  he  says,  in  page  98  of 
this  volume,  "In  universities  and  colleges  men's  studies  are  almost  confined  to  certain  authors,  from 
which  if  any  dissenteth  or  propoundeth  matter  of  redargution,  it  is  enough  to  make  him  thought  a 
person  turbulent ;  whereas  if  it  be  well  advised,  there  is  a  great  difference  to  be  made  between 
matters  contemplative  and  active.  For  in  government  change  is  suspected,  though  the  better ;  but 
it  is  natural  to  arts  to  be  in  perpetual  agitation  and  growth.  Neither  is  the  danger  alike  of  new 
light,  and  of  new  motion  or  remove." 

In  the  Novum  Organum  he  says,  (Aph.  90,)  "Again  in  the  customs  and  institutions  of  schools, 
universities,  colleges,  and  the  like  conventions,  destined  for  the  seats  of  learned  men,  and  the 
promotion  of  knowledge,  all  things  are  found  opposite  to  the  advancement  of  the  sciences  ;  for  the 
readings  and  exercises  are  here  so  managed,  that  it  cannot  easily  come  into  any  one's  mind  to  think 
of  things  out  of  the  common  road.  Or  if  here  and  there  one  should  use  a  liberty  of  judging,  he  can 
only  impose  the  task  upon  himself,  without  obtaining  assistance  from  his  fellows  ;  and  if  he  could 
dispense  with  this,  he  will  still  find  his  industry  and  resolution  a  great  hindrance  to  the  raising  of 
his  fortune.  For  the  studies  of  men  in  such  places  are  confined,  and  pinned  down  to  the  writings 
of  certain  authors ;  from  which,  if  any  man  happens  to  differ,  he  is  presently  reprehended  as  a 
disturber  and  innovator.  But  there  is  surely  a  great  difference  between  arts  and  civil  affairs  ;  for 
the  danger  is  not  the  same  from  new  light,  as  from  new  commotions.  In  civil  affairs,  it  is  true,  a 
change  even  for  the  better  is  suspected,  through  fear  of  disturbance  ;  because  these  affairs  depend 
upon  authority,  consent,  reputation,  and  opinion,  and  not  upon  demonstrations :  but  arts  and  sciences 

f    i  Shaw's  translation  : — 

"Again,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  observe  the  power,  the  efficacy,  and  the  consequences  of  inventions,  which  appear 
no  where  plainer,  than  in  those  three  particulars,  unknown  to  the  ancients,  and  whose  origins,  though  modern,  are  obscure 
and  inglorious,  viz.  the  art  of  printing,  gunpowder,  and  the  compass,  which  have  altered  the  state  of  the  world,  and  given 
it  a  new  face  ;  1.  With  regard  to  learning;  2.  With  regard  to  war;  and,  3.  With  regard  to  navigation.  Whence  number 
less  vicissitudes  of  things  have  ensued,  insomuch  that  no  empire,  no  sect,  no  celestial  body,  could  seem  to  have  a  greater 
efficacy,  and,  as  it  were,  influence  over  human  affairs  than  these  three  mechanical  inventions  have  had." 

a  I  have  ventured  in  this  preface  to  substitute  "waves"  for  ways. 

8  "  Scala  Intellectus,  sive  Filum  Labyrinthi,"  is  the  title  of  the  fourth  part  of  the  "Instauratio." 

•  Catalogue  Harleian,  vol.  iii.  page  397.     Art.  6797. 

*  These  will  be  explained  hereafter. 


PREFACE.  9 

should  be  like  mines,  resounding  on  all  sides  with  new  works,  and  farther  progress.  And  thus  it 
ought  to  be,  according  to  right  reason ;  but  the  case,  in  fact,  is  quite  otherwise.  For  the  above- 
mentioned  administration  and  policy  of  schools  and  universities  generally  opposes  and  greatly 
prevents  the  improvement  of  the  sciences." 

It  is  not  the  correctness  of  these  opinions  respecting  universities,  which  is  now  attempted  to  be 
investigated.  The  only  object  is  to  explain  the  similarity  of  the  sentiments  in  this  tract,  entitled 
"  Valerius  Terminus,"  and  the  "  Novum  Organum  ;"  but  it  seems  not  undeserving  observation  that 
this  opinion  must  have  been  entertained  by  him  very  early  in  life,  probably  when  resident,  in 
Cambridge,  which  he  quitted  soon  after  he  was  sixteen  years  of  age,  when  the  torpor  of  university 
pursuits  would  ill  accord  with  his  active  mind,  anxious  only  to  invent  and  advance.  At  this  early 
period,  he,  without  considering  whether  universities  are  not  formed  rather  for  diffusing  the  knowledge 
of  our  predecessors,  than  for  the  discovery  of  unexplored  truths ;  without  considering  the  evil  of 
youthful  attempts  not  to  believe  first  what  others  know,  would  naturally  feel  "  that  in  the  universities 
of  Europe  they  learn  nothing  but  to  believe :  first,  to  believe  that  others  know  that  which  they 
know  not;  and  after,  themselves  know  that  which  they  know  not."  He  would  naturally  enough 
say,  "  They  are  like  a  becalmed  ship  ;  they  never  move  but  by  the  wind  of  other  men's  breath, 
and  have  no  oars  of  their  own  to  steer  withal."  But  this  opinion,  thus  early  impressed  upon  his 
mind,  seems  to  have  been  regulated  in  the  year  1605,  when  he  published  the  Advancement  of  Learn 
ing,  and  where,  in  his  tract  upon  universities,  after  having  enumerated  many  of  their  defects,  he 
says,  "The  last  defect  which  I  will  note  is,  that  there  hath  not  been,  or  very  rarely  been,  any 
public  designation  of  writers  or  inquirers  concerning  such  parts  of  knowledge  as  may  appear  not 
to  have  been  already  sufficiently  laboured  or  undertaken."1 

§  7. 
DE  CALORE  ET  FRIGORE. 

This  is  obviously  the  rudiment  of  the  Affirmative  Table  in  the  Novum  Organum. 

§  8. 
HELPS  FOR  INTELLECTUAL  POWERS. 

The  tract  entitled  »  Helps  for  Intellectual  Powers,"  was  published  by  Rawley  in  his  Resuscitatio, 
in  1657. 

In  a  letter  from  Gruter  to  Dr.  Rawley,  dated  July  1,  1659,  and  thanking  him  for  a  present  of 
Lord  Bacon's  Posthumous  Works,  in  Latin,  (probably  Opuscula  cum  Vita,  published  in  1658,)  he 
says,  "  one  paper  I  wonder  I  saw  not  amongst  them,  '  The  Epistle  of  the  Lord  Bacon  to  Sir  Henry 
Savil,  about  the  Helps  of  the  Intellectual  Powers,'  spoken  of  long  ago  in  your  letters  under  that, 
or  some  such  title,  if  my  memory  does  not  deceive  me.  If  it  was  not  forgotten  and  remains  among 
your  private  papers,  I  should  be  glad  to  see  a  copy  of  it,  in  the  use  of  which,  my  faithfulness  shall  not 
be  wanting.  But,  perhaps,  it  is  written  in  the  English  tongue,  and  is  a  part  of  that  greater  volume, 
which  contains  only  his  English  works."2 

§  9- 
THE  APOPHTHEGMES. 

In  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  Bacon  divides  the  Appendices  to  History  into — 1.  Memorials. 
2.  Epistles.  3.  Apophthegmes.  And,  after  lamenting  the  loss  of  Cassar's  book  of  Apophthegmes, 
he  says,  "  as  for  those  which  are  collected  by  others,  either  I  have  no  taste  in  such  matters,  or  else 
their  choice  hath  not  been  happy :"  but  yet  it  seems  that  he  had  stored  his  mind  with  a  collection  of 
these  "  Mucrones  Verborum,"  as,  for  his  recreation  in  his  sickness  in  the  year  preceding  his  death, 
he  fanned  the  old,  and  dictated  what  he  thought  worth  preservation. 

Archbishop  Tenison,  in  his  Baconiana,  page  47,  says, 

"  The  Apophthegmes  (of  which  the  first3  is  the  best  Edition)  were  (what  he  saith  also4  of  his 
Essays)  but  as  the  Recreations  of  his  other  Studies.  They  were  dictated  one  morning,  out  of  his 
memory  ;  and  if  they  seem  to  any,  a  birth  too  inconsiderable  for  the  brain  of  so  great  a  man  ;  they 
may  think  with  themselves  how  little  a  time  he  went  with  it,  and  from  thence  make  some  allowance. 
Besides,  his  lordship  hath  received  much  injury  by  late  editions,5  of  which  some  have  much 
enlarged,  but  not  at  all  enriched  the  collection ;  stuffing  it  with  tales  and  sayings,  too  infacetious  for 
a  ploughman's  chimney-corner.  And  particularly,  in  the  collection  not  long  since  published,6  and 

i  See  his  New  Atlantis. 

»  See  the  original  in  Latin,  with  the  translation  from  which  this  extract  is  copied  in  the  Baconiana,  239,  240,  and  note 
was  right  in  this  supposition. 

*  Apoth.  printed   in   Oct.   Lon.   1625.    The  title  page  of  this  edition  is  "Apophthegmes,  New  and  Old,  collated  by  tl 
Right  Honorable  Francis  Lo.  Verulam,  Visconnt  St.  Alban.— London  :    printed  for  Hanna  Barret  and  Richard  WhittaKer, 
and  are  to  be  sold  at  the  King's  Head  in  Paul's  Church.  1625."  .     , 

*  See  his  Epistle  to  Bishop  Andrews.  *  Even  by  that  added  (but  not  by  Dr.  Rawley)  to  the  Resuscitatio.— Uacomana. 
«  In  Octavo.  Lon.  1069. 

VOL.  I.— 2 


10  PREFACE. 

call'd  The  Apofj^gms  of  King  James,  King1  Charles,  the  Marquess  of  Worcester,  the  Lord  Bacon, 
and  Sir  ThomasiMoor ;  his  Lordship  is  dealt  with  very  rudely.  For  besides  the  addition  of  insipid 
tales,  there  are  sume  put  in  which  are  beastly  and  immoral:1  such  as  were  fitter  to  bejoyned  to 
Aretine,  or  Aloysia,  than  to  have  polluted  the  chaste  labours  of  the  Baron  of  Verulam." 

And  Stephens,,  in  the  preface  to  the  Memoirs,  published  in  1734,  when  speaking  of  Blackburn's 
edition  of  Bacon,  says, 

"  Would  any  one,  that  had  consulted  the  reputation  of  the  Lord  Bacon,  or  indeed  his  own,  have 
published  severaf  Apophthegmes  under  his  Lordship's  Name,  which  he  himself,  as  well  as  Dr. 
Tenison,  allowed  to  be  scandalous  and  spurious'?  Those  which  his  Lordship  compiled  as  an 
amusement,  during  his  indisposition  in  the  year  1625,  were  printed  in  the  same  year,  amounting  to  the 
number  of  two  hundred  and  eighty  :  And  were  not  reprinted  by  Doctor  Rawley  in  the  first  edition 
of  the  Resuscitatio  in  1657:  but,  upon  the  republishing  that  work,  with  a  dedication  to  King 
Charles  the  Second,  the  Bookseller  contrived  to  insert  them  with  some  alteration  and  additions; 
which,  instead  of  increasing,  diminished  the  value  of  the  whole."3 

This  volume  contains  a  copy  of  the  first  edition  of  1625, 3  with  an  appendix  containing  the  Apoph- 
thegmes,  published  by  Archbishop  Tenison  in  his  Baconia.  I  have,  to  use  Bacon's  own  words,  fanned 
the  collection  published  under  his  name,  and  rejected  the  spurious  additions.  They  are  inserted  in 
a  note.4 

The  use  which  Lord  Bacon  made  of  these  "  Mucrones  Verborum,"  may  be  seen  by  comparing 
Apophthegme  251,  with  the  same  anecdote  as  incorporated  in  the  Advancement  of  Learning. 

§  10. 
THE  ORNAMENTA  RATIONALIA,  &c. 

Are  inserted  from  the  Baconiana. — The  short  notes,  of  which  there  is  a  MS.  in  the  British 
Museum,5  are  taken  from  the  Remains  published  in  1645. — The  Essay  on  Death,  of  which  there  is 
a  Manuscript  in  the  British  Museum,6  is  inserted  from  the  Remains. 

I  know  not  by  what  authority  this  fragment  is  ascribed  to  Lord  Bacon.  It  appears  not  to  be  in 
his  style  ;  and,  excepting  the  following  passages,  I  do  not  find  any  similarity  in  this  Essay  with 
his  general  sentiments  upon  death ; 

PAGE  133  OF  THIS  VOLUME. 

"  There  is  nothing  more  awakens  our  res9lve  and  readiness  to  die,  than  the  quieted  conscience, 
strengthened  with  opinion  that  we  shall  be  well  spoken  of  upon  earth  by  those  that  are  just  and  of 
the  family  of  virtue ;  the  opposite  whereof  is  a  fury  to  man,  and  makes  even  life  unsweet. 

»  Therefore,  what  is  more  heavy  than  evil  fame  deserved  1  Or,  likewise,  who  can  see  worse  days, 
than  he  that  yet  living  doth  follow  at  the  funerals  of  his  own  reputation." 

PAGE  12  OF  THIS  VOLUME. 

"  A  mind  fixed  and  bent  upon  somewhat  that  is  good,  doth  avert  the  dolours  of  death ;  but,  above 
all,  believe  it,  the  sweetest  canticle  is,  « Nunc  dimittis,'  when  a  man  hath  obtained  worthy  ends  and 
expectations." 

i  Ex.  gr.  Apotheg.  183, 184. 

a  But  note  that  this  edition  was  published  in  1661,  during  Rawley's  life,  who  died  in  1667. 

»  Amongst  the  Apophthegmes  inserted  in  the  note,  the  following,  which,  from  its  internal  evidence,  I  can  scarcely  think 
spurious,  would  have  admirably  illustrated  Bacon's  favourite  opinion,  that  all  men  should  be  engaged  inactive  life  ;  that, 
in  this  theatre  of  man's  life,  it  is  reserved  only  for  God  and  angels  to  be  lookers  on. 

"  When  his  Lordship  was  newly  advanced  to  the  Great  Seal,  Gondomar  came  to  visit  him  :  My  Lord  said,  '  That  he  was 
to  thank  God  and  the  King  for  that  honour  ;  but  yet,  so  he  might  be  rid  of  the  burthen,  he  could  very  willingly  forbear  the 
honour.  And  thai  he  formerly  had  a  desire,  and  the  same  continued  with  him  still,  to  lead  a  private  life.'  Gondomar 
answered,  that  he  would  tell  him  a  tale,  '  Of  an  old  rat  that  would  needs  leave  the  world  :  and  acquainted  the  young  rats 
that  he  would  retire  into  his  hole,  and  spend  his  days  solitary  ;  and  would  enjoy  no  more  comfort :  and  commended  them 
upon  his  high  displeasure,  not  to  offer  to  come  in  unto  him.  They  forbore  two  or  three  days  ;  at  last,  one  that  was  more 
hardy  than  the  rest,  incited  some  of  his  fellows  to  go  in  with  him,  and  he  would  venture  to  see  how  his  father  did  ;  for  he 
might  be  dead.  They  went  in,  and  found  the  old  rat  sitting  in  the  midst  of  a  rich  Parmesan  cheese.'  So  he  applied  the 

«  See  end  of  Apophthegmes.  *  Lansdowne  Collection,  No.  205,  fo.  217.  «  Harleian,  vol.  ii.  p.  196. 


IS* 


ESSAYS. 


C~  | 

*4    I 

^•f 


! 


I.  OF  TRyf  H. 

WHAT  is  truth  1  said  jesting  Pilate;  and  would 
not  stay  for  an  answer.  Certainly  there  be  that 
delight  in  giddiness  ;  and  count  it  a  bondage  to 
fix  a  belief;  affecting  free-will  in  thinking,  as 
well  as  in  acting.  And  though  the  sects  .of  phi 
losophers  of  that  land  be  gone,  yet  there  remain 
certain  discoursive  wits,  which  are  of  the  same 
veins,  though  there  be  not  so  much  blood  in  them 
as  was  in  those  of  the  ancients.  But  it  is  not  only 
the  difficulty  and  labour  which  men  take  in  find 
ing  out  of  truth,  nor  again,  that  when  it  is  found, 
it  imposeth  upon  men's  thoughts,  that  doth  brifrg 
lies  in  favour,  but  a  natural  though  corrupt  love 
of  the  lie  itself.  One  of  the  later  schoolsorthe 
Grecians  examineth  the  matter,  and  is  at  a  stand 

tiiink  what  should  be  in  it,  that  men  should  love 
where  neither  they  make  for  pleasure,  as 
with  poets  ;  nor  for  advantage,  as  with  the  mer- 
but  for  the  lie's  sake.  But  I  cannot  tell  $ 
this  same  truth  is  a  naked  and  open  daylight, 
that  doth  not  show  the  masks,  and  mfcmmeries, 
and  triumphs  of  the  world,  half  so  stately  and 
daintily  as  candlelights,  *  Truth  may  perhaps 
come  to  the  price  of  a  pearl,  that  showeth  best  by 
day,  but  it  will  not  rise  \o  the  price  of  a  diamond 
of  carbuncle,  that  showeth  best  in  varied  lights* 
A  mixture  of  a  lie  doth  ever  add  pleasure*  Doth 
any  man  doubt,  that  if  there  were  taken  out  of 
men's  minds,  vain  opinions,  flattering  hopes, 
alse  valuations,  imaginations  as  one  would,  and 
likt,  but  it  would  leave  the  minds  of  a  number 
of  men,  poor  shrunken  things,  full  of  melancholy 
and  indisposition,  and  unpleasing  to  themselves  1 
Onej)fther  fattier^  in  great  severity,  called  poesy 
"  vmun^  daemonum,"  because  it  filleth  the  im^- 
gination,  and  yet  it  is  but  with  the  shadow  of  a  lie^ 
But  it  is  not  the  lie  that  passeth  through  the  mind, 
but  the  lie  that  sinketh  inland  settleth  in  it,  that 
doth  the  hurt,  such  as  we  spake  of  before^/  But 
£owsoever~tEe8e  things  are  thus'irTmen's  de- 
praved  judgments  and  affections^yet  truth,  which 
only  dqthjudge  itself,  teacheth,  that  'the  inquiry 
of  truth,  whicTTis  the  love-making,  or  wooing  of 
it,  the  knowledge  of  truth,  which  is  the  presence 
of  it,  and  the  belief  of  truth,,  which  is  the  enjoy 
ing  of  it,  isjhe  sovereign  good  of  human  naturej 
The  first  creature^  of  G'ocl,  In  tHe  works  of  the 
days,  was  the  light  of  the  sensed  the  last  was  the 
light  of  reasonT  and  his  Sabbath  work  ever  sines, 
is  the  illumination  of  his  Spirit.-  First,  he  breathed 


light  upon  the  face  of  the  matter,  or  chaos  ;  then 
he  breathed  light  into  the  face  of  man ;  and  still^-V 
he  breatheth  and  inspireth  light  into  the  face  of  ?*A* 
his  chosen.  AThe  poet  that  beautified  the  sect, 
that  was  otherwise  inferior  to  the  rest,  saith  yet 
excellently  well :  "  It  is  a  pleasure  to  stand  upon 
the  shore,  and  to  see  ships  tossed  upon  the  sea :  a 
pleasure  to  stand  in  the  window  of  a  castle,  and 
to  see  a  battle,  and  the  adventures  thereof  be 
low  :  but  no  pleasure  is  comparable  to  the  stand-\ 
ing  upon  the  vantage  ground  of  truth,  (a  hill  not| 
to  be  commanded,  and  where  the  air  is  always 
clear  and  serene,)  and  to  see  the  errors,  and  wan- 
deringsuand  mists,  and  tempests  in  the  vale  be 
low  :"Jso  always  that  this  prospect  be  with  pity, 
and  not  with  swelling  or  pride.  Certainly,  it  is 
heaven  upon  earth,  to  have  a  man's  mind  move 
in  charity,  rest  in  providence,  and  turn  upon  the 
poles  of  truth. 

To  pass   from  theological  and  .philosophical 
truth,  to  the  truth  of  civil  business! '  it  will  be  ac 


knowledged  e^en  ^  those  that  practise  it  not* 
that  clean  anoK^ftealing  is  the  honour  of  man's} 
nature,  and  that  mixture  of  falsehood  is  like  alloy 
in  coin  of  gold  and  silver,  which  may  make  the 
metal  work  the  better,  but  it  embaseth  it.    For 
these  winding  and  crooked  courses  are  the  goings 
of  the  serpent ;    which   goeth  basely  upon  the 
belly,  and  not  upon  the  feet.     There  is  no  vice 
that  doth  so  cover  a  man  with  shame  as  to i  "Be 
found  false  and  perfidious ;  and  therefore  Mon 
taigne  saith  firettily,,' when  he  inquired  the  reason,      ^ 
why  the  word  of  the  lie  should  be  such  a  disgrace,      / 
and  such  an  odious  charge,  saith  he,  "If.  it  be/   I 
well  weighed,  to  say  tfaitjynaft  Uejh,  is  as  much 
as  to  say,  that  he  is  Jarave  ?> wajds ^Qod,  jmd  a 
oward  towards  men.     For  a  lie  jape's  God*  and     I 
shrinks  from  man."     Surely  the  wickedness  of 
falsehood  and  breach  of  faith  cannot  possibly  be    / 
so  highly  expressed;  as  in  that  it  shall  be  the  last  / 
peal  to  call  the  judgments  of  God  upon  the  genera    / 
tions  of  men  :  it  being  foretoW,  that  when  "Chrisi  I 
cometh,"  he  shall  not "  find/iaitnrtuponthe  earth."] 

II.    OF  DEATH.* 

MEN  fear  death,,  as  children  fear  to  go  into 
the  dark ;  and  as  that  natural  fear  in  children  is 
ncreased  with  tales,  so  is  the  other.  Certainly, 
the  contemplation  of  death,  as  the  wages  of  sin, 
and  passage  to  another  world,  is  holy  and  reli 
gious  ;  but  the  fear  of  it,  as  a  tribute  due  unto  na- 
*  See  note  A,  at  the  end  of  the  Essays. 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


ture,  is  weak.  Yet  in  religious  meditations,  there 
is  sometimes  mixture  of  vanity  and  of  superstition 
You  shall  read  in  some  of  the  friars'  books  of 
mortification,  that  a  man  should  think  with  him 
self,  what  the  pain  is,  if  he  have  but  his  finger's 
end  pressed  or  tortured ;  and  thereby  imagine 
what  the  pains  of  death  are,  when  the  whole  bqdy 
is  corrupted  and  dissolved ;  when  many  times 
death  passeth  with  less  pain  than  the  torture  of  a 
limb  :  for  the  most  vital  parts  are  not  the  quickes 
of  sense.  And  by  him  that  spake  only  as  a  phi 
losopher,  and  natural  man,  it  was  well  said 
"  Pompa  mortis  magis  terret,  quam  mors  ipsa.' 
Groans,  and  convulsions,  and  a  discoloured  face, 
and  friends  weeping,  and  blacks,  and  obsequies, 
and  the  like,  show  death  terrible.  It  is  worthy 
the  observing,  that  there  is  no  passion  in  the 
mind  of  man  so  weak,  but  it  mates  and  masters 
the  fear  of  death ;  and  therefore  death  is  no  such 
terrible  enemy  when  a  man  hath  so  many  attend 
ants  about  him  that  can  win  the  combat  of  him. 
Revenge  triumphs  over  death ;  loVe  slights  it ; 
honour  aspireth  to  it ;  grief  flieth  to  it;  fear  pre-oc- 
cupateth  it :  nay,  we  read,  after  Otho  the  empe 
ror  had  slain  himself,  pity  (which  is  the  tenderest 
of  affections)  provoked  many  to  die  out  of  mere 
compassion  to  their  sovereign,  and  as  the  truest 
sort  of  followers.  Nay,  Seneca  adds,  niceness 
and  satiety  :  "  Cogita  quamdiu  eadem  feceris  ; 
mori  velle,  non  tantum  fortis,  aut  miser,  sed  etiam 
fastidiosus  potest."  A  man  would  die,  though  he 
were  neither  valiant  nor  miserable,  only  upon  a 
weariness  to  do  the  same  thing  so  oft  and  over  and 
over.  It  is  no  less  worthy  to  observe,  how  little  al 
teration  in  good  spirits  tlic  arjjrroach  of  death  make : 
for  they  appear  to  be  the  same  men  till  the  last 
instant.  Augustus  Caesar  died  in  a  compliment : 
"  Livia,  conjugii  nostra  memor,  vive  et  vale." 
Tiberius  in  dissimulation,  as  Tacitus  saith  of  him, 
"  Jam  Tiberium  vires  et  corpus,  non  dissimulatio, 
deserebant:"  Vespasian  in  a  jest,  sitting  upon 
the  stool,  "  Ut  puto  Deus  fio :"  Galba  with  a  sen 
tence,  "Feri,  si  ex  re  sit  populi  Romani,"  holding 
forth  his  neck :  Septimus  Severus  in  despatch, 
"  Adeste,  si  quid  mihi  restat  agendum,"  and  the 
like.  Certainly  the  Stoics  bestowed  too  much 
cost  upon  death,  and  by  their  great  preparations 
made  it  appear  more  fearful-  Better,  saith  he, 
"  qui  finem  vitae  extremum  inter  munera  ponat 
naturae."  It  is  as  natural  to  die  as  to  be  born ; 
and  to  a  little  infant,  perhaps,  the  one  is  as  pain 
ful  as  the  other.  He  that  dies  in  an  earnest  pur 
suit,  is  like  one  that  is  wounded  in  hot  blood ; 
who,  for  the  time,  scarce  feels  the  hurt ;  and 
therefore  a  mind  fixed  and  btaa^upon  somewhat 
that  is  good,  doth^avert  the  dolouKTbt  death";  but, 
above Tali,  believeit,  ffie "sweetest  canticle  is, 
"  Nunc  dimittis"  when  a  man  hath  obtained  wor 
thy  ends  and  expectations.  Deathhath  this  also, 
that  it  openeth  the  good  fame,  ami,  'exlRfB'uisheth 
envy :  "  Extinctus  arnabitur  idem." 


III.  OF  UNITY  IN  RELIGION.* 

RELIGION  being  the  chief  band  of  human  society, 
it  is  a  happy  thing  when  itself  is  well  contained 
within  the  true  band  of  unity.  The  quarrels  and 
divisions  about  religion  were  evils  unknown  to 
the  heathen.  The  reason  was,  because  the  reli 
gion  of  the  heathen  consisted  rather  in  rites  and 
ceremonies,  than  in  any  constant  belief:  for  you 
may  imagine  what  kind  of  faith  theirs  was,  when 
the  chief  doctors  and  fathers  of  their  church  were 
the  poets.  But  the  true  God  hath  this  attribute, 
that  he  is  a  jealous  God ;  and  therefore  his  wor 
ship  and  religion  will  endure  no  mixture  nor  part 
ner.  We  shall  therefore  speak  a  few  words  con 
cerning  the  unity  of  the  church ;  what  are  the  fruits 
thereof;  what  the  bounds ;  and  what  the  means. 

The  fruits  of  unity  (next  unto  the  well  pleasing 
of  God,  which  is  all  in  all)  are  two ;  the  one  to 
wards  those  that  are  without  the  church,  the  other 
towards  those  that  are  within.  For  the  former, 
it  is  certain,  that  heresies  and  schisms  are  of  all 
ofners  the  greatest  scandals ;  yea,  more  than  cor 
ruption  of  manners :  for  as  in  the  natural  body  a 
wound  or  solution  of  continuity  is  worse  than  a 
corrupt  humour,  so  in  the  spiritual :  so  that  no 
thing  doth  so  much  keep  men  out  of  the  church, 
and  drive  men  out  of  the  church,  as  breach  of 
unity ;  and,  therefore,  whensoever  it  cometh  to 
that  pass  that  one  saith,  "  ecce  in  deserto,"  an 
other  saith,  "ecce  in  penetralibus ;"  that  is,  when 
some  men  seek  Christ  in  the  conventicles  of  heri- 
tics,  and  others  in  an  outward  face  of  a  church, 
that  voice  had  need  continually  to  sound  in  men's 
ears,  "  nolite  exire," — "  go  not  out."  The  doctor 
of  the  Gentiles  (the  propriety  of  whose  vocation 
drew  him  to  have  a  special  care  of  those  without) 
saith,  "  If  a  heathen  come  in,  and  hear  you  speak 
with  several  tongues,  will  he  not  say  that  you  are 
mad  1"  and,  certainly,  it  is  little  better:  when 
atheists  and  profane  persons  do  hear  of  so  many 
discordant  and  contrary  opinions  in  religion,  it 
doth  avert  them  from  the  church,  and  maketh 
them,  "  to  sit  down  in  the  chair  of  the  scorners." 
It  is  but  a  light  thing  to  be  vouched  in  so  serious 
a  matter,  but  yet  it  expresseth  well  the  deformity. 
There  is  a  master  of  scoffing  that  in  his  catalogue 
of  books  of  a  feigned  library,  sets  down  this  title 
of  a  book,  "The  Morris-Dance  of  Heretics;"  for, 
indeed,  every  sect  of  them  hath  a  diverse  posture,  , 
or  cringe,  by  themselves,  which  cannot  but  move 
lerision  in  worldlings  and  depraved  politics,  who 
are  apt  to  contemn  holy  things. 

As  for  the  fruit  towards  those  that  are  within, 
t  is  peace,  which  containeth  infinite  blessings ; 
it  establisheth  faith:  it  kindleth  charity;  the  out 
ward  peace  of  the  church  distilleth  into  peace  of 
conscience,  and  it  turneth  the  labours  of  writing 
and  reading  of  controversies  into  treatises  of  mor 
tification  and  devotion. 

*  Sea  Note  A  at  the  end  of  the  Essays. 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


13 


Concerning  the  bounds  of  unity,  the  true  placing 
of  them  importeth  exceedingly.  There  appear  to 
be  two  extremes  :  for  to  certain  zealots  all  speech 
of  pacification  is  odious.  "  Is  it  peace,  Jehu "?" — 
"What  hast  thou  to  do  with  peace1?  turn  thee 
behind  me."  Peace  is  not  the  matter,  but  fol 
lowing,  and  party.  Contrariwise,  certain  Laodi- 
ceans  and  lukewarm  persons  think  they  may  ac 
commodate  points  of  religion  by  middle  ways, 
and  taking  part  of  both,  and  witty  reconcilements, 
as  if  they  would  make  an  arbitrement  between 
God  and  man.  Both  these  extremes  are  to  be 
avoided;  which  will  be  done  if  the  league  of 
Christians,  penned  by  our  Saviour  himself,  were 
in  the  two  cross  clauses  thereof  soundly  and 
plainly  expounded :  "  He  that  is  not  with  us  is 
against  us  ;"  and  again,  "  He  that  is  not  against 
us  is  with  us ;"  that  is,  if  the  points  fundamental, 
and  of  substance  in  religion,  were  truly  discerned 
and  distinguished  from  points  not  merely  of  faith, 
but  of  opinion,  order,  or  good  intention.  This  is 
a  thing  may  seem  to  many  a  matter  trivial,  and 
done  already ;  but  if  it  were  done  less  partially, 
it  would  be  embraced  more  generally. 

Of  this  I  may  give  only  this  advice,  according 
to  my  small  model.  Men  ought  to  take  heed  of 
rending  God's  church  by  two  kinds  of  controver 
sies  ;  the  one  is,  when  the  matter  of  the  point 
controverted  is  too  small  and  light,  not  worth  the 
heat  and  strife  about  it,  kindled  only  by  contra 
diction;  for,  as  it  is  noted  by  one  of  the  fathers, 
Christ's  coat  indeed  had  no  seam,  but  the  church's 
vesture  was  of  divers  colours  ;  whereupon  he 
saith,  "in  veste  varietas  sit,  scissura  non  sit," 
they  be  two  things,  unity  and  uniformity;  the 
other  is,  when  the  matter  of  the  point  controverted 
is  great,  but  it  is  driven  to  an  over  great  subtilty 
Tand  obscurity,  so  that  it  becometh  a  thing  rather, 
*  ingenious  than  substantial.  A  man  that  is  of 
judgment  and  understanding  shall  sometimes  hear 
ignorant  men  differ,  and  know  well  within  him 
self,  that  those  which  so  differ  mean  one  thing, 
and  yet  they  themselves  would  never  agree  :  and 
if  it  come  so  to  pass  in  that  distance  of  judgment, 
which  is  Between  man  and  man,  shall  we  not 
think  that  God  above,  that  knows  the  heart,  doth 
not  discern  that  frail  men,  in  some  of  their  con 
tradictions,  intend  the  same  thing  and  accepteth 
of  both  1  The  nature  of  such  controversies  is  ex 
cellently  expressed  by  St.  Paul,  in  the  warning 
and  precept  that  he  giveth  concerning  the  same, 
"  devita  profanas  vocum  novitates,  et  oppositiones 
falsi  nominis  scientiae."  Men  create  oppositions 
which  are  not,  and  put  them  into  new  terms  so 
fixed,  as  whereas  the  meaning  ought  to  govern 
the  term,  the  term  in  effect  governeth  the  mean 
ing.  There  be  also  two  false  peaces,  or  unities : 
the  one,  when  the  peace  is  grounded  but  upon  an 
implicit  ignorance;  for  all  colours  will  agree  in 
the  dark :  the  other,  when  it  is  pieced  up  upon  a 
direct  admission  of  contraries  in  fundamental 


points  :  for  truth  and  falsehood,  in  such  things, 
are  like  the  iron  and  clay  in  the  toes  of  Nebu 
chadnezzar's  image ;  they  may  cleave,  but  they 
will  not  incorporate. 

Concerning  the  means  of  procuring  unity,  men 
must  beware  that,  in  the  procuring  or  muniting 
of  religious  unity,  they  do  not  dissolve  and  de 
face  the  laws  of  charity  and  of  human  society. 
There  be  two  swords  amongst  Christians,  the 
spiritual  and  temporal ;  and  both  have  their  due 
office  and  place  in  the  maintenance  of  religion : 
but  we  may  not  take  up  the  third  sword,  which  is 
Mahomet's  sword,  or  like  unto  it :  that  is,  to  pro 
pagate  religion  by  wars,  or  by  sanguinary  perse 
cutions  to  force  consciences ;  except  it  be  in  cases 
of  overt  scandal,  blasphemy,  or  intermixture  of 
practice  against  the  state ;  much  less  to  nourish 
seditions ;  to  authorize  conspiracies  and  rebellions; 
to  put  the  sword  into  the  people's  hands,  and  the 
like,  tending  to  the  subversion  of  all  government, 
which  is  the  ordinance  of  God ;  for  this  is  but  to 
dash  the  first  table  against  the  second  ;  and  so  to 
consider  men  as  Christians,  as  we  forget  that 
they  are  men.  Lucretius  the  poet,  when  he  be 
held  the  act  of  Agamemnon,  that  could  endure  the 
sacrificing  of  his  own  daughter,  exclaimed : 

"Tantum  religio  potuit  suadere  malorum." 

What  would  he  have  said,  if  he  had  known  of 
the  massacre  in  France,  or  the  powder  treason  of 
England1?  He  would  have  been  seven  times  more 
epicure  and  atheist  than  he  was;  for  as  the  tem 
poral  sword  is  to  be  drawn  with  great  circumspec 
tion  in  cases  of  religion,  so  it  is  a  thing  monstrous 
to  put  it  into  the  hands  of  the  common  people; 
let  that  be  left  unto  the  anabaptists,  and  other  fu 
ries.  It  was  great  blasphemy,  when  the  devil 
said,  "I  will  ascend  and  be  like  the  Highest;" 
but  it  is  greater  blasphemy  to  personate  God,  and 
bring  him  in  saying,  "  I  will  descend,  and  be 
like  the  prince  of  darkness :"  and  what  is  it  bet 
ter,  to  make  the  cause  of  religion  to  descend  to  the 
cruel  and  execrable  actions  of  murdering  princes, 
butchery  of  people,  and  subversion  of  states  and 
governments  1  Surely  this  is  to  bring  down  the 
Holy  Ghoft,  instead  of  the  likeness  of  a  dove,  in 
the  shape  of  a  vulture  or  raven ;  and  to  set  out  of 
the  bark  of  a  Christian  church  a  flag  of  a  bark  of 
pirates  and  assassins ;  therefore  it  is  most  neces 
sary  that  the  church  by  doctrine  and  decree, 
princes  by  their  sword,  and  all  learnings,  both 
Christian  and  moral,  as  by  their  Mercury  rod  to 
damn,  and  send  to  hell  forever,  those  facts  and 
opinions  tending  to  the  support  of  the  same,  as 
hath  been  already  in  good  part  done.  Surely  in 
councils  concerning  religion,  that  council  of  the 
apostle  would  be  prefixed,  "  Ira  hominis  non  im- 
plet  justitiam  Dei ;"  and  it  was  a  notable  observa 
tion  of  a  wise  father,  and  no  less  ingenuously 
confessed,  that  those  which  held  and  persuaded 
pressure  of  consciences,  were  commonly  interested 
therein  themselves  for  their  own  ends. 
B 


14 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


7 


IV.     OF  REVENGE. 


REVENGE  is  a  kind  of  wild  justice,  which  the 
more  man's  nature  runs  to,  the  more  ought  law 
to  weed  it  out :  for  as  for  the  first  wrong,  it  doth 
but  offend  the  law,  but  the  revenge  of  that  wrong 
putteth  the  law  out  of  office.    Certainly,  in  taking 
revenge,  aT  man  is  but  even  with  his  enemy  ;  but 
in  passing  it  over,  he   is   superior;    for  it  is   a 
prince's  part  to  pardon  :  and  Solomon,  I  am  sure, 
saith,  "  It  is  th^^brj^o£^jnanJp_D^ss  by  an 
offence."     That  which  is  pasfTTgone  and  irre 
coverable,  and  wise  men  have  enough  to  do  with 
things  pigsent  and   to    come;  therefore  they  do 
but  °trineAvT!ri^tr7elrTselTes,  that  labour  in  past 
matters.     There  is  no  inan^doth  a  wrong  for  the 
wrong's  sake,  but  thereby  to  purchase  himself 
profit,  or  pleasure,  or  honour,  or  the  like ;  there 
fore  why  should  I  be  angry  with  a  man  for  loving 
x  himself  better  than  me  ?     And  if  any  man  should 
Ido  wrong,  merely  out  of  ill-nature,  why,  yet  it  is 
but  like  the  thorn  or  brier,  which  prick  and  scratch, 
because  they  can  do  no  other.    The  most  tolerable 
sort  of  revenge  is  for  those  wrongs  which  there  is 
no  law  to  remedy ;  but  then,  let  a  man  take  heed 
the  revenge  be  such  there  is  no  law  to  punish, 
•  else  a  man's  enemy  is  still  beforehand,  and  it  is 
two  for  one.     Some,  when  they  take  revenge,  are 
..  desirous  the  party  should  know  whence  it  cometh  : 
this  is  the  more  generous ;  for  the  delight  seemeth 
to  be  not  so  much  in  doing  the  hurt  as  in  making 
^the  party  repent :  but  base  and  crafty  cowards  are 
like  the  arrow  that  flieth  in  the  dark.     Cosmus, 
Duke  of  Florence,  had  a  desperate  saying  against 
perfidious  or  neglecting  friends,  as  if  those  wrongs 
were  unpardonable.     "  You  shall  read,"  saith  he, 
"  that  we  are  commanded  to  forgive  our  enemies, 
but  you  never  read  that  we  are  commanded  to  for 
give  our  friends."     But  yet  the  spirit  of  Job  wa 
in  a  better  tune  :  "  Shall  we,"  saith  he,  "  take  gooc 
at  God's  hands,  and  not  be  content  to  take  evil 
r*      alsol"  and  so  of  friends  in  a  proportion.     Tbj^ 
Y      certain,  that  a  man  that  studieth  revenge,  keej& 
X      his  own  wounds  green,  which  otherwise  wouk 
heal  and  do  wel).     Public  revenges^Jp  for  th 
3      most  part  fortunate;  as  that  for  the  death   of 
Caesar;  for  the  death  of  Pertinax;  for  the  deatli 
^0"   of  Henry  the  Third  of  France ;  and  many  more 
S^      But  in  private  revenges  it  is  not  so ;  nay,  rathei 
L^j      vindictive  persons  live  the  life  of  witches  ;  who 
5»      as  they  are  mischievous,  so  end  they  unfortunate 

V.     OF  ADVERSITY. 

IT  was  a  high  speech  of  Seneca,  (after  the  man 
ner  of  the  Stoics,)  that  the  good  things  which 
belong  to  prosperity  are  to  be  wished,  but  the 
good  things  that  belong  to  adversity  are  to  be 
admired  :  "  Bona  reram  secundarum  optabilia 

j)  adversarum  mirabilia."  Certainly,  if  miracles  be 
the  command  over  nature,  they  appear  most  in 

Ov       adversity.     It  is  yet  a  higher  speech  of  his  than 


the  other,  (much  too  high  for  a  heathen,)  "  It  is 
true  greatness  to  have  in  one  the  frailty  of  a  man, 
and  the  security  of  a  God :" — "  Vere  magnum 
habere  fragilitatem  hominis,  securitatern  Dei." 
This  would  have  done  better  in  poesy,  where 
transcendencies  are  more  allowed  ;  and  the  poets, 
indeed,  have  been  busy  with  it ;  for  it  is  in  effect 
the  thing  which  is  figured  in  that  strange  fiction 
of  the  ancient  poets,  which  seemeth  not  ttf  be 
without  mystery ;  nay,  and  to  have  some  approach 
to  the  state  of  a  Christian,  "that  Hercules,  when 
he  went  to  unbind  Prometheus,  (by  whom  human 
nature  is  represented,)  sailed  the  length  of  the 
great  ocean  in  an  earthen  pot  or  pitcher,  lively 
describing  Christian  resolution,  that  saileth  in  the 
frail  bark  of  the  flesh  through  the  waves  of  the 
world."  But  to  speak  in  a  mean,  the  virtue  of 
prosperity  is  temperance,  the  virtue  of  adversity  is 
fortitude,  which  in  morals  is  the  more  heroical  vir 
tue.  Prosperity  is  the  blessing  of  the  Old  Testa 
ment,  adversity  is  the  blessing  of  the  New,  which 
carrieth  the  greater  benediction,  and  the  clearer 
revelation  of  God's  favour.  Yet  even  in  the  Old 
Testament,  if  you  listen  to  David's  harp,  you  shall 
hear  as  many  hearse-like  airs  as  carols  ;  and  the 
pencil  of  the  Holy  Ghost  hath  laboured  more  in 
describing  the  afflictions  of  Job  than  the  felicities 
of  Solomon.  Prosperity  is  not  without  many  fears 
and  distastes  ;  and  adversity  is  not  without  com 
forts  and  hopes.  We  see  in  needle-works  and 
embroideries,  it  is  more  pleasing  to  have  a  lively 
work  upon  a  sad  and  solemn  ground,  than  to  have 
a  dark  and  melancholy  work  upon  a  lightsome 
ground:  judge,  therefore,  of  the  pleasure  of  the^ 
heart  by  the  pleasure  of  the  eye.  Certainly 
virtue  is  like  precious  odours,  most  fragrant  when 
they  are  incensed,  or  crushed  :  for  prosperity  doth 
pbest  discover  vice,  but  adversity  doth  best  discomp 
ver  virtue. 

S3)  OF  SIMULATION  AND  DISSIMU 
LATION.* 

\  "*"     -  •* "     *   '•'     «^.* 

'  -  DISSIMULATION  is  but  a  faint  kind  of  policy,  or 
wisdom;  for  it  asketh  a  strong  wit  and  a  strong 
heart  to  know  when  to  tell  truth,  and  to  do  it; 
therefore  it  is  the  weaker  sort  of  politicians  that 
are  the  great  dissemblers. 

Tacitus  saith,  "  Livia  sorted  well  with  the  arts 
of  her  husband,  and  dissimulation  of  her  son ; 
attributing  arts  or  policy  to 
simulation  to  Tiberius  :"  and 
nus  encourageth  Vespasian  to  take  arms  against 
Vitellius,  he  saith,"  We  rise  not  against  the  pierc 
ing  judgment  of  Augustus,  nor  the  extreme  cau 
tion  or  closeness  of  Tiberius  :"  these  properties 
of  arts  or  policy,  and  dissimulation  or  closeness, 
are  indeed  habits  and  faculties  several,  and  to  be 
distinguished  ;  for  if  a  man  have  that  penetration 
of  judgment  as  he  can  discern  what  things  are  to 
*  See  note  C,  at  the  end  of  the  Essays. 


ulation  of  her  son ; 
Augustus,  and  dis-   | 
again,  when  Mucia-    & 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


15 


spread 
•  of  deal 


be  laid  open,  and  what  to  be  secreted,  and  what 
to  be  shewed  at  half  lights,  and  to  whom  and 
when,  (which  indeed  are  arts  of  state,  and  arts  of 
Jife,  as  Tacitus  well  calleth  them,)  to  him  a  habit 
of  dissimulation  is  a  hinderance  and  a  poorness. 
But  if  a  man  cannot  attain  to  that  judgment,  then 
it  is  left  to  him  generally  to  be  close,  and  a  dis 
sembler  :  for  where  a  man  cannot  choose  or  vary 
in  particulars,  there  it  is  good  to  take  the  safest  and 
wariest  way  in  general,  like  the  going  softly  by 
one  that  cannot  well  see.  Certainly,  the  ablest 
men  that  ever  were  have  had  all  an  openness  and 
frankness  of  dealing,  and  a  name  of  certainty  and 
veracity  :  but  then  they  were  like  horses  well 
managed,  for  they  could  tell  passing  well  when  to 
stop  or  turn ;  and  at  such  times  when  they  thought 
the  case  indeed  required  dissimulation,  if  then  they 
used  it,  it  cai^flfermss  that  the  former  opinion 
racl,  of  th)>ir  good  faith  and  clearness 
ide  th^n  almost  invisible. 

fegrees  of  this  hiding  and  veil- 
jself ;  the  first,  closeness,  reserva- 
;y,  when  a  man  leaveth  himself 
without  observation,  or  without  hold  to  be  taken, 
what  he  is  ;  the  second  dissimulation  in  the  nega 
tive,  when  a  man  lets  fall  signs  and  arguments, 
that  he  is  not  that  he  is ;  and  the  third  .simu 
lation  in  the  affirmative,  when  a  man  industriously 
and  expressly  feigns  and  pretends  to  be  that  he 
is  not. 

For  the  first  of  these,  secrecy,  it  is  indeed  the 
virtue  of  a  confessor ;  and  assuredly  the  secret 
man  heareth  many  confessions,  for  who  will  open 
himself  to  a  blab  or  a  babbler  1  But  if  a  man  be 
thought  secret,  it  inviteth  discovery,  as  the  more 
close  air  sucketh  in  the  more  open  ;  a 
fession,  the  revealing  is  not  for  worldly  use,  but 
for  the  ease  of  a  man's  heart,  so  secret  men  come 
to  the  knowledge  jof  many  things  in  that  kind; 
while  men  rather  discharge  their'  minds  than  im 
part  their  minds.  In  few  words,  mysteries  are 
due  to  secrecy.  Besides  (to  say  truth)  nakedness 
is  uncomely,  as  well  in  mind  as  body ;  and  it 
addeth  no  small  reverence  to  men's  manners  and 
actions,  if  they  be  not  altogether  open.  As  for 
talkers,  and  fiitije  persons,  they  are  commonly 
vain  and  credulous  withal :  for  he  that  talketh  what 
he  knoweth,  will  also  talk  what  he  knoweth  not ; 
therefore  set4t  do,wn,  that  ajjabitiof  secrecy  is  both 

^rfsi£  £;  ^  fifr  **>&*?  ^*-Q    RA^*^^.T^*^^ 

politic  and  morar1:  and  in  thispart  it  is  good,  that 

a  man's  face  give  his  tongue  leave  to  speak  ;  for 

the  discovery  of  a  man's  self,  by  the  tracts  of  his 

.  countenance,  is  a  great  weakness  and  betraying, 

Jby  how  much  it  is  many  times  more  marked  and 

believed  than  a  man's  words. 

For  the  second,  which  is  dissimulation,  it  fol- 
loweth  many  times  upon  secrecy  by  a  necessity  ; 
so  that  he  that  will  be  secret  must  be  a  dissembler 
in  some  degree  ;  for  men  are  too  cunning  to  suffer 
a  man  to  keep  an  indifferent  carriage  between 
both,  and  to  be  secret,  without  swaying  the  balance 


on  either  side.  They  will  so  beset  a  man  with 
questions,  and  draw  him  on,  and  pick  it  out  of 
him,  that,  without  an  absurd  silence,  he  must 
shew  an  inclination  one  way ;  or  if  he  do  not,  they 
will  gather  as  much  by  his  silence  as  by  his 
speech.  As  for  equivocations,  or  oraculous 
speeches,  they  cannot  hold  out  long :  so  that_np 
man  can  be  secret^  except  he  give  himself  a  little 
scope  of  dissimulation,  which  is,  as  it  were,  but 
the  skirts,  or  train  of  secrecy. 

But  for  the  third  degree,  which  is  simulaton^ 
and  false  profession,  that  I  hold  more  culpable, 
and  less  ponticTexcept  it  be  in  great  and  rare 
matters :  and,  therefore,  a  general  custom  of  simu 
lation,  (which  is  tr  is  last  degree,)  a  vice  rising 
either  of  a  natural  f;  Iseness,  or  fearfulness,  or  of  a 
mind  that  hath  some  main  faults  ;  which  because 
a  man  must  needs  disguise,  it  maketh  him  prac 
tise  simulation  in  other  things,  lest  his  hand 
should  be  out  of  use. 

The  advantages  of  simulation  and  dissimulation 
are  three  r-'first,  to  lay  asleep  opposition,  and  to 
surprise ;  for  where  a  man's  intentions  are  pub 
lished,  it  is  an  alarum  to  call  up  all  that  are 
against  then/^tiie  second  is,  to  reserve  to  a  man's 
self  a  fair  retreat ;  for  if  a  man  engage  himself  by 
a  manifest  ^declaration,  he  must  go  through,  or 
take  a  fall  iC'Mie  third  is,  the  better  to  discover  the 
mind  of  another ;  for  to  him  that  opens  himself 
men  will  hardly  show  themselves  averse;  but 
will  fain  let  him  go  on,  and  turn  their  freedom  of 
speech  to  freedom  of  thought ;  and  therefore  it  is 
a  good  shrewd  proverb  of  the  Spaniard,  "  Tell  a 
lie  and  find  a  jfcialb ;"  as  if  there  were  no  way  of 
discovery  but  by  simulation.  There  be  also  three 
to  set  it  even;* the  first,  that  simu 
lation  and  dissimulation  commonly  carry  with 
them  a  show  of  fjajfuljness,  which,  in  any  busi 
ness  doth  spoil  the  feathers  of  round  flying  up  to 
the  markl^tha  .second,  that  it  puzzleth  and  per- 
plexeth  the  cwrcms  of  many,  that,  perhaps, 
would  otherwise  co-operate  with  him,  and  makes 
a  man  walk  almost  alone  to  his  own  endstj5  the 
third,  and  greatest,  is,  that  it  depriveth  a  man  of 
one  of  the  most  principal  instruments  for  action, 
which  is  trust  and  bqlief.  The  best  c£™J23£*ialIL- 
and  temperature  is,  tb  have  openness  inKhneana 
opinion ;  secrecy  in  habit ;  dissimulation  in  sea 
sonable  use ;  and  a  jDpwer  to  feign  if  there  be  no 
remedy. 

VII.     OF  PARENTS  AND  CHILDREN. 

THE  joys  of  parents  are  secret,  and  so  are  their 
griefs  and  fears ;  they  cannot  utter  the  one,  nor 
they  will  not  utter  the  other.  Children  sweeten 
labours,  but  they  make  misfortunes  more  bitter: 
they  increase  the  cares  of  life,  but  they  mitigate 
the  remembrance  of  death.  The  perpetuity  by 
generation  is  common  to  beasts ;  but  memory, 
merit,  and  noble  works  are  proper  to  men:  and 


UoVas  Uk«oj3s»,  disadvantages 


16 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


\ 


I    surely  a  man  shall  see  the   noblest  works,  and 

1    foundations  have  proceeded  from  childless  men, 

which  have  sought  to  express  the  images  of  their 

minds,  where  those  of  their  bodies  have  failed  ;  so 

the  care  of  ^osfenly  'is  Inost  in  themy that  hay e 

no  posterity.     They  that  are  the  first '  raisers"  <>f 

their  houses  are    most  indulgent  towards   their 

children,  beholding  them  as  the  continuance,  not 

only  of  their  kind,  but  of  their  work ;  and  so  both 

\children  and  creatures. 

That  difference  in  affection  of  parents  towards 
>'  their  several  children,  is  many  times  unequal,  and 
sometimes  unworthy,  especially  in  the  mother ; 
as  Solomon  saith,  "  A  wise  son  rejoiceth  the 
father,  but  an  ungracious  son  shames  the  mo 
ther."  A  man  shall  see,  where  there  is  a  house 
full  of  children,  one  or  two  of  the  eldest  respect 
ed,  and  the  youngest  made  wlnftons ;  but  in  the 
midst  some  that  are  as  it  were  forgotten,  who, 
many  times,  nevertheless,  prove  the  best.  The 
illiberality  of  parents,  in  allowance  towards  their 
,  children,  is  an  harmful  error,  and  makes  them 
o|se ;  acquaints  them  with  shifts ;  makes  them 
sort  with  mean  company ;  and  makes  t\iem*sunew 
more  when  they  come  to  plenty:  sand  therefore 
the  proof  is  best  when  men  keep  their  authority 
towards  their  children,  but  not  their  purse.  Men 
have  a  foolish  manner  (both  parents,  and  school 
masters,  and  servants)  in  creating  and  breeding 

^^vtt^v)     tt>    £  tf-v***-*  '  °.  ° 

an  emulation  oetween  brothers  during  childhood, 
which  many  times  sorteth  to  discord  when  they 
are  men,  and  disturbeth  families.  The  Italians 
make  little  difference  between  children  and  ne 
phews,  or  near  kinsfolks  ;  but  so  they  be  of  the 
lump,  they  care  not,  though  they  pass  not  through 
their  own  body  ;  and,  to  say  truth,  in  nature  it  is 
much  a  like  matter;  insomuch  that  we  see  a  ne 
phew  sometimes  resembleth  an  uncle,  or  a  kins 
man,  more  than  his  own  parents,  as  titie  blood 
happens.  Let  parents  choose  betijTtes  uieTVoca- 
tions  and  courses  they  mean  their  children  should 
take,  for  then  they  are  most  flexible ;  and  let 
them  not  too  much  apply  themselves  to  the  dis 
position  of  their  children,  as  thinking  theyjvvill 
take  best  to  that  which  theyjiave  most  mind  to. 
It  is  true,  that  if  the  affection,  or  aptness  of  the 
children  be  extraordinary,  then  it  is  good  not  to 

cross  it ;  but  generally  the  precept  is  good,  "  op- 
d*<  'J-4**    T       txLvLfwx  /rJLt  •>'to^»J*_"VA*^.wut~i  ^~ 
tirnum  elige,  suave  et  lacile  mud  facieF  consue- 

^ffrclo."  Younger  brothers  are  commonly  fortunate, 
but  seldom  or  never  where  the  elder  are  disinhe 
rited, 

VIII.  OF  MARRIAGE  AND  SINGLE  LIFE.* 

i^ut 

HE  that  hath  wife  and  children  hath  given  'hos 
tages  to  fortune  ;  for  they  are  impenimenis^o"'  great 
enterprises,  either  of  virtue  or  mischief.  Cer 
tainly  the  best  works,  and  of  grreatest  merit  for  the 
public,  have  proceeded  from  the  unmarried  or 

*  See  note  D,  at  the  end  of  the  Essays. 


childless  men;  which,  both  in  affection  and 
means, 'have  married  and  endowed  the  public. 
Yet  it  were  great  reason  that'  those  that  have 
children  should  have  greatest  care  of  future  times, 
unto  which  they  know  they  must  transmit  their 
dearest  pledges.  Some  there  are,  who,  though 
they  lead  a  single  life,  yet  their  thoughts  do 
with  themselves,  and  account  future  times  i 
tinences ;  nay,  there  are  some  other  that  account 
wife  and  children  but  as  bills  of  charges ;  nay 
more,  there  are  some  foolish  rich  covetous  men, 
that  take  a  pride  in  having  no  children,  because 
they  may  be  thought  so  much  the  richer ;  for,  per 
haps,  they  have  heard  some  talk,  "  Such  an  one 
is  a  great  rich  man,"  and  another  except  to  it. 
"  Yea,  but  he  hath  a  great  charge  of  children ;"  as 
if  it  were  an  abatement  to  his  riches  :  but  the 
most  ordinary  cause  of  a  sir^Mjfe 
especially  in  certain  self-ple^^K  and 
minds,  which  are  so  sensible^Bprery  rt 
they  will  go  near  to  think 
to  be  bonds  and  shackles, 
best  friends,  best  masters,  best  se 
always  best  subjects  ;  for  they  are 
away  ;  and  almost  all  fugitives  are  of  that  condi-  . 
tion.  A  single  life  doth  well  with  churchmen,  for 
charity  will  hardly  water  the  ground  where  it 
must  first  fill  a  pool.  It  is  indifferent  for  judges 
and  magistrates ;  .for-if  they  be  facile  and  corrupt, 
you  shall  have  a  servant  five  times  worse  than  a 
wife.  Forj^h^rs,  ^  finA.&e^Se,nerals commonly,  ^ 
in  their  hortatives^put  merrlnkiind  of  their  wives 
and  children ;  and  1  think  the  despising  of  mar 
riage  amongtlie  Turks  maketh  the  vulgar  soldier 
more  basl.  C crtainly  jwife  and  childreji_are  a 
kinj^of  discipline  of  humanity ;  and  single  men,~ 
though  "  ney  may  be  many  times  more  charitable^ 
because  their  means  are  less  exhaust,  yet,  on  the 
other  side,  they  are  more  cruel  and  hardhearted, 
(good  to  make  severe  inqufeitors|)  because  their 
tenderness  is  not  so  oft  called  upon.  Grave  na 
tures,  led  by  custom,  and  therefore  constant,  are 

_v.  ..  .S>- 

praetul 

LX-  •^-CXv^-K-u'* 

Chaste  women  are  often  proud  and  froward,  as 
presuming  upon  the  merit  of  themchastity.  It 
is  one  of  the  best  bonds,  both  of  cMstity  and  obe 
dience,  in  the  wife,  if  she  think  her  husband 
wise  ;  which  she  will  never  do  if  she  find  him 
jealous.  Wives  are  young  men's  mistresses, 
companions  for  middle  ^S^r^pdold  men's  nurses; 
so  as  a  man  may  have  aql^neTto  marry  when  he 
will :  but  yet  he  was  reputed  one  of  the  wise  men, 
that  made  answer  to  the  question  when  a  man 
should  marry : — "  A  young  man  not  yet,  an 
elder  man  not  at  all."  It  is  often  seen,  that  bad 
husbands  have  very  good  wives ;  whether  it  be 
that  it  raiseth  the  price  of  their  husband's  kind 
ness  when  it  comes,  or  that  the  wives  take  a  pride 
in  their  patience  ;  but  this  never  fails,  if  the  bad 
husbands  were  of  their  own  choosing,  against 


commonly  loving  husbands-as  was,  said,  of 

a  Ay-It* OM<--|*'*«-^  *r-i' ***?  °*-**  ^r? 
ses.    "  vetumm   Isuarn    praetulit    immortaii 


frl   - 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


17 


j     their  friends'  consent,  for  then  they  will  be  sure  to 
make  good  their  own  folly. 

IX.     OF  ENVY.t 

THERE  be  none  of  the  affections  which  have  been 
noted  to  fascinate,  or  be  witch,  but  love  and  envv  : 
they  both  have  vehement  wishes ;  they  frame 
themselves  readily  into  imaginations  and  sugges 
tions  ;  and  they  come  easily  into  the  eye,  espe 
cially  upon  the  presence  of  the^bjects,  which  are 
the  points  that  conduce  to  fascination,  if  any  such 
thing  there  be.  We  see,  likewise,  the  scripture 

/calleth  envy  an  evil  eye ;  and  the  astrologers  call 
the  evil  influences  of  the  stars  evil  aspects  ;  so 
that  still  there  seemeth  to  be  acknowledged,  in 
the  act  of  envy,  an  ejaculation,  or  irradiation  of 
the  eye :  nay,  some  have  been  so  curious  as  to 
note,  that  the  times,  when  the  stroke  or  percussion 
of  an  envious  eye  doth  most  hurt,  are,  when  the 
party  envied  is  beheld  in  glory  or  triumph ;  for 
that  sets  an  edge  upon  envy :  and  besides,  at  such 
times,  the  spirits  of  the  person  envied  do  come 
forth  most  into  the  outward  parts,  and  so  meet  the 
blow. 

But  leaving  these  curiosities, (though  not  unwor 
thy  to  be  thought  on  in  fit  place,)  we  will  handle 
what  persons  are  apt  to  envy  others ;  what  per 
sons  are  most  subject  to  be  envied  themselves ; 
and  what  is  the  difference  between  public  and  pri 
vate  envy. 
/  A  man  that  hath  no  virtue  in  himself,  ever  en- 

/vieth  virtue  in  others;  for  men's  minds  will  either 
feed  upon  their  own  good,  or  upon  others'  evil ; 
and  who  wanteth  the  one  will  prey  upon  the  other ; 
and  whoso  is  out  of  hope  to  attain  to  another's 
virtue,  will  seek  to  come  at  even  hand,  by  depress 
ing  another's  fortune^eS*! 
/A  man  that  is  busy  and  inquisitive  is  commonly 

/envious ;  for  to  know  much  of  other  men's  mat 
ters  cannot  be,  because  all  that  ado  may  concern 
his  own  estate ;  therefore  it  must  needs  be  that 
he  taketh  a  kind  of  play-pleasure  in  looking  upon 
the  fortunes  of  others  :  neither  can  he  that  mindeth 
but  his  own  business  find  much  matter  for  envy  ; 
for  envy  is  a  gadding  passion,  and  walketh  the 
streets,  and  doth  not  keep  home :  "  Non  est 
curiosus,  quin  idem  sit  malevolus." 
/Men  of  noble  birth,  are  noted  to  be  envious  to- 
.  /wards  new  men  when  they  rise  ;  for  the  distance 
is  altered ;  and  it  is  like  a  deceit  of  the  eye, 
that  when  others  come  on  they  think  themselves 
go  back. 
/'Deformed  persons  and  eunuchs,  and  old  men 

/and  bastards,  are  envious  :  for  he  that  cannot  pos 
sibly  nlend  his  own  case,  will  do  what  he  can  to 
impair  another's  ;  except  these  defects  light  upon 
a  very  brave  and  heroical  nature,  which  thinketh 
to  make  his  natural  wants  part  of  his  honour ;  in 
that  it  should  be  said,  "  That  an  eunuch,  or  a  lame 
man,  did  such  great  matters';  affecting  the  honour 

*  See  note  E,  at  the  end  of  the  Essays. 
VOL.  I.— 3 


of  a  miracle :  as  it  was  in  Narses  the  eunuch, 
and  Agesilaus  and  Tamerlane,  that  were  lame 
men. 

/fhe  same  is  the  case  of  men  who  rise  after  ca- 
^amities  and  misfortunes ;  for  they  are  as  men 
fallen  out  with  the  times,  and  think  other  men's 
harms  a  redemption  of  their  own  sufferings. 
/They  that  desire  to  excel  in  too  many  matters, 
/out  of  levity  and  vain  glory,  are  ever  envious,  for 
they  cannot  want  work  ;  it  being  impossible,  but 
many,  in  some  one  of  those  things,  should  surpass 
them ;  which  was  the  character  of  Adrian  the 
emperor,  that  mortally  envied  poets  and  paint 
ers,  and  artificers  in  works,  wherein  he  had  a 
ve^n  to  excel.  v 

/Lastly,  near  kinsfolks  and  fellows  in  office, and 
those  that  have  been  bred  together,  are  more  apt 
to  envy  their  equals  when  they  are  raised  ;  for  it 
doth  upbraid  unto  them  their  own  fortunes,  and 
pointeth  at  them,  and  cometh  oftener  into  their  re 
membrance,  and  incurreth  likewise  more  into 
the  note  of  others  ;  and  envy  ever  redoubleth  from 
speech  and  fame.  Cain's  envy  was  the  more 
vile  and  malignant  towards  his  brother  Abel,  be 
cause  when  his  sacrifice  was  better  accepted,  there 
was  no  body  to  look  on.  Thus  much  for  those 
that  are  apt  to  envy. 

Concerning  those  that  are  more  or  less  subject 
to  envy.  First,  persons  of  eminent  virtue,  wheri 
they  are  advanced,  are  less  envied  ;  for  their  for-! 
tune  seemeth  but  due  unto  them ;  and  no  man 
envieth  the  payment  of  a  debt,  but  rewards 
and  liberality  rather.  Again,  envy  is  ever  joined 
with  the  comparing  of  a  man's  self ;  and  where 
there  is  no  comparison,  no  envy])  and  therefore 
kings  are  not  envied  but  by  kings.  Nevertheless, 
it  is  to  be  noted,  that  unworthy  persons  are  most 
envied  at  their  first  coming  in,  and  afterwards 
overcome  it  better;  whereas,  contrariwise  per 
sons  of  worth  and  merit  are  most  envied  when 
their  fortune  continuelh  long';)  for  by  that  time, 
though  their  virtue  be  the  same,  yet  it  hath 
not  the  same  lustre,  for  fresh  men  grow  up  that 
darken  it. 

/Tersons  of  noble  blood  are  less  envied  in  their 
rising ;  for  it  seemeth  but  right  clone  to  their 
birth  :  besides,  there  seemeth  irot  much  added  to 
their  fortune ;  and  envy  is  as  the  sunbeams,  that 
beat  hotter  upon  a  bank,  or  steep  rising  ground, 
than  upon  a  fiat  ;  and,  for  the  same  reason,  those> 
that  are  advanced  by  degrees  are  less  envied' 
tlvm  those  that  are  advanced  suddenly,  and  "prr 
sal  turn." 

Those  that  have  joined  with  their  honour  great  j 
travels,  cares,  or  perils,  are  less  subject  to  envy  ?' 
for  men  think  that  they  earn  their  honours  hardly, 
and  pity  them  sometimes ;  and  vnity  ever  healeth 
envy ;  \vherefore  you  shall  observe  that  the  more 
deep  and  sober  sorts  of  politic  persons,  in  their 
greatness,  are  ever  bemoaning  themselves  what  a 
life  they  lead,  chanting  a  "  quanta  patimur;"  not 


18 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


that  they  feel  it  so,  but  only  to  abate  the  edge  of 
envy :  but  this  is  to  be  understood  of  business 
that  is  laid  upon  men,  and  not  such  as  they  call 
unto  themselves ;  for  nothing  increaseth  envy 
more  than  an  unnecessary  and  ambitious  engross 
ing  of  business ;  and  nothing  doth  extinguish 
envy  more  than  for  a  great  person  to  preserve  all 
other  inferior  officers  in  their  full  rights  and  pre 
eminences  of  their  places ;  for  by  that  means, 
there  be  so  many  screens  between  him  and  envy. 
Above  all,  those  are  most  subject  to  envy, 
which  carry  the  greatness  of  their  fortunes  in  an 
/  insolent  and  proud  manner :  being  never  well  but 
while  they  are  showing  how  great  they  are,  either 
by  outward  pomp,  or  by  triumphing  over  all  oppo 
sition  or  competition :  whereas  wise  men  will 
rather  do  sacrifice  to  envy,  in  suffering  themselves, 
sometimes  of  purpose,  to  be  crossed  and  over 
borne  in  things  that  do  not  much  concern  them. 
Notwithstanding  so  much  is  true,  that  the  car 
riage  of  greatness  in  a  plain  and  open  manner  (so, 
it  be  without  arrogancy  and  vain  glory)  doth  draw 
less  envy  than  if  it  be  in  a  more  crafty  and  cun 
ning  fashion ;  for  in  that  course  a  man  doth  but 
disavow  fortune,  and  seemeth  to  be  conscious  of 
his  own  want  in  worth,  and  doth  but  teach  others 
to  envy  him. 

Lastly,  to  conclude  this  part,  as  we  said  in  the 
beginning  that  the  act  of  envy  had  somewhat  in  it 
!  of  witchcraft,  so  there  is  no  other  cure  of  envy  but 
\  the  cure  of  witchcraft ;   and  that  is,  to  remove  the 
'  lot  (as  they  call  it)  and  to  lay  it  upon  another ; 
for  which  purpose,  the  wiser  sort  of  great  persons 
bring  in   ever   upon    the    stage    somebody  upon 
whom  to  derive  the  envy  that  would  come  upon 
themselves ;  sometimes  upon  ministers  and  ser 
vants,  sometimes  upon  colleagues  and  associates, 
and  the  like ;  and,  for  that  turn,  there  are  never 
wanting  some  persons  of  violent  and  undertaking 
natures,  who,  so  they  may  have  power  and  busi 
ness,  will  take  it  at  any  cost. 

Now,  to  speak  of  public  envy :  there  is  yet 
some  good  in  public  envy,  whereas  in  private 
there  is  none  ;  for  public  envy  is  as  an  ostracism, 
that  eclipseth  men  when  they  grow  too  great : 
and  therefore  it  is  a  bridle  also  to  great  ones  to 
keep  them  within  bounds. 

This  envy,  being  in  the  Latin  word  "invidia," 
goeth  in  the  modern  languages  by  the  name  of 
discontentment ;  of  which  we  shall  speak  in  hand 
ling  sedition.  It  is  a  disease  in  a  state  like  to 
infection :  for  as  infection  spreadeth  upon  that 
which  is  sound,  and  tainteth  it ;  so,  when  envy  is 
gotten  once  into  a  state,  it  traduceth  even  the  best 
actions  thereof,  and  turneth  them  into  an  ill 
odour ;  and  therefore  there  is  little  won  by  inter 
mingling  of  plausible  actions  :  for  that  doth  argue 
but  a  weakness  and  fear  of  envy,  which  hurteth 
so  much  the  more,  as  it  is  likewise  usual  in  in 
fections,  which,  if  you  fear  them,  you  call  them 
upon  you. 


/This  public  envy  seemeth  to  beat  chiefly  upon 
'principal  officers  or  ministers,  rather  than  upon 
kings  and  estates  themselves.  But  this  is  a  sure 
rule,  that  if  the  envy  upon  the  minister  be  great, 
when  the  cause  of  it  in  him  is  small ;  or  if  the 
envy  be  general  in  a  manner  upon  all  the  minis- 
ters  of  an  estate,  then  the  envy  (though  hidden) 
is  truly  upon  the  state  itself.  And  so  much  of 
public  envy  or  discontentment,  and  the  difference 
thereof  from  private  envy,  which  was  handled  in 
the  first  place. 

We  will  add  this  in  general,  touching  the  affec 
tion  of  envy,  that  of  all  other  affections  it  is  the 
most  importune  and  continual ;  for  of  other  affec 
tions  there  is  occasion  given  but  now  and  then ; 
and  therefore  it  was  well  said,  "  Invidia  festos 
dies  non  agit :"  for  it  is  ever  working  upon  some 
or  other.  And  it  is  also  noted,  that  love  and  envy 
do  make  a  man  pine,  which  other  affections  do 
not,  because  they  are  not  so  continual.  It  is  also 
/{he  vilest  affection,  and  the  most  depraved}  for 
which  cause  it  is  the  proper  attribute  of  the'devil, 
who  is  called  "The  envious  man,  that  soweth 
tares  amongst  the  wheat  by  night ;"  as  it  always 
cometh  to  pass,  that  envy  worketh  subtilly,  and 
in  the  dark,  and  to  the  prejudice  of  good  things, 
such  as  is  the  wheat. 


X.  OF  LOVE.* 

THE  stage  is  more  beholding  to  love,  than  the 
life  of  man;  for  as  to  the  stage,  love  is  even  mat 
ter  of  comedies,  and  now  and  then  of  tragedies  ; 
but  in  life  it  doth  much  mischief;  sometimes  like 
a  siren,  sometimes  like  a  fury.  ,  You  may  observe, 
that  anfolfgsF~all  tHe"  gre^t"and  \mrthy_persons 
(whereof  the  memory  remaineth,  either  ancient 
or  recent,)  there  is  not  one  that  hath  been  trans 
ported  to  the  mad  degree  of  love,  which  shows, 
that  great  spirits  and  great  business  do  keep  out 
this  weak  passion^.  You  must  except,  neverthe 
less,  Marcus  Antonius,  the  half  partner  of  the 
empire  of  Rbffie,  and  Appius  Claudius,  the  de 
cemvir  and  lawgiver, ;  whereof  the  former  was 
indeed  a  v^mpftio^s  man,  and c  inoftfTnafejf  but 
the  latter  was  an  dwifcev'e  and  wise  man  :  and 
therefore  it  seems  (though  rarely,)  that  love  can 
find  entrance,  not  only  into  an  open  heart,  but  also 
into  a  heart  well  fortified,  if  watch  be  not  well 
kept.  It  is  a  poor  sayino-  of  Epicurus,  "  Satis 

0-v£cw~oc.£c4  O-  /1***&*M  ~y~*3-*  *"***V"     ,,  •/. 

magnum  alter  afttenigeitrurn  sunrns  ;"•  as  if  man, 
made  for  the  contemplation1  of  heaven,  and  all 
noble  objects,  should  do  nothing  but  kneel  before 
a  little  idol,  and  make  himself  a  subject,  though 
not  of  the  mouth  (as  beasts  are,)  yet  of  the  eye, 
which  was  given  him  for  higher  purposes.  It  is 
a  strange  thing  to  note  the  excess  t>f  this  passion, 
and  how  it  braves  ThTTnature  aTid  value  of 
by  this,  that  the  speaking;  in  a  perpetual  hyj3e£ 
bole,  is  comely  in  nothing  but  in  love  :  neither  is 
'  *  See  note  F  at  the  end  of  the  Essays. 


k 


it  merely  in  the  phrase  ;  for  whereas  it  hath  been 
well  said,  "That  the  arch  flatterer,  with  whom 
a)  (  the  petty  flatterers  have  intelligence,  is  a  man's 
self;"  certainly  tlje  lover  is  more  ;  for  there  was 
never  proud  man  thought  so  absurdly  well  of 
himself  as  the  lover  doth  of  the  person  loved  ;#and 
therefore  it  was  well  said,  "  That  it  is.  impossible 
to  love.aGd^to  be  wise."  Neither  dotrjthis  weak 
ness  appear  to  others  only,~and  notTto  the  party 
loved,  but  tOpthe  loved  most  of  all,  except  the  love 
be  reciprocal;  foritis  a  true  rule,  that  love  is  ever 
re warcTecT,  "either  with  the  reciprocal,  or  with 
an  inward,  or  secret  contempt  ;  by  how  much 
the  more  men  oughT~fo"beware  of  this  passion, 
which  loseth  not  only  other  things,  but  itself. 
As  for  other  losses  the  poet's  relation  doth  well 
figure  them :  "Thathe  that  preferred  Helena,  quit 
ted  the  gifts  of  j{mo*and  Pallas  -^for  whosoever 
esteemeth  too  nwich  ofaniorous  affection,  quitteth 
b  otli^ches  "and  wTsfTop^  "This  passion  hath  his 
iloocis  In  the  ve7y^times.o^Aveakfcn^s,;which'  are, 
grear"prosperity  and__ great  aovSsifyTth o u gh  this 
latter  hath  been  less  observed  ;  both  which  times 
kindle  love,  and  make  it  more  frequent,  and  there 
fore  show  it  to  be  the  child  of  folly.  They  do 
best,  who/TrtrTeyTannot  but  admit  love,  yet  make 
it  keep  quarter,  and  sever  ifjwholly  from^their 
jserious  affairs  and  actiolis~c>Flife  f  for  if  it  check 
once  witrTbusiness,  it  troubleth  men's  fortunes, 
and  maketh  men  that  they  can  no  ways  be  true  to 
their  own  ends.  I  know  not  how^  but  martial 
jirien  are  gTveTr  to  love :  I  think  it  is,  But  as  the'y 
are  given  to  wine  ;  for  perils  commonly  ask  to  be 
paid  in  pleasures.  There  is  in  man's  nature  a  se 
cret  inclination  and  motion  towards  love  of  others, 
which,  if  it  be  not  spent  upon  some  one  or  a  few, 
doth  naturally  spi^ad  itself  towards  "many,  and 
maketh  men  become  humane  and  charitable,  as  it 
is  seen  sometimes  in  friars.  Nuptial  love  maketh 

i  •      i       c  •         n        i  'c  1-1  -C**^ 

mankind;  friendly  lo/sjjerfecteth  it;  but \vanton 
love  corrupteth  and  emDas^thit;'  ""•"" 


XL     OF  GREAT  PLACE. 

MEN  in  great  place  are  thrice  servants ;  servants 
of  the  sovereign  or  state,  servants  of  fame,  and 
servants  of  business  ;  so  as  th&y  have  no  freedom, 
neither  in  their  persons,  nor  in  their  actions,  nor 
in  their  times.  It  is  a  strange  desire  to  seek 
power  and  to  lose  liberty  ;<-or  to  seek  power  over 
others,  and  to  lose  power  .over  a  man's  self.  The 
rising  unto  place  is  laborious,  and  by  pains  men 
come  to  greater  pairjs;  and  it  is  sometimes  base, 
and  by  indignities  men  come  to  dignities.  The 
standing  is  slippery,  and  the  regress  is  either  a 
downfall,  or  at  least  an  eclipse,  which  is  a  melan 
choly  thing  :  "  Cum  non  sis  qui  fueris,  non  esse 
cur  velis  vivere."  Nay,  retire  men  cannot  when 
they  would,  neither  will  they  when  it  were  rea 
son  ;  but  are  impatient  of  privateness  even  in  age 
and  sickness,  which  require  the'  shaded  :'\  like 


19 


old  townsmen,  that  will  be  still  sitting  at  their 
street  door,  though  thereby  they  offer  age  to  scorn. 
Certainly  great  persons  had  need  to  borrow  other 
men's  opinions  to  think  themselves  happy ;  for 
if  they  judge  by  their  own  feeling,  they  cannot 
find  it :  but  if  they  think  with  themselves  what 
other  men  think  of  them,  and  that  other  men 
would  fain  be  as  they  are,  then  they  are  happy  as 
it  were  by  report,  when,  perhaps,  they  find  the 
contrary  within ;  for  they  are  the  first  that  find 
their  own  griefs,  though  they  be  the  last  that  find 
their  own  faults _- Certainly  men  in  great  for 
tunes  are  strangers  to  themselves,  and  while  they 
are  in  the  puzzle  of  business  they  have  no  time  to 
tend  their  health  either  of  body  or  mind  :  "  Illi 
mors  gravis  incubat,  qui  notus  nimis  omnibus,  ig- 
notus  moritur  sibi."  In  place  there  is  license  to 
do  good  and  evil ;  whereof  the  latter  is  a  curse  : 
tor  in  evil  the  best^condition  is  not  to  will  ;  the 
second  not  to  canjBut  power  to  do  good  is  the 
true  and  lawful  enoof  aspiring  ;  for  good  thoughts 
(though  God  accept  them,)  yet  towards  men  aro 
little  better  than  good  dreams,  except  they  be  put 
'in  act ;  and^  that  cannot  be  without  power  and 
place,,  as  the  vantage  and  commanding  ground.  / 
Merit,  and  good  works  is  the  end  of  man's  mo-' 
tioTTfand  conscience  of  the  same  is"th'e~accom-  \ 
plishment  of  man's  rest;  for  if  a  man  can  be  : 
partaker  of  God's  theatre,  he  shall  likewise  be  j 
partaker  of  God's  rest :  "Et  conversus  Deus,  ut  as-  • . 
piceret  opera,  quae  fecerunt  manussuae,  viditqucd  \. 
bmnia  essent  bona  nimis  ;"  and  then  the  sabbath. 
In  the  discharge  of  the  place  set  before  thee  thVJ". 
best  examples;  for  imitation  is  a  globe  of  pre 
cepts  ;  and  after  a  time  set  before  thine  own  ex 
ample  ;  and  examine  thyself  strictly  whether  then 
didst  not  best  at  first.  Neglect  not  ajsfi.^h.e^ex- 
ainplesj^f  those  that  have  carried  themselves  ill 
in* the  same  place;  not  to  set  off  thyself  by  tax 
ing  their  memory,  but  to  direct  thyself  what  to 
avoid.  Reform,  therefore,  without  bravery  or 
scandal  of  former  times  and  persons  ;  but  yet  set 
it  down  to  thyself,  as  well  to  create  good  prece 
dents  as  to  follow  them.  RftdilQS  thin.gS.to  the 
first  institution,  and  observe  wherein  and  how 
they  have  degenerated  ;  but  yet  ask  counsel  of 
both  times  ;  of  the  ancienter  time  what  is  best ; 
and  of  the  latter  time  what  is  fittest.  Seek  to 
make  thy  course  regular,  that  men  may  know  be 
forehand  what  they  may  expect;  but  be  not  too 
positive  and  peremptory ;  and  express  thyself 
well  when  thou  digressest  from  thy  lure.  Pre 
serve  the  right  of  thy  place,  but  stir  not  questions 
of  jurisdiction ;  and  rather  assume  thy  right  in 
silence,  and  "  de  facto,"  than  voice  it  with  claims 
and  challenges.  Preserve  likewise  the  rights  of 
inferior  places  ;  and  think  it  more  honour  to  direct 
in  chief  than  to  be  busy  in  all.  Embrace  and  in 
vite  helps  and  advices  touching  the  execution  ot 
thy  place;  and  Jo  not  drive  a  way  such  as  bring 
thee  information  as  meddlers,  but  accept  of  them 


20 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND 


in  good  part.  The  vices  of  authority  are  chiefly 
four  ;  delays,  corruption,  roughness,  and  facility. 
For  delays  give  easy  access  :  keep  times  appoint 
ed  ;  go  through  with  that  which  is  in  handj  and 
interlace  not  business  but  of  necessity.  For  cor 
ruption,  do  not  only  bind  thine  own  hands  or  thy 
servant's  hands  from  taking,  but  bind  the  hands 
of  suitors  also  from  offering ;  for  integrity  used 
doth  the  one  ;  but  integrity  professed,  and  with 
a  manifest  detestation  of  bribery,  doth  the  other  ; 
and  avoid  not  only  the  fault,  but  the  suspicion. 
Whosoever  is  found  variable,  and  changeth  mani 
festly  without  manifest  cause,  giveth  suspicion 
of  corruption  ;  therefore,  always  whenthou  chang- 
est  thine  opinion  or  course,  profess  it  plainly,  and 
declare  it,  together  with  the  reasons  that  move  thee 
to  change,  and  do  not  think  to  steal  it.  A  ser 
vant  or  a  favourite,  if  he  be  inward,  and  no.  other 
apparent  cause  of  esteem,  i^gommonly  thought 
but  a  by-way  to  close  corruptBn.  For  roughness, 
it  is  a  needless  cause  of  cuscontent ;  severity 
breedeth fear,  but  roughness  breedeth  hate.  Even 
reproofs  from  authority  pught  to  be  grave,  and  not 
taunting.  As  for  facility,  it  is  worse  than  bribery ; 
for  bribes  come  but"  now  and  then;  but  if  impor 
tunity  or  idle  respects  lead  a  man,  he  shall  never 
be  without ;  as  Solomon  saith,  "  To  respect  per 
sons  is  not  good,  for  such  a  man  will  transgress 
for  a  piece  of  bread."  It  is  most  true  that  was 
anciently  spoken,  "  A  place  showeth  the  man  ; 
and  it  showeth  some~tb~  tHe' better  and  some  to 
the  worse;"  "omnium  consensu  capax  imperil, 
nisi  imperasset,"  saith  Tacitus  of  Galba ;  but  of 
Vespasian  he  saith,  "  solus  imperantium,  Ves- 
pasianus  mutatus  in  melius ;"  though  the  one 
was  meant  of  sufficiency,  the  other  of  manner-s 
and  affection.  It  is  an  assured  sign  of  a  worthy 
and  generous  spirit,  whom, honour  amends;-  for 
honour  is,  or  should  be,  the  place  of  virtue  ;  and 
as  in  nature  things  move  violently  to  their  place 
and  calmly  in  their  place,  so  virtue  in  ambition, 
is  violent,  in  authority  settled  and  calm*-  All 
rising  to  great  place  is  by  a  winding  stair ;  and 
if  there  be  factions,  it  is  good  to  side  a  man's  self 
whilst  he  is  in  the  rising,  and  to  balance  himself 
when  he  is  placed.  Use  the  memory  of  thy  pre 
decessor  fairly  and  tenderly  ;  for  if  thou  dost  not, 
it  is  a  debt  will  sure  be  paid  when  thou  art  gone, 
If  thou  have  colleagues,  respect  them  ;  and  rather 
call  them  when  they  looked  not  fof  it,  than  exclude 
them  when  they  have  reason  to  look  to  be  called. 
Be  not  too  sensible  or  too  remembering  of  thy 
place  in  conversation  and  private'  answers  to 
suitors  ;  but  let  it  rather  be  said,  "  When  he  sits 
in  place  he  is  another  man." 

XII.     OF  BOLDNESS. 

IT  is  a  trivial  grammar-school  text,  but  yet 
worthy  a  wise  man's  consideration.  Question 
was  asked  of  Demosthenes  what  was  the  chief 


part  of  an  orator  ?  he  answered,  action  :  what 
next?  action:  what  next  again1?  action.  He  said 
it  that  knew  it  best,  and  had  by  nature  himself  no 
advantage  in  that  he  commended,  A  strange 
thing,  that  that  part  of  an  orator  whicb^is  but  su 
perficial,  and  rather  the  virtue  of  a  player,  should 
be  placed  so  high  above  those  other  noble  parts  of 
invention,  elocution,  and  the^  rest;  nay  almost 
alone,  as  if  it  were  all  in  all.  But  the  reason  is 
plain.  There  is  in  human  nature  generally  more 
of  the  fool  than  of  the  wise;  and  therefore  those 
faculties  by  which  the  foolish  part  of  men's  minds 
is  taken,  are  most  potent.  Wonderful  like  is  the 
case  of  boldness  in  civil  business;  what  first? 
boldness  :  what  second  and  third  ]  boldness :  And 
yet  boldness  isjijchild  of  ignorance  and  baseness, 
far  inferior  to  other  parts  :  but  nevertheless,  it  doth 
fascinate,  and  bind  hand  and  foot  those  that  are 
either  shallow  in  judgment  or  weak  in  courage,  , 
which  are  the  greatest  part :  yea,  and  prevailctl/ 
with  wise  men  at  w.eak  times  :  therefore  we  see  it 
hath  done  wonders  in  popular  states,  but  with 
senates  and  princes  less ;  and  more,  ever  upon 
the  first  entrance  of  bold  persons  into  action 
than  soon  after;  for  boldness  is  an  ill  keeper  of 
promise.  Surely  as  there  are  mountebanks  for 
the  natural  body ;  so  are  there  mountebanks  for 
the  politic  body  ;  men  that  undertake  great  cures, 
and  perhaps  have  been  lucky  in  two  or  three  ex 
periments,  but  want  the  grounds  of  science,  nnd 
therefore  cannot  hold  out :  nay,  you  shall  see  a 
bold  fellow  many  times  do  Mahomet's  miracle. 
Mahomet  made  the  people  believe  that  he  would 
call  a  hill  to  him,  and  from  the  top  of  it  offer  up 
Jiis  prayers  for  the  observers  of  his  law.  The 
people  assembled  :  Mahomet  called  the  hill  to 
come  to  him  again  and  again;  and  when  the  hill 
stood  still,  he  was  never  a  whit  abashed,  but  said, 
"If  the  hill  will  not  come  to  Mahomet,  Mahomet 
will  go  to  the  hill."  So  these  men,  when  they 
h^ve  promised  great  matters  and  failed  most 
shamefully,  yet  (if  they  have  the  perfection  of 
boldness)  they  will  but  slight  it  over,  and  rapke 
a  turn  and  no  more  ado.  Certainly  to  m$n  of 
great  j udgment,  bold  persons  are  a  sport  to  be 
hold ;  nay,  and  to  the  vulgar  also  boldness  hath 
somewhat  of  the  ridiculous :  for  if  absurdity  be 
the  subject  of  laughter,  doubt  you  not  but  great 
boldness  is  seldom  without  some  absurdity; 
especially  it  is  a  sport  to  see  when  a  bold  fellow 
is  out  of  countenance,  for  that  puts  his  face  into 
a  most  shrunken  and  wooden  posture  as  needs  it 
must;^for  in  bashfulness  the  spirits  do  a  little  go 
and  come ;  but  with  bold  men,  upon  like  occasion, 
they  stand  at  a  stay;  like  a  stale  at  chess,  where 
it  is  no  mate,  but  yet  the  game  cannot  stir:  but 
this  last  were  fitter  for  a  satire  than  for  a  serious 
observation.  This  is  well  to  be  weighed,  that 
boldness  is  ever  blind  ;  for  it  seeth  not  dangers 
and  inconveniences :  therefore  it  is  ill  in  counsel, 
good  in  execution ;  so  that  the  right  use  of  bold 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


21 


persons  is,  that  they  never  command  in  chief,  but 
be  seconds  and  under  the  direction  of  others ;  for 
in  counsel  it  is  good  to  see  dangers,  and  in  execu 
tion  not  to  see  them  except  they  be  very  great. 


XIII 


OF   GOODNESS  AND    GOODNESS 
OF  NATURE. 


I  TAKE  goodness  in  this  sense,  the  affecting  of 
the  weal  of  men,  which  is  that  the  Grecians  call 
Philanthropia;  and  the  word  humanity  ^as  it  is 
used)  is  a  little  too  light  to  express  it.  Good 
ness  I  call  the  habit,  and  goodness  of  nature  the 
inclination.  This  of  all  virtues  and  dignities  of 
the  mind  is  the  greatest,  being  the  character  of 
the  Deity :  and  without  it  man  is  a  busy,  mischie 
vous,  wretched  thing,  no  better  than  a  kind  of 
vermin.  Goodness  answers  to  the  theological 
virtue  charity,  and  admits  no  excess  but  error. 
The  desire  of  power  in  excess  caused  the  angels 
to  fall :  the  desire  of  knowledge  in  excess  caused 
man  to  fall:  but  in  charity  there  is  no  excess,  neither 
can  angel  or  man  come  in  danger  by  it.  The  in 
clination  to  goodness  Ls  imprinted  deeply  in  the 
nature  of  man ;  insomuch,  that  if  it  issue  not  to 
wards  men,  it  will  take  unto  other  living  crea 
tures  ;  as  it  is  seen  in  the  Turks,  a  cruel  people, 
who  nevertheless  are  kind  to  beasts,  and  give 
alms  to  dogs  and  birds  ;  insomuch,  as  Busbechius 
reporteth,  a  Christian  boy  in  Constantinople  had 
liked  to  have  been  stoned  for  gagging  in  a  wag- 
gishness  a  long-billed  fowl.  Errors  indeed,  in 
this  virtue,  of  goodness  or  charity,  may  be  com 
mitted.  The  Italians  have  an  ungracious  proverb, 
"Tanto  buon  che  val  niente;"  "So  good,  that 
he  is  good  for  nothing:"  and  one  of  the  doctors 
of  Italy,  Nicholas  Machiavel,  had  the  confidence 
to  put  in  writing  almost  in  plain  terms,  "  That  the 
Christian  faith  had  given  up  good  men  in  prey  to 
those  that  are  tyrannical  and  unjust;"  which  he 
spake,  because,  indeed,  there  was  never  law  or  se»t 
or  opinion  ^did  so  much  magnify  goodness  as  the 
Christian  religion  doth ;  therefore  to  avoid  the  scan 
dal  and  the  danger  both,  it  is  good  to  take  know 
ledge  of  the  errors  of  an  habit  so  excellent.  Seek 
the  good  of  other  men,  but  be  not  in  bondage  to  their 
faces  or  fancies ;  for  that  is  but  facility  or  softness, 
which  taketh  an  honest  mind  prisoner.  Neither 
give  thou  ^E  sop's  cock  a  gem,  who  would  be  better 
pleased  and  happier  if  he  had  a  barley-corn.* 
The  example  of  God  teacheth  the  lesson  truly ; 
"  He  sendeth  his  rain,  and  maketh  the  sun  to 
shine  tipon  the  just  and  the  unjust ;"  but  l«fe  doth 
riot  rain  wealth,  nor  shine  honour  and  virtues  upon 
men  equally ;  common  benefits  are  to  be  commu- 
nicatsd  with  all,  but  peculiar  benefits  with  choice. 
And  beware  how  in  making  the  portraiture  thou 
breakest  the  pattern  :  for  divinity  maketh  the  love 
of  ourselves  the  pattern  ;  the  love  of  our  neigh 
bours  but  the  portraiture  :  "  Sell  all  thou  hast  and 
*  See  note  G,  at  the  end  of  the  Essays. 


give  it  to  the  poor,  and  follow  me ;"  but  sell  not 
all  thou  hast  except  thou  come  and  follow  me; 
that  is,  except  thou  have  a  vocation  wherein  thou 
mayest  do  as  much  good  with  little  means  as 
with  great;  for  otherwise,  in  feeding  the  streams, 
thou  driest  the  fountain.  Neither  is  there  only 
a  habit  of  goodness  directed  by  right  reason  ; 
but  there  is  in  some  men,  even  in  nature,  a  dispo 
sition  towards  it ;  as  on  the  other  side,  there  is  a 
natural  malignity ;  for  there  be  that  in  their  na 
ture  do  not  affect  the  good  of  others.  The  lighter 
sort  of  malignity  turneth  but  to  a  crossness,  or 
frowardness,  or  aptness  to  oppose,  or  difficileness, 
or  the  like  ;  but  the  deeper  sort  to  envy,  and  mere 
mischief.  Such  men  in  other  men's  calamities, 
are,  as  it  were,  in  season,  and  are  ever  on  the  load 
ing  ftart:  not  so  good  as  the  dogs  that  licked 
Lazarus'  sores,  but  like  flies  that  are  still  buzzing 
upon  any  thing  that  is  raw ;  misanthropi,  that 
make  it  their  practice  to  bring  men  to  the  bough, 
and  yet  have  neveflk  tree  for  the  purpose  in  their 
gardens,  as  Timon  had ;  such  dispositions  are  the 
very  errors  of  human  nature,  and  yet  they  are 
the  fittest  timber  to  make  great  politics  of ;  like 
to  knee  timber,  that  is  good  for  ships  that  are  or 
dained  to  be  tossed,  but  not  for  building  houses 
that  shall  stand  firm.  The  parts  and  signs  of 
goodness  are  many.  If  a  man  be  gracious  and 
courteous  to  strangers,  it  shows  he  is  a  citizen  of 
the  world,  and  that  his  heart  is  no  island  cut  off 
from  other  lands,  but  a  continent  that  joins  to 
them  :  if  he  be  compassionate  towards  the  afflic 
tions  of  others,  it  shows  that  his  heart  is  like  the 
noble  tree  that  is  wounded  itself  when  it  gives  the 
balm  :  if  he  easily  pardons  and  remits  offences,  it 
shows  that  his  mind  is  planted  above  injuries,  so 
that  he  cannot  be  shot:  if  he  be  thankful  for  small 
benefits,  it  shows  that  he  weighs  men's  minds,  and 
not  their  trash  :  but,  above  all,  if  he  have  St. 
Paul's  perfection,  that  he  would  wish  to  be  an 
anathema  from  Christ  for  the  salvation  of  his 
brethren,  it  shows  much  of  a  divine  nature,  and  a 
kind  of  conformity  with  Christ  himself. 

XIV.     OF  NOBILITY. 

WE  will  speak  of  nobility  first  as  a  portion  of 
an  estate,  then  as  a  condition  of  particular  per 
sons.  A  monarchy  where  there  is  no  nobility 
at  all,  is  ever  a  pure  and  absolute  tyranny,  as  that 
of  the  Turks  ;  for  nobility  attempers  sovereignty, 
and  draws  the  eyes  of  the  people  somewhat  aside 
from  the  line  royal ;  but  for  democracies  they 
need  it  not ;  and  they  are  commonly  more  quiet 
and,  less  subject  to  sedition,  than  where  there  are 
stirps  of  nobles ;  for  men's  eyes  are  upon  the 
business,  and  not  upon  the  persons ;  or  if  upon 
the  persons,  it  is  for  the  business'  sake,  as  fittest, 
and  not  for  flags  and  pedigree.  We  see  the  Swit- 
zers  last  well,  notwithstanding  their  diversity  of 
religion  and  of  cantons  ;  for  utility  is  their  bond, 


22 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


and  not  respects.  The  united  provinces  of  the 
Low  Countries  in  their  government  excel;  for 
where  there  is  an  equality  the  consultations  are 
more  indifferent,  and  the  payments  and  tributes 
more  cheerful.  A  great  and  potent  nobility 
addeth  majesty  to  a  monarch,  but  diminisheth 
power,  and  putteth  life  and  spirit  into  the  people, 
but  presseth  their  fortune.  It  is  well  when  nobles 
are  not  too  great  for  sovereignty  nor  for  justice  ; 
and  yet  maintained  in  that  height,  as  the  insolen- 
cy  of  inferiors  may  be  broken  upon  them  before  it 
come  on  too  fast  upon  the  majesty  of  kings.  A 
numerous  nobility  causeth  poverty  and  inconve 
nience  in  a  state,  for  it  is  a  surcharge  of  expense  ; 
and  besides,  it  being  of  necessity  that  many  of  the 
nobility  fall  in  time  to  be  weak  in  fortune,  it  mak- 
eth  a  kind  of  disproportion  between  honour  and 
means. 

As  for  nobility  in  particular  persons,  it  is  a  re 
verend  thing  to  see  an  ancient  castle  or  building 
not  in  decay,  or  to  see  a  fair"  timber  tree  sound 
and  perfect ;  how  much  more  to  behold  an  an 
cient  noble  family,  which  hath  stood  against  the 
waves  and  weathers  of  time]  for  new  nobility  is 
but  the  act  of  power,  but  ancient  nobility  is  the  act 
of  time.  Those  that  are  first  raised  to  nobility 
are  commonly  more  virtuous,  but  less  innocent, 
than  their  descendants ;  for  there  is  rarely  any  ris 
ing  but  by  a  commixture  of  good  and  evil  arts; 
but  it  is  reason  the  memory  of  their  virtues  remain 
to  their  posterity,  and  their  faults  die  with  them 
selves.  Nobility  of  birth  commonly  abateth  in 
dustry  ;  and  he  that  is  not  industrious,  envieth 
him  that  is;  besides  noble  persons  cannot  go 
much  higher  :  and  he  that  standeth  at  a  stay  when 
others  rise,  can  hardly  avoid  motions  of  envy. 
On  the  other  side,  nobility  extinguisheth  the 
passive  envy  from  others  towards  them,  because 
they  are  in  possession  of  honour.  Certainly,  kings 
that  have  able  men  of  their  nobility  shall  find  ease 
in  employing  them,  and  a  better  slide  into  their 
business;  for  people  naturally  bend  to  them  as 
born  in  some  sort  to  command. 

XV.  OF  SEDITIONS  AND  TROUBLES. 

SHEPHERDS  of  people  had  need  know  the  calen- 
i  dars  and  tempests  in  state,  which  are  commonly 

greatest  when  things  grow  to  equality  ;  as  natural 
•  tempests  are  greatest  about  the  ejminoctia ;  and  as 
^jjthere  are  certain  hollow  blasts  of  wind  and  secret 
''  swellings  of  seas  before  a  tempest,  so  are  therein 

states ; 

,      "  Ille  etiam  creci 

vjX^      S;i>pe  ninnet, 

.^i?  Libels  and  Ijcen^^^yj^'discourses  against  the 
stateTwlien  they  are  frequent  and  open  ;  and  in  like 
sort  false  news  often  running  up  and  down,  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  state,  and  hastily  embraced, 
are  amongst  the  signs  of  troubles.  Virgil,  giv 
ing  the  pedigree  of  Fame,  saith  she  was  sister  to 
the  giants : 


"Illam  Tefra  parens,  ira  irritata  Deorurn, 
Extremam  (ut  perhibent)  Coeo  Enceladoque  sororem 
Progenuit." 

As  if  fames  were  the  relics  of  seditions  past; 
but  they  are  no  less  indeed  the  preludes  of  seditions 
to  come.  Howsoever  he  noteth  it  rigrtt,  that  se 
ditious  tumults  and  seditious  fames  differ  no  more 
but  as  brother  and  sister,  masculine  and  feminine  ; 
especially  if  it  come  to  that,  that  the  best  actions 
of  a  state,  and  the  most  plausible,  which  ought  to 
give  greatest  contentment,  are  taken  in  ill  sense, 
and  tt^diicgcL:  for  that  shows  the  envy  great,  as 
Tacitus  saith,  "  conilata,  magnainvidia,  seubene, 
seu  male,  gesta  premunt."  Neither  doth  it  follow, 
that  because  these  fames  are  a  sign  of  troubles, 
that  the  suppressing  of  them  with  too  much  se 
verity  should  be  a  remedy  of  troubles;  for  the  de 
spising  of  them  many  times  checks  them  best, 
and  the  going  about  to  stop  them  doth  but  make 
a  wonder  long  lived.  Also  that  kind  of  obedi 
ence,  which  Tacitus  speaketh  of,  is  to  be  held  sus 
pected  :  "  Erant  in  officio,  sed  tamen  qui  mallent 
mandata  imperantium  interpretari,  quarn  exequi ;" 
disputing,  excusing,  cavilling  upon  mandates  and 
directions,  is  a  kind  of  shaking  oil  the  yoke,  and 
assay  of  disobedience;  especially  if  in  those  dis- 
putings  they  which  are  for  the  direction  speak 
fearfully  and  tenderly,  and  those  that  are  against 
it  audaciously. 

Also,  as  Machiavel  noteth  well,  when  princes, 
that  ought  to  be  common  parents,  make  themselves 
as  a  party  and  lean  to  a  side  :  it  is,  as  a  boat  that 
is  overthrown  by  uneven  weight  on  the  one  side ; 
as  was  well  seen  in  the  time  of  Henry  the  Third 
of  France  ;  for  first  himself  entered  league  for  the 
extirpation  of  the  Protestants,  and  presently  after 
the  same  league  was  turned  upon  himself:  for 
when  the  authority  of  princes  is  made  but  an  ac 
cessary  to  a  cause,  and  that  there  be  other  bands 
that  tie  faster  than  the  band  of  sovereignty,  kings 
bqgin  to  be  put  almost  out  of  possession. 

Also,  when  discords,  and  quarrels,  and  factions, 
are  carried  openly  and  audaciously,  it  is  a  sign  the 
reverence  of  government  is  lost ;  for  the  motions 
of  the  greatest  persons  in  a  government  ought  to 
be  as  the  motions  of  the  planets  under  "  primum 
mobile,"(according  to  the  old  opinion,)  which  is, 
that  every  of  them  is  carried  swiftly  by  the  high 
est  motion,  and  softly  in  their  own  motion  ;  and, 
therefore,  when  great  ones  in  their  own  particular 
motion  move  violently,  and,  as  Tacitus  expresseth 
it  well,  "  liberius  quam  ut  imperantium  memi- 
nissenV'it  *s  a  sign  the  orbs  are  out  of  frame  :  for 
reverence  is  that  wherewith  princes  are  girt  from 
God,  whothreateneth  the  dissolving  thereof ;  "sol- 
vain  cingula  regain." 

So  when  any  of  the  four  pillars  of  government 
are  mainly  shaken,  or  weakened,  (which  are  reli 
gion,  justice,  counsel,  and  treasure,)  men  had 
need  to  pray  for  fair  weather.  But  let  us  pass, 
from  this  part  of  predictions,  (concerning  which* 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


23 


nevertheless,  more  light  may  be  taken  from  that 
which  followeth,)  and  let  us  speak  first  of  the 
materials  of  seditions,  then  of  the  motives  of  them, 
ar;d  thirdly  of  the  remedies. 

/  Concerning  the  materials  of  seditions,  it  is  a 
/thing  well  to  he  considered  ;  for  the  surest  way 
I  /  to  prevent  seditions,  (if  the  times  do  bear  it,)  is  to 
(/    take  away  the  matter  of  them ;  for  if  there  be  fuel 
f        prepared,  it  is  hard  to  tell  whence  the  spark  shall 
come  that  shall  set  it  on  fire.     The  matter  of  se 
ditions  is  of  two  kinds,  much  poverty  and  much 
discontentment.    It  is  certain^so majnj  overthrown 
estates,  so  many  votes  for  troubles.     Lucan  noteth 
well  the  state  of  Rome  before  the  civil  war, 

"  Hinc  usura  vorax,  rapidumque  in  tempore  foenus, 
Hinc  concussa  fides,  et  multis  utile  bellum." 

This  same  "  multus  utile  bellum,"  is  an  assured 
and  infallible  sign  of  a  state  disposed  to  seditions 
and  troubles ;  and  if  this  poverty  and  broken 
/  estate  in  the  better  sort  be  joined  with  a  want  and 
//  necessity  in  the  mean  people,  the  danger  is  im 
minent  and  great ;  for  the  rebellions  of  the  belly 
are  the  worst.  As  for  discontentments,  they  are 
in  the  politic  body  like  humours  in  the  natural, 
which  are  apt  to  gather  a  preternatural  heat  and  to 
inflame;  and  let  no  prince  measure  the  danger  of 
them  by  this,  whether  they  be  just  or  unjust :  for 
that  were  to  imagine  people  to  be  too  reasonable, 
who  do  often  spurn  at  their  own  good  ;  nor  yet  by 
this,  whether  the  griefs  whereupon  they  rise  be 
in  fact  great  or  small ;  for  they  are  the  most  dan 
gerous  discontentments  where  the  fear  is  greater 
than  the  feeling :  "  Dolendi  modus,  timendi  non 
item :"  besides,  in  great  oppressions,  the  same 
things  that  provoke  the  patience,  do  withal  mate 
the  courage  :  but  in  fears  it  is  not  so  ;  neither  let 
any  prince,  or  state,  be  secure  concerning  discon 
tentments  because  they  have  been  often,  or  have 
been  long,  and  yet  no  peril  hath  ensued  ;  for  as  it 
is  true  that  every  vapour,  or  fume,  doth  not  turn 
into  a  storm,  so  it  is  nevertheless  true,  that 
storms,  though  they  blow  over  divers  times,  yet 
may  fall  at  last;  and  as  the  Spanish  proverb 
noteth  well,  "  The  cord  breaketh  at  the  last  by 
the  weakest  pull." 

The  causes  and  motions  of  seditions  are  innova 
tion  in  religion,  taxes,  alteration  of  laws  and  cus 
toms,  breaking  of  privileges,  general  oppression, 
advancement  of  unworthy  persons,  strangers, 
dearths,  disbanded  soldiers,  factions  grown  des 
perate  ;  and  whatsoever  in  offending  people  join- 
eth  and  knitteth  them  in  a  common  cause. 

For  the  remedies,  there  may  be  some  general 
preservatives,  whereof  we  will  speak  :  as  for  the 
just  cure  it  must  answer  to  the  particular  disease ; 
and  so  be  left  to  counsel  rather  than  rule. 

The  first  remedy,  or  prevention,  is  to  remove,  by 
all  means  possible,  that  material  cause  of  sedition 
whereof  we  speak,  which  is,  want  and  poverty  in 
the  estate ;  to  which  purpose  serveth  the  opening 


and  well-balancing  of  trade  ;  the  cherishing  of 
manufactures  ;  the  banishing  of  idleness  ;  the  re 
pressing  of  waste  and  excess,  by  sumptuary  laws  ; 
the  improvement  and  husbanding  of  the  soil  ;  the 
regulating  of  prices  of  things  vendible  ;  the  mo 
derating  of  taxes  and  tributes,  and  the  like.  Gene 
rally,  it  is  to  be  foreseen  that  the  population  of  a 
kingdom  (especially  if  it  be  not  mown  down  by 
wars)  do  not  exceed  the  stock  of  the  kingdom  which 
should  maintain  them  :  neither  is  the  population  to 
be  reckoned  only  by  number  ;  for  a  smaller  num 
ber  that  spend  more  and  earn  less,  do  wear  out  an 
estate  sooner  than  a  greater  number  that  live  lower 
and  gather  more  ;  therefore  the  multiplying  of  no 
bility,*  and  other  degrees  of  quality,  in  an  over 
proportion  to  the  common  people,  doth  speedily 
bring  a  state  to  necessity  ;  and  so  doth  likewise 
an  overgrown  clergy,  for  they  bring  nothing  to 
the  stock  ;  and,  in  like  manner,  when  more  are 
bred  scholars  than  preferments  can  take  off. 

It  is  likewise  to  be  remembered,  that  forasmuch 
as  the  increase  of  any  estate  must  be  upon  the 
foreigner,  (for  whatsoever  is  somewhere  gotten,  is 
somewhere  lost,)  there  be  but  three  things  which 
one  nation  selleth  unto  another  ;  the  commodity, 
as  nature  yieldeth  it  ;  the  manufacture  ;  and  the 
victure,  or  carriage  ;  so  that  if  these  three  wheels 
go,  wealth  will  flow  as  in  a  spring  tide.  And  it 
cometh  many  times  to  pass,  that  "materiam  supera- 
bit  opus,"  that  the  work  and  carriage  is  more  worth 
than  the  material,  and  enricheth  a  state  more;  as  is 
notably  seen  in  the  Low  Countrymen,  who  have 
the  best  mines  above  ground  in  the  world. 

Above  all  things,  good  policy  is  to  be  used, 
that  the  treasure  and  monies  in  a  state  be  not 
gathered  into  few  hands  ;  for,  otherwise,  a  state 
may  have  a  great  stock,  and  yet  starve  :  and 
money  is  like  muck,  not  good  except  it  be 
spread.  This  is  done  chiefly  by  suppressing,  or, 
at  the  least,  keeping  a  strait  hand  upon  the  devour 
ing  trades  of  usury,  engrossing,  great  pasturages, 
and  the  like. 

For  removing  discontentnrrentS^Or"  at  least  the 
danger  of  them,  there  is  in  every  state  (as  we 
know)  two  portions  of  subjects,  the  nobles  and 
the  commonality.  When  one  of  these  is  discon 
tent,  the  danger  is  not  great  ;  for  common  people 
are  of  slow  motion,  if  they  be  not  excited  by  the 
oreater  sort  ;  and  the  greater  sort  are  of  small 
strength,  except  the  multitude  be  apt  and  ready 
to  move  of  themselves  :  then  is  the  danger,  when 
the  greater  sort  do  but  wait  for  the  troubling  of  the 
waters  amongst  the  meaner,  that  then  they  may 
declare  themselves.  The  poets  feign  that  the  rest 
of  the  gods  would  have  bound  Jupiter,  which  he 
hearing  of,  by  the  counsel  of  Pallas,  sent  for  Bri- 
areus,  with  his  hundred  hands,  to  come  in  to  his 
aid  :  an  emblem}1  no^  doubt,  to  show  hqpr  safe  it  is 
for  monarchs  ,to  -iftakfetsure  of  the'*good  will  of 


*  See  note  II,  at  the  end  of  the  Essays. 


24 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


To  give  moderate  liberty  for  griefs  and  discon 
tentments  to  evaporate  (so  it  be  without  too  great 
insolency  or  bravery)  is  a  safe  way  :  for  he  that 
turneth  the  humours  back,  and  maketh  the  wound 
bleed  inwards,  endangereth  malign  ulcers  and  per 
nicious  imposthumations. 

The  part  of  Epimetheus  might  well  become 
Prometheus,  in  the  case  of  discontentments,  for 
there  is  not  a  better  provision  against  them.  Epi- 
rnetheus,  when  griefs  and  evils  flew  abroad,  at 
last  shut  the  lid,  and  kept  hope  in  the  bottom  of 
the  vessel.  Certainly,  the  politic  and  artificial 
nourishing  and  entertaining  of  hopes,  and  carry 
ing  men  from  hopes  to  hopes,  is  one  of  the  best 
antidotes  against  the  poison  of  discontentments ; 
and  it  is  a  certain  sign  of  a  wise  government  and 
proceeding,  when  it  can  hold  men's  hearts  by 
hopes,  when  it  cannot  by  satisfaction  ;  and  when 
it  can  handle  things  in  such  manner  as  no  evil 
shall  appear  so  peremptory  but  that  it  hath  some 
outlet  of  hope  :  which  is  the  less  hard  to  do  :  be 
cause  both  particular  persons  and  factions  are  apt 
enough  to  flatter  themselves,  or  at  least  to  brave 
that,  they  believe  not. 

Also  the  foresight  and  prevention,  that  there  be 
no  likely  or  fit  head  whereunto  discontented  per 
sons  may  resort,  and  under  whom  they  may  join, 
is  a  known,  but  an  excellent  point  of  caution.  I 
understand  a  fit  head  to  be  one  that  hath  greatness 
and  reputation,  that  hath  confidence  with  the  dis 
contented  party,  and  upon  whom  they  turn  their 
eyes,  and  that  is  thought  discontented  in  his  own 
particular  :  which  kind  of  persons  are  either  to  be 
won  and  reconciled  to  the  state,  and  that  in  a  fast 
and  true  manner;  or  to  be  fronted  with  some  other  of 
the  same  party  that  may  oppose  them,  and  so  divide 
the  reputation.  Generally  the  dividing  and  break 
ing  of  all  factions  and  combinations  that  are  adverse 
to  the  state,  and  setting  them  at  distance,  .or,  at 
least,  distrust  among  themselves,  is  not  one  of  the 
worst  remedies  :  for  it  is  a  desperate  case,  if  those 
that  hold  with  the  proceeding  of  the  state  be  full 
of  discord  and  faction,  and  those  that  are  against 
it  be  entire  and  united. 

I  have  noted,  that  some  witty  and  sharp 
speeches,  which  have  fallen  from  princes,  have 
given  fire  to  seditions.  Caesar  did  himself  infi 
nite  hurt  in  that  speech,  "  Sylla  nescivit  literas, 
non  potuit  dictare  ;"  for  it  did  utterly  cut  off  that 
hope  which  men  had  entertained,  that  he  would_ 
jane  time  or  other  give  over  his  dictatorship.  Gal- 
ba  undid  himself  by  that  speech,  "  legi  a  se  mili- 
tem,  non  emi ;"  for  it  put  the  soldiers  out  of  hope 
'  of  the  donative.  Probus,  likewise,  by  that  speech, 
"  si  vixero  non  opus  erit  amplius  Romano  imperio 
militibus  ;"  a  speech  of  great  despair  for  the  sol 
diers,  and  many  the  like.  Surely  princes  had 
need  in  tender  matters  and  ticklish  times,  to  be 
ware  what  they  say,  especially  in  these  short 
speeches,  which  fly  abroad  like  darts,  .an,drare 
thought  to  be  shot  out  of  their  secret  intentions; 


for  as  for  large  discourses,  they  are  flat  things,  and 
not  so  much  noted. 

Lastly,  let  princes,  against  all  events,  not  be 
without  some  great  person,  one  or  rather  more,  of  /  / 
military  valour,  near  unto  them,  for  the  repressing  l> 
of  seditions  in  their  beginnings  ;  for  without  that, 
there  useth  to  be  more  trepidation  in  court  upon 
the  first  breaking  out  of  troubles,  than  were  fit ; 
and  the  state  runneth  the  danger  of  that  which  Ta 
citus  saith,  "  atque  is  habitus  animorum  fuit,  ut 
pessimum  facinus  auderent  pauci,  plures  vellent, 
omnes  paterentur:"  but  let  such  military  persons 
be  assured,  and  well  reputed  of,  rather  than  fac 
tious  and  popular;  holding  also  good  correspond 
ence  with  the  other  great  men  in  the  state,  or  else 
the  remedy  is  worse  than  the  disease. 

XVI.     OF   ATHEISM. 

I  HAD  rather  believe  all  the  fables  in  the  legend, 
and  the  Talmud,  and  the  Alcoran,  than  that  this 
universal  frame  is  without  a  mind;  and,  therefore, 
God  never  wrought  miracle  to  convince  atheism, 
because  his  ordinary  works  convince  it.     It  is  true, 
that  a  little  philosophy  inclineth  man's  mind  to 
atheism,  but  depth  in  philosophy  bringeth  men's 
minds  about  to  religion  ;*  for  while  the  mind  of  man 
looketh  upon  second  causes  scattered,  it  may  some 
times  rest  in  them,  and  go  no  further ;  but  when 
it  beholdcth  the  chain  of  them  confederate,  and 
linked  together,  it  must  needs  fly  to  providence 
and  Deity  :  nay,  even  that  school  which  is  most 
accused  of  atheism  doth  most  demonstrate  reli 
gion  ;  that  is  the  school  of  Leucippus,and  Derafa- 
critus,  and  Epicurus  :  for  it  is  a  thousand  times 
more  credible  that  four  mutable  elements,  and  one 
immutable  fifth  essence,  duly  and  eternally  placed, 
need  no  God,  than  that  an  army  of  infinite  small 
portions,  or  seeds  unplaced,  should  have  produced 
this  order  and  beauty  without  a  divine  marshal. 
The  Scripture  saith,  "The  fool  hath  said  in  his 
heart,  there  is  no  God  ;"  it  is  not  said,  "  The  fool 
hath  thought  in  his  heart ;"  so  as  he  rather  saith  it 
by  rote  to  himself,  as  that  he  would  have,  than 
that  he  can  thoroughly  believe  it,  or  be  persuaded 
of  it ;  for  none  deny  there  is  a  God,  but  those  for 
whom  it  maketh  that  there  were  no  God.     It  ap- 
peareth  in  nothing  more,  that  atheism  is  rather  in 
the  lip  than  in  the  heart  of  man,  than  by  this,  that 
atheists  will  ever  be  talking  of  that  their  opinion, 
as  if  they  fainted  in  it  within  themselves,  and 
would  be  glad  to  be  strengthened  by  the  consent 
of  others  :  nay  more,  you  shall  have  atheists  strive 
to  get  disciples,  as  it  fareth  with  other  sects ;  and, 
which  is  most  of  all,  you  shall  have  of  them  that 
will  suffer  for  atheism,  and  not  recant  ;  whereas, 
f  they  did  truly  think  that  there  were  no  such  thing 
as   God,  why  should  they  trouble  themselves? 
Epicurus  is  charged,  that  he  did  but  dissemble  for 
lis  credit's  sake,  when  he  affirmed  there  \ver« 
*  See  note  I,  at  the  end  of  the  Essavs. 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


25 


were  blessed  natures,  but  such  as  enjoyed  them 
selves  without  having  respect  to  the  government 
of  the  world  ;  wherein  they  say  he  did  temporize, 
though  in  secret  he  thought  there  was  no  God  : 
but  certainly  he  is  traduced,  for  his  words  are 
noble  and  divine  :  "  Non  Deos  vulgi  negare  pro- 
fanum  ;  sed  vulgi  opiniones  Diis  applicare  profa- 
num."  Plato  could  have  said  no  more  ;  and,  al 
though  he  had  the  confidence  to  deny  the  adminis 
tration  he  had  not  the  power  to  deny  the  nature. 
The  Indians  of  the  west  have  names  for  their  par 
ticular  gods  though  they  have  no  name  for  God  : 
as  if  the  heathens  should  have  had  the  names  Jupi 
ter,  Apollo,  Mars,  &c.  but  not  the  word  Deus, 
which  shows  that  even  those  barbarous  people 
have  the  notion,  though  they  have  not  the  latitude 
and  extent  of  it :  so  that  against  atheists  the  very 
savages  take  part  with  the  very  subtlest  philoso 
phers.  The  contemplative  atheist  is  rare,  a  Dia- 
goras,  a  Bion,  a  Lucian  perhaps,  and  some  others  ; 
and  yet  they  seem  to  be  more  than  they  are  ;  for 
that  all  that  impugn  a  received  religion,  or  super 
stition,  are,  by  the  adverse  part,  branded  with  the 
name  of  atheists ;  but  the  great  atheists  indeed 
are  hypocrites,  which  are  ever  handling  holy 
things,  but  without  feeling  ;  so  as  they  must  needs 
be  cauterized  in  the  end.  The  causes  of  athe 
ism  are,  divisions  in  religion,  if  they  be  many ; 
for  any  one  main  division  addeth  zeal  to  both  sides, 
but  many  divisions  introduce  atheism  :  another  is, 
scandal  of  priests,  wrhen  it  is  come  to  that  which 
St.  Bernard  saith,  "  non  est  jam  dicere,  ut  popu- 
lus,  sic  sacerdos  ;  quia  nee  sic  populus,  ut  sacer- 
dos ;"  a  third  is,  custom  of  profane  scoffing  in 
holy  matters,  which  doth  by  little  and  little  deface 
the  reverence  of  religion ;  and,  lastly,  learned 
times,  specially  with  peace  and  prosperity;  for 
troubles  and  adversities  do  more  bow  men's  minds 
to  religion.  They  th'at  deny  a  God  destroy  man's 
nobility  ;  for  certainly  man  is  of  kin  to  ,the  beast 
by  his  body  ;  and,  if  he  be  not  of  kin  to  G  od  by  his 
spirit,  he  is  a  base  and  ignoble  creature.  It  de 
stroys  likewise  magnanimity,  and  the  raising  of 
human  nature ;  for  take  an  example  of  a  dog, 
and  mark  what  a  generosity  and  courage  he  will 
put  on  when  he  finds  himself  maintained  by  a 
man,  who  to  him  is  instead  of  a  God,  or  "  melior 
natura;"  which  courage"  is  manifestly  such  as 
that  creature,  without  that  confidence  of  a  better 
nature  than  his  own,  could  never  attain.  So  man, 
when  he  resteth  and  assureth  himself  upon  divine 
protection  and  favour,  gathereth  a  force  and  faith, 
which  human  nature  in  itself  could  not  obtain ; 
therefore,  as  atheism  is  in  all  respects  hateful,  so 
in  this,  that  it  depriveth  human  nature  of  the 
means  to  exalt  itself  above  human  frailty.  As  it 
is  in  particular  persons,  so  it  is  in  nations ;  never 
was  there  such  a  state  for  magnanimity  as  Rome ; 
of  this  state  hear  what  Cicero  saith,  "  Quam.volu- 
mus,  licet,  Patres  conscripti,  nos  amemus,  tamen 
nee  numero  Hispanos,  nee  robore  Gallos,  nee  cal- 
VOL.  I.— 4 


liditate  Pcenos,  nee  artibus  Grascos,  nee  denique 
hoc  ipso  hujus,  gentis  et  terrae  domestico  nativoque 
sensu  Italos  ipsos  et  Latinos ;  sed  pietate,  ac 
religione,  atque  hac  una  sapientia,  quod  Deorum 
immortalium  numine  omnia  regi,  gubernarique 
perspeximus  omnes,  gentes  nationesque  supera- 
vimus." 

XVII.     OF  SUPERSTITION. 

IT  were  better  to  have  no  opinion  of  God  at  all 
than  such  an  opinion  as  is  unworthy  of  him ;  for 
the  one  is  unn"etTef,  the  other  is  contumely  ;  and 
certainly  superstition  is  the  reproach  of  the  Deity. 
Plutarch  saith  well  to  that  purpose :  "  Surely," 
saith  he,  "  I  had  rather  a  great  dealrnen  should 
say  there  was  no  such  man  at  all  as  Plutarch,  than 
that  they  should  say  that  there  was  one  Plutarch, 
that  would  eat  his  children  as  soon  as  they  were 
born  :"  as  the  poets  speak  of  Saturn  :  and,  as  the 
contumely  is  greater  towards  God,  so  the  danger 
is  greater  towards  men.  Atheism  leaves  a  man  to 
sense,  to  philosophy,  to  natural  piety,  to  laws,  to 
reputation  :  all  which  may  be  guides  to  an  outward 
moral  virtue,  though  religion  were  not ;  but  super 
stition  dismounts  all  these,  and  erecteth  an  absolute 
monarchy  in  the  minds  of  men  :  therefore  atheism 
did  never  perturb  states  ;  for  it  mates  men  wary 
of  themselves,  as  looking  no  further,  and  we  see 
the  times  inclined  to  atheism  (as  the  time  of  Au 
gustus  Csesar)  were  civil  times  :  but  superstition 
hath  been  the  confusion  of  many  states,  andbring- 
eth  in  a  new  "primum  mobile,"  that  ravisheth  all 
the  spheres  of  government.  r£he  master  of  super 
stition  is  the  people,jmd  in  all  superstition  wise 
men  follow  fools ;  and  arguments  are  fitted  to  prac 
tice,  in  a  reversed  order.  It  was  gravely  said,  by 
some  of  the  prelates  in  the  council  of  Trent,  where 
the  doctrine  of  the  schoolmen  bare  great  sway,  that 
the  schoolmen  were  like  astronomers,  which  did 
feign  eccentrics  and  epicycles,  and  such  engines  of 
orbs  to  save"  phenomena,  though  they  knew  there 
were  no  such  things ;  and,  in  like  manner,  that 
the  schoolmen  had  framed  a  number  of  subtle  and 
intricate  axioms  and  theorems,  to  save  the  practice 
of  the  church.  The  causes  of  superstition  are, 
pleasing  and  sensual  rites  and  ceremonies  ;  excess 
of  outward  and  pharisaical  holiness ;  over  great 
reverence  of  traditions,  which  cannot  but  load  the 
church  ;  the  stratagems  of  prelates  for  their  own 
ambition  and  lucre ;  the  favouring  too  much  of 
good  intentions,  which  openeth  the  gate  to  conceits 
and  novelties  ;  the  taking  an  aim  at  divine  matters 
by  human,  which  cannot  but  breed  mixture  of 
imaginations ;  and,  lastly,  barbarous  times,  es 
pecially  joined  with  calamities  and  disasters. 
Superstition,  without  a  veil,  is  a  deformed  thing ; 
for  as  it  addeth  deformity  to  an  ape  to  be  so  like 
a  man,  so  the  similitude  of  superstition  to  religion 
makes  it  the  more  deformed  :  and,  as  wholesome 
meat  corrupteth  to  little  worms,  so  good  forms  and 
C 


26 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


orders  corrupt  into  a  number  of  petty  observances. 
There  is  a  superstition  in  avoiding  superstition, 
when  men  think  to  do  best  if  they  go  furthest 
from  the  superstition  formerly  received  ;  there 
fore  care  would  be  had  that  (as  it  fareth  in  ill 
purgings)  the  good  be  not  taken  away  with  the 
bad,  which  commonly  is  done  when  the  people  is 
the  reformer. 

Vv/XVIII.     OF  TRAVEL. 

TRAVEL,  in  the  younger  sort,  is, a  jart  of  educa- 


tion ;  in  the  elder,  ajjart  of  experience.  He  that 
travelleth  into  a  country,  beToTelieliath  some  en 
trance  into  the  language,  goeth  to  school,  and  not 
to  travel.  That  young  men  travel  under  some 
tutor,  or  grave  servant,  I  allow  well ;  so  that  he  be 
such  a  one  that  hath  the  language,  and  hath  been 
in  the  country  before  ;  whereby  he  may  be  able  to 
tell  them  what  things  are  worthy  to  be  seen  in  the 
country  where  they  go,  what  acquaintances  they 
are  to  seek,  what  exercises  or  discipline  the  place 
yieldeth  ;  for  else  young  men  shall  go  hooded,  and 
look  abroad  little.  It  is  a  strange  thing  that,  in 
sea  voyages,  where  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen  but 
sky  and  sea,  men  should  make  diaries  ;  but  in  land 
travel,  wherein  so  much  is  to  be  observed,  for  the 
most  part  they  omit  it;  as  if  chance  were  fitter  to 
be  registered  than  observation  :  let  diaries,  there- 
fore,  b^Jjrought  in  use.  The  things  to  be  seen 
and  observed  are,  the  courts  ofjoxioges,  especially 
when  they  give  audience  to  ambassadors ;  the 
courts  of  justice,  while  they  sit  and  hear  causes  ; 
and  so  of  consistories  ecclesiastic ;  the  churches 
and  monasteries,  with  the  monuments  which  are 
therein  extant ;  the  walls  and  fortifications  of  cities 
and  towns  ;  and  so  the  havens  and  harbours,  anti 
quities  and  ruins,  libraries,  colleges,  disputations, 
and  lectures,  where  any  are  ;  shipping  and  navies  ; 
houses  and  gardens  of  state  and  pleasure,  near 
great  cities  ^armories,  arsenals,  magazines,  ex 
changes,  burses,  warehouses,  exercises  of  horse 
manship,  fencing,  training  of  soldiers,  and  the 
like  :  comedies,  such  whereunto  the  better  sort  of 
persons  do  resort ;  treasuries  of  jewels  and  robes; 
cabinets  and  rarities;  and,  to  conclude,  whatso- 
ever  is  memorable  in  the  places  where  they  go  : 
after  all  whicTnKe  lliluib  w  5c,i"»'aiil&  uuulil  to  make 
diligent  inquiry.  As  for  triumphs,  masks,  feasts, 
weddings,  funerals,  capital  executions,  and  such 
shows,  men  need  not  to  be  put  in  mind  of  them  : 
yet  are  they  not  to  be  neglected.  If  you  will  have 
a  young  man  to  put  his  travel  into  a  little  room,  and 
in  short  time  to  gather  much,  this  you  must  do;  first, 
as  was  said,  he  must  have  some  entranceJuatOL^he 
language  before  he  goeth ;  thelTTTe  must  have  such 
a  ser  vanTTor  tutor",  as  knoweth  the  country,  as  was 
likewise  said :  let  him  carry  with  him  also  gome 
)card  or  book,  describing  the  country  where  he 

/  travelleth,  which  will  be  a  good  key  to  his  inquiry ; 

v  let  him  keep  also  a  diary ;  let  him  not  stay  long  in 


one  city  or  town,  more  or  less  as  the  place  deserr- 
eth,  but  not  long;  nay,  when  lie  stayelh  in  one 
city  or  town,  let  him  change  hislod  gin  g  from  one 
end  and  part  of  the  town  to  another,  whichisa^reat 
adamant  of  acquaintance ;  let  him  semester  him 
self  from  the  company  of  his  countrymen,  and  diet 
in  such  places  where  there  is  good  company  of 
the  nation  where  he  travelleth  :  let  him,  upon  his 
removes  from  one  place  to  another,  procure  recom 
mendation  to  some  person  of  q  u  al  i  tyres  i  din  g  in 
the  place  whitherlie^rtJiiltA'yih1,  IhaFTie  may  use 
his  favour  in  those  things  he  desireth  to  see  or 
know  :  thus  he  may  abridge  his  travel  with  much 
profit.  As  for  the  acq uaintance  which  is.  to  be 
sought  in  travel,  that  which  is "the  most  of  all  pro- 
fitable,  is  acquaintance  with  the  secretaries  and 
employed  men  of  ambassadors  :  for  so  in  travelling 
in  one  country"  he  shaTT  suck  the  experience  of 
many  :  let  him  also  see  and  visit  eminent  persons 
in  all  kinds,  which  are  of  great  namelTbWU'd,  that 
he  may  be  able  to  tell  how  the  life  agreeth  with 
the  fame  ;  For  quarrels,  they  are  with  care  and  dis 
cretion  to  b  e  avoid  eel  7  they  are  commonly  for  mis 
tresses,  healths,  place,  and  words  ;  and  let  a  man 
beware  how  he  keepeth  company  with  choleric  and 
quarrelsome  persons,  for  they  will  engage  him  into 
their  own  quarrels.  When  a  traveller  returneth 
home,  let  him  not  leave  the  country  where  he  hath 
travelled  altogether  behind  him;  but  maintain  a 
correspondence  by  letters  with  those  of  his  ac 
quaintance  WlTlch  are  "most  worth ;  and  let  his 
travel  appear  rather  in  his  discourse  than  in  his 
apparel  or  gesture;  and  in  his  discourse  let  him  be 
rather  advised  in  his  answers,  than  forward  to  tell 
stories  :  and  let  it  appear  that  he  doth  not  change 
his  country  manners,  frr  tjmsn  nf  frr-^n  parts ;  but 
only  prick  in  some  flowers  of  that  he  hath  learned 
abroad  into  the  customs  of  his  own  country. 

XIX.    OF  EMPIRE. 

IT  is  a  miserable  state  of  mind  to  have  few 
things  to  desire,  and  many  things  to  fear;  and  yet 
that  commonly  is  the  case  of  kings,  who  being  at 
the  highest,  want  matter  of  desire,  which  makes 
their  minds  more  languishing  ;  and  have  many  re 
presentations  of  perils  and  shadows,  which  makes 
their  minds  the  less  clear  :  and  this  is  one  reason 
also  of  that  effect  which  the  Scripture  speaketh  of, 
"  That  the  king's  heart  is  inscrutable  :"  for  mul 
titude  of  jealousies,  and  lack  of  some  predominant 
desire,  that  should  marshal  and  put  in  order  all  the 
rest,  maketh  any  man's  heart  hard  to  find  or  sound. 
Hence  it  comes  likewise,  that  princes  many  times 
make  themselves  desires,  and  set  their  hearts  upon 
toys;  sometimes  upon  a  building;  sometimes 
upon  erecting  of  an  order  ;  sometimes  upon  the 
advancing  of  a  person  ;  sometimes  upon  obtain 
ing  excellence  in  some  art,  or  feat  of  the  hand ;  as 
Nero  for  playing  on  the  harp  ;  Domitian  for  cer 
tainty  of  the  hand  with  the  arrow ;  Commodus  for 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


27 


playing  at  fence ;  Caracalla  for  driving1  chariots, 
and  the  like.  This  seemeth  incredible  unto  those 
that  know  not  the  principle,  that  the  mind  of  man 
is  more  cheered  and  refreshed  by  profiting  in  small 
things  than  by  standing  at  a  stay  in  great.  We 
see  also  that  kings  that  have  been  fortunate  con 
querors  in  their  first  years,  it  being  not  possible 
for  them  to  go  forward  infinitely,  but  that  they 
must  have  some  check  or  arrest  in  their  fortunes, 
turn  in  their  latter  years  to  be  superstitious  and 
melancholy  ;  as  did  Alexander  the  Great,  Diocle- 
sian,  and  in  our  memory  Charles  the  Fifth,  and 
ethers:  for  he  that  is  used  to  go  forward,  and 
findeth  a  stop,  falleth  out  of  his  own  favour,  and 
is  not  the  thing  he  was. 

To  speak  now  of  the  true  temper  of  empire,  it 
is  a  thing  rare  and  hard  to  keep  ;  for  both  temper 
and  distemper  consists  of  contraries  :  but  it  is  one 
thing  to  mingle  contraries,  another  to  interchange 
them.  The  answer  of  Apollonius  to  Vespasian 
is  full  of  excellent  instruction.  Vespasian  asked 
him,  what  was  Nero's  overthrow  1  he  answered, 
Nero  could  touch  and  tune  the  harp  well,  but  in 
government  sometimes  he  used  to  wind  the  pins 
too  high,  sometimes  to  let  them  down  too  low ; 
and  certain  it  is* that  nothing  destroyeth  authority 
so  much  as  the  unequal  and  untimely  interchange 
of  power  pressed  too  far,  and  relaxed  too  much. 

This  is  true,  that  the  wisdom  of  all  these  latter 
times  in«princes'  affairs,  is  rather  fine  deliveries, 
and  shiitings  of  dangers  and  mischiefs,  when  they 
are  near,  than  solid  and  grounded  courses  to  keep 
them  aloof:  but  this  is  but  to  try  masteries  with 
fortune;  and  let  men  beware  how  they  neglect 
and  suffer  matter  of  trouble  to  be  prepared  ;  for  no 
man  can  forbid  the  spark,  nor  tell  whence  it  may 
come.  The  difficulties  in  princes'  business  are 
many  and  great ;  but  the  greatest  difficulty  is  often 
in  their  own  mind  ;  for  it  is  common  with  princes 
(saith  Tacitus)  to  will  contradictories ;  "  Sunt 
plerumque  regum  voluntates  vehementes,  et  inter 
se  contrariae;"  for  it  is  the  solecism  of  power  to 
think  to  command  the  end,  and  yet  not  to  endure 
the  mean. 

Kings  have  to  deal  with  their  neighbours,  their 
wives,  their  children,  their  prelates  or  clergy,  their 
nobles,  their  second  nobles  or  gentlemen,  their 
merchants,  their  commons,  and  their  men  of  war ; 
and  from  all  these  arise  dangers,  if  care  and  cir 
cumspection  be  not  used. 

First,  for  their  neighbours,  there  can  no  general 
rule  be  given,  (the  occasions  are  so  variable,)  save 
one  which  ever  holdeth ;  which  is,  that  princes 
do  keep  due  sentinel,  that  none  of  their  neigh 
bours  do  overgrow  so  (by  increase  of  territory,  by 
embracing  of  trade,  by  approaches,  or  the  like) 
as  they  become  more  able  to  annoy  them  than 
they  were;  and  this  is  generally  the  work  of 
gtanding  counsels  to  foresee  and  to  hinder  it. 
During  that  triumvirate  of  kings,  King  Henry  the 
Eighth  of  England,  Francis  the  First,  king  of 


France,  and  Charles  the  Fifth  emperor,  there  was 
such  a  watch  kept  that  none  of  the  three  could 
win  a  palm  of  ground,  but  the  other  two  would 
straightways  balance  it,  either  by  confederation, 
or,  if  need  were,  by  a  war ;  and  would  not  in  any 
wise  take  up  peace  at  interest:  and  the  like 
was  done  by  that  league  (which  Guicciardini 
saith  was  the  security  of  Italy)  made  between 
Ferdinando,  king  of  Naples,  Lorenzius  Medicis, 
and  Ludovicus  Sforsa,  potentates,  the  one  of  Flo 
rence,  the  other  of  Milan.  Neither  is  the  opinion 
of  some  of  the  schoolmen  to  be  received,  that  a 
war  cannot  justly  be  made,  but  upon  a  precedent 
injury  or  provocation;  for  there  is  no  question, 
but  a  just  fear  of  an  imminent  danger  though 
there  be  no  blow  given,  is  a  lawful  cause  of  a 
war. 

For  their  wives,  there  are  cruel  examples  of 
them.  Livia  is  infamed  for  the  poisoning  of  her 
husband  ;  Roxalana,  Solyman's  wife,  was  the  de 
struction  of  that  renowned  prince,  Sultan  Musta- 
pha,  and  otherwise  troubled  his  house  and  succes 
sion  ;  Edward  the  Second  of  England's  queen  had 
the  principal  hand  in  the  deposing  and  murder  of 
her  husband.  This  kind  of  danger  is  then  to  be 
feared  chiefly  when  the  wives  have  plots  for  the 
raising  of  their  own  children,  or  else  that  they  be 
advoutresses. 

For  their  children,  the  tragedies  likewise  of 
dangers  from  them  have  been  many;  and  gene 
rally  the  entering  of  fathers  into  suspicion  of 
their  children  hath  been  ever  unfortunate.  The 
destruction  of  Mustapha  (that  we  named  before) 
was  so  fatal  to  Solyman's  line,  as  the  succession 
of  the  Turks  from  Solyman  until  this  day  is  sus 
pected  to  be  untrue,  and  of  strange  blood ;  for 
that  Selymus  the  Second  was  thought  to  be  sup 
positions.  The  destruction  of  Crispus,  a  young 
prince  of  rare  towardness,  by  Constantinus  the 
Great,  his  father,  was  in  like  manner  fatal  to  his 
house,  for  both  Constantinus  and  Constance,  his 
son,  died  violent  deaths;  and  Constantius,  his 
other  son,  did  little  better,  who  died  indeed  of 
sickness,  but  after  that  Julianus  had  taken  arms 
against  him.  The  destruction  of  Demetrius,  son 
to  Philip  the  Second  of  Macedon,  turned  upon  the 
father,  who  died  of  repentance :  and  many  like 
examples  there  are,  but  few  or  none  where  the 
fathers  had  good  by  such  distrust,  except  it  were 
where  the  sons  were  up  in  open  arms  against 
them ;  as  was  Selymus  the  First  against  Bajazet, 
and  the  three  sons  of  Henry  the  Second  king  of 
England. 

For  their  prelates,  when  they  are  proud  and 
great,  there  is  also  danger  from  them;  as  it  was 
in  the  times  of  Anselmus  and  Thomas  Bucket, 
arr-hbishops  of  Canterbury,  who  with  their  crosiers 
did  almost  try  it  with  the  king's  sword  ;  and  yet 
they  had  to  deal  with  stout  and  haughty  kings, 
William  Rufus,,  Henry  the  First,  and  Henry  the 
Second.  The  danger  is  not  from  that  state-,  but 


28 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


where  it  hath  a  dependance  of  foreign  authority ; 
or  where  the  churchmen  come  in  and  are  elected, 
not  by  the  collation  of  the  king,  or  particular  pa 
trons,  but  by  the  people. 

For  their  nobles  tojkeeg  them  at  a  distancejt  is 
not  amiss ;  but'to  depress  them  may  make  a  king 
more  absolute,  but  less  safe,  and  less  able  to  per 
form  any  thing  that  he  desires.  I  have  noted  Jt 
in  my  History  of  King  Henry  the  Seventh  of  Eng 
land,  who  depressed  his  nobility,  whereupon  it 
came  to  pass  that  his  times  were  full  of  difficulties 
and  troubles ;  for  the  nobility,  though  they  con 
tinued  loyal  unto  him,  yet  did  they  not  co-operate 
with  him  in  his  business ;  so  that  in  effect  he  was 
fain  to  do  all  things  himself. 

For  their  second  nobles,  there  is  not  much  dan 
ger  from  them,  being  a  body  dispersed :  they  may 
sometimes  discourse  high,  but  that  doth  little 
hurt;  besides,  they  are  a  counterpoise  to  the 
higher  nobility,  that  they  grow  not  too  potent ; 
and,  lastly,  being  the  most  immediate  in  authority 
with  the  common  people,  they  do  best  temper 
popular  commotions. 

For  their  merchants,  they  are  "vena  porta;" 
and  if  they  nourish  not,  a  kingdom  may  have 
good  limbs,  but  will  have  empty  veins,  and  nou 
rish  little.  Taxes  and  imposts  upon  them  do  jsel- 
dom  good  to  the  king's  revenue,  for  that  which  he 
wins  in  the  hundred,  he  loseth  in  the  shire;  the 
particular  rates  being  increased,  but  the  total  bulk 
of  trading  rather  decreased. 

For  their  commons,  there  is  little  danger  from 
them,  except  it  be  where  they  have  great  and  po 
tent  heads;  or  where  you  meddle  with  the  point 
of  religion,  or  their  customs,  or  means  of  life. 

For  their  men  of  war,  it  is  a  dangerous  state 
where  they  live  and  remain  in  a  body,  and  are 
used  to  donatives,  whereof  we  see  examples  in 
janizaries  and  pretorian  bands  of  Rome;  but 
trainings  of  men,  and  arming  them  in  several 
places,  and  under  several  commanders,  and  with 
out  donatives,  are  things  of  defence  and  no 
danger. 

Princes  are  like  to  heavenly  bodies,  which 
cause  good  or  evil  times ;  and  which  have  much 
veneration,  but  no  rest.  All  precepts  concerning 
kings  are  in  effect  comprehended  in  those  two  re 
membrances,  "memento  quod  es  homo,"  and 
"memento  quod  es  Deus,  or  vice  Dei;"  the  one 
bridleth  their  power,  and  the  other  their  will. 

XX.     OF  COUNSEL. 

THE  greatest  trust  between  man  and  man  is  the 
trust  of  giving  counsel;  for  in  other  confidences 
men  commit  the  parts  of  life,  their  lands,  their 
goods,  their  children,  their  credit,  some  particular 
affair;  but  to  such  as  they  make  their  counsellors 
they  commit  the  whole :  by  how  much  the  more 
they  are  obliged  to  all  faith  and  integrity.  The 
wisest  princes  need  not  think  it  any  diminution  to 


their  greatness,  or  derogation  to  their  sufficiency, 
to  rely  upon  counsel.  God  himself  is  not  without, 
but  hath  made  it  one  of  the  great  names  of  his 
blessed  Son,  "The  Counsellor."  Solomon  hath 
pronounced  that,  "  incounsel  is  stability."  Things 
will  have  their  first  or  second  agitation :  if  they  be 
not  tossed  upon  the  arguments  of  counsel,  they 
will  be  tossed  upon  the  waves  of  fortune ;  and  be 
full  of  inconstancy,  doing  and  undoing,  like  the 
reeling  of  a  drunken  man.  Solomon's  son  found 
the  force  of  counsel,  as  his  father  saw  the  neces 
sity  of  it:  for  the  beloved  kingdom  of  God  was 
first  rent  and  broken  by  ill  counsel ;  upon  which 
counsel  there  are  set  for  our  instruction  the  two 
marks  whereby  bad  counsel  is  for  ever  best  dis 
cerned,  that  it  wras  young  counsel  for  the  per 
sons,  and  violent  counsel  for  the  matter. 

The  ancient  times  do  set  forth  in  figure  both 
the  incorporation  and  inseparable  conjunction  of 
counsel  with  kings,  and  the  wise  and  politic  use 
of  counsel  by  kings :  the  one,  in  that  they  say 
Jupiter  did  marry  Metis,  which  signifieth  counsel ; 
whereby  they  intend  that  sovereignty  is  married 
to  counsel ;  the  other  in  that  which  followeth, 
which  was  thus  :  they  say  after  Jupiter  was  mar 
ried  to  Metis,  she  conceived  by  him  and  was  with 
child,  but  Jupiter  suffered  her  not  to  stay  till  she 
brought  forth,  butjeat  her  up  ;  whereby  he  became 
himself  with  child,  and  was  delivered  of  Pallas 
Armed,  out  of  his  head.  Which  monstrous  fable 
containeth  a  secret  of  empire,  how  kings  are  to 
make  use  of  their  council  of  state  :  that  first,  they 
ought  to  refer  matters  unto  them,  which  is  the 
first  begetting  or  impregnation;  but  when  they 
are  elaborate,  moulded,  and  shaped  in  the  womb 
of  their  council,  and  grow  ripe  and  ready  to  be 
brought  forth,  that  then  they  suffer  not  their  coun 
cil  to  go  through  with  the  resolution  and  direction, 
as  if  it  depended  on  them ;  but  take  the  matter 
back  into  their  own  hands,  and  make  it  appear  to 
the  world,  that  the  decrees  and  final  directions 
(which,  because  they  come  forth  with  prudence 
and  power,  are  resembled  to  Pallas  Armed)  pro 
ceeded  from  themselves ;  and  not  only  from  their 
authority,  but  (the  more  to  add  reputation  to 
themselves)  from  their  head  and  device. 

Let  us  now  speak  of  the  inconveniences  of 
counsel,  and  of  the  remedies.  The  inconveni 
ences  that  have  been  noted  in  calling  and  using 
counsel,  are  three :  first,  the  revealing  of  affairs, 
whereby  they  become  less  secret ;  secondly,  the 
weakening  of  the  authority  of  princes,  as  if  they 
were  less  of  themselves ;  thirdly,  the  danger  of 
being  unfaithfully  counselled,  and  more  for  the 
good  of  them  that  counsel,  than  of  him  that  is 
counselled ;  for  which  inconveniences,  the  doc 
trine  of  Italy,  and  practice  of  France,  in  some 
kings'  times,  hath  introduced  cabinet  councils;  a 
remedy  worse  than  the  disease. 

As  to  secrecy,  princes  are  not  bound  to  commu 
nicate  all  matters  with  all  counsellors,  but  may 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


29 


extract  and  select;  neither  is  it  necessary,  that  he 
that  consulteth  what  he  should  do,  should  declare 
what  he  will  do  :  but  let  princes  beware  that  the 
unsecreting  of  their  affairs  comes  not  from  them 
selves  :  and,  as  for  cabinet  councils,  it  may  be 
their  motto,  "  plenus  rimarum  sum  :"  one  futile 
person,  that  maketh  it  his  glory  to  tell,  will  do 
more  hurt  than  many,  that  know  it  their  duty  to 
conceal.  It  is  true  there  be  some  affairs  which  re 
quire  extreme  secrecy,  which  will  hardly  go  be 
yond  one  or  two  persons  besides  the  king:  neither 
are  those  counsels  unprosperous  :  for,  besides  the 
secrecy,  they  commonly  go  on  constantly  in  one 
spirit  of  direction  without  distraction  :  but  then 
it  must  be  a  prudent  king,  such  as  is  able  to  grind 
with  a  hand-mill ;  and  those  inward  counsellors 
had  need  also  be  wise  men,  and  especially  true  and 
trusty  to  the  king's  ends  ;  as  it  was  with  King 
Henry  the  Seventh  of  England,  who  in  his  great 
est  business  imparted  himself  to  none,  except  it 
were  to  Morton  and  Fox. 

For  weakening  of  authority  the  fable  showeth  the 
remedy  :  nay  the  majesty  of  kings  is  rather  exalted 
than  diminished  when  they  are  in  the  chair  of  coun 
cil  :  neither  was  there  ever  prince  bereaved  of 
his  dependancies  by  his  council,  except  where 
there  hath  been  either  an  over  greatness  in  one 
counsellor,  or  an  over  strict  combination  in  di 
vers,  which  are  things  soon  found  and  holpen. 

For  the  last  inconvenience,  that  men  will  coun 
sel  with  an  eye  to  themselves  ;  certainly,  "  non  in- 
venietfidem  super  terram,"  is  meant  of  the  nature 
of  times,  and  not  of  all  particular  persons.  There 
bethat  are  in  nature  faithful  and  sincere,  and  plain 
and  direct,  not  crafty  and  involved :  let  princes, 
above  all,  draw  to  themselves  such  natures.  Be 
sides,  counsellors  are  not  commonly  so  united,  but 
that  one  counsellor  kecpeth  sentinel  over  another; 
so  that  if  any  do  counsel  out  of  faction  or  private 
ends,  it  commonly  comes  to  the  king's  ear:  but 
the  best  remedy  is,  if  princes  know  their  counsel 
lors,  as  well  as  their  counsellors  know  them  : 

"  Principis  est  virtus  maxima  nosse  suos." 
And  on  the  other  side,  counsellors  should  not  be 
too  speculative  into  their  sovereign's  person.  The 
true  composition  of  a  counsellor  is,  rather  to  be 
skilful  in  their  master's  business  than  in  his  na 
ture  ;  for  then  he  is  like  to  advise  him,  and  not  to 
feed  his  humour.  It  is  of  singular  use  to  princes 
if  they  take  the  opinions  of  their  council  both  sepa 
rately  and  together ;  for  private  opinion  is  more 
free,  but  opinionbefore  others  is  more  reverend. 
In  private,  men"  are  more  bold  in  their  own  hu 
mours,  and  in  consort,  men  are  more  obnoxious  to 
-  others'  humours,  therefore  it  is  good  to  take  both ; 
and  of  the  inferior  sort  rather  in  private,  to  preserve 
freedom  ;  of  the  greater,  rather  in  consort,  to  pre 
serve  respect.  It  is  in  vain  for  princes  to  take 
counsel  concerning  matters,  if  they  take  no  coun 
sel  likewise  concerning  persons ;  for  all  matters 
are  as  dead  images ;  and  the  life  of  the  execution  of 


affairs  resteth  in  the  good  choice  of  persons  :  nei 
ther  is  it  enough  to  consult  concerning  persons, 
"secundum  genera,"  as  in  an  idea  or  mathemati 
cal  description,  what  the  kind  and  character  of 
the  person  should  be ;  for  the  greatest  errors  are 
committed,  and  the  most  judgment  is  shown,  in 
the  choice  of  individuals.  It  was  truly  said, 
"  optimi  consiliarii  mortui  :"  "  books  will  speak 
plain  when  counsellors  blanch ;"  therefore  it  is 
good  to  be  conversant  in  them,  specially  the  books 
of  such  as  themselves  have  been  actors  upon  the 
stage. 

The  councils  at  this  day  in  most  places  are  but 
familiar  meetings,  where  matters  are  rather  talked 
on  than  debated  ;  and  they  run  too  swift  to  the  or 
der  or  act  of  council .  It  were  better  that  in  causes 
of  weight  the  matter  were  propounded  one  day 
and  not  spoken  to  till  the  next  day ;  "  in  nocte  con- 
silium  :"  so  was  it  done  in  the  commission  of  union 
between  England  and  Scotland,  which  was  a  grave 
and  orderly  assembly.  I  commend  set  days  for 
petitions  ;  for  both  it  gives  the  suitors  more  cer 
tainty  for  their  attendance,  and  it  frees  the  meet 
ings  for  matters  of  estate,  that  they  may  "  hoe 
agere."  In  choice  of  committees  for  ripening  busi 
ness  for  the  council ,  it  is  better  to  choose  indifferent 
persons,  than  to  make  an  indifferency  by  putting 
in  those  that  are  strong  on  both  sides.  I  commend, 
also,  standing  commissions  ;  as  for  trade,  for  trea 
sure,  for  war,  for  suits,  for  some  provinces ;  for 
where  there  be  divers  particular  councils,  and  but 
one  council  of  estate,  (as  it  is  in  Spain,)  they  are, 
in  effect,  no  more  than  standing  commissions,  save 
that  they  have  greater  authority.  Let  such  as  are 
to  inform  councils  out  of  their  particular  profes 
sions  (as  lawyers,  seamen,  mintmen,  and  the  like) 
be  first  heard  before  committees  ;  and  then,  as  oc 
casion  serves,  before  the  council ;  and  let  them 
not  come  in  multitudes,  or  in  a  tribunitius  manner  ; 
for  that  is  to  clamour  councils,  not  to  inform  them. 
A  long  table  and  a  square  table,  or  seats  about  the 
walls,  seem  things  of  form,  but  are  things  of  sub 
stance  ;  for  at  a  long  table  a  few  at  the  upper  end 
in  effect  sway  all  the  business;  but  in  the  other 
form  there  is  more  use  of  the  counsellors'  opinions 
that  sit  lower.  A  king  when  he  presides  in  coun 
cil  let,  him  beware  how  he  opens  his  own  inclination 
too  much  in  that  which  he  propound eth  ;  for  else 
counsellors  will  but  take  the  wind  of  him,  and, 
instead  of  giving  free  counsel,  will  sing  him  a 
song  of  "  placebo." 

XXI.     OF  DELAYS. 

FORTUNE  is  like  the  market,  where  many  &mes, 
if  you  can  stay  a  little,  the  prices  will  fall ;  and 
again,  it  is  sometimes  like  Sibylla's  offer,  which 
at  first  offereth  the  commodity  at  full,  then  con- 
sumeth  part  and  part,  and  still  holdethup  the  price ; 
for  occasion  (as  it  is  in  the  common  verse)  turneth 
a  bald  noddle  after  she  hath  presented  her  locks 
c2 


30 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


in  front,  and  no  hold  taken  ;  or,  at  least,  turneth 
the  handle  of  the  bottle  first  to  be  received,  and 
after  the  belly,  which  is  hard  to  clasp.  There  is 
surely  no  greater  wisdom  than  well  to  time  the  be 
ginnings  and  onsets  of  things.  Dangers  are  no 
more  light,  if  they  once  seem  light  ;  and  more  dan 
gers  have  deceived  men  than  forced  them  ;  nay,  it 
were  better  to  meet  some  dangers  half  way,  though 
they  corne  nothing  near,  than  to  keep  too  long  a 
watch  upon  their  approaches  ;  for  if  a  man  watch 
too  long  it  is  odds  he  will  fall  asleep.  On  the  other 
side,  to  be  deceived  with  too  long  shadows,  (as 
some  have  been  when  the  moon  was  low  and  shone 
on  their  enemies'  back,)  and  so  to  shoot  off  before 
the  time  ;  or  to  teach  dangers  to  come  on  by  over 
early  buckling  towards  them,  is  another  extreme. 
The  ripeness  or  unripeness  of  the  occasion  (as  we 
said)  must  ever  be  well  weighed  ;  and  generally  it 
is  good  to  commit  the  beginnings  of  all  great  actions 
to  Argos  with  his  hundred  eyes,  and  the  ends  to 
Briareus  with  his  hundred  hands  ;  first  to  watch, 
and  then  to  speed  ;  for  the  helmet  of  Pluto,  which 
maketli  the  politic  man  go  invisible,  is  secrecy 
in  the  council,  and  celerity  in  the  execution  ;  for 
when  things  are  once  come  to  the  execution,  there 
is  no  secrecy  comparable  to  celerity  ;  like  the  mo 
tion  of  a  bullet  in  the  air,  which  flieth  so  swift  as 
it  outruns  the  eye. 


.     OF  CUNNING.! 


WE  take  cunning  for  a  sinister,  or  crooked  wis 
dom  :  and  certainly  there  is  a  great  difference  be 
tween  a  cunning  man  and  a  wise  manrnot  only  in 
point  of  honesty,  but  in  point  of  ability.  There  be 
that  can  pack  the  cards,  arid  yet  cannot  play  well  ; 
so  there  are  some  that  are  good  in  canvasses  and 
factions,  that  are  otherwise  weak  men.  Again,  it 
is  one  tiling  to  understand  persons,  and  another 
thing  to  understand  matters  ;  for  many  are  per 
fect  in  men's  humours,  that  are  not  greatly  capa 
ble  of  the  real  part  of  business,  which  is  the  con 
stitution  of  one  that  hath  studied  men  more  than 
books.  Such  men  are  fitter  for  practice  than  for 
counsel,  and  they  are  good  but  in  their  own  alley  : 
turn  them  to  new  men,  and  they  have  lost  their 
aim  ;  so  as  the  old  rule,  to  know  a  fool  from  a  wise 
man,  "  Mitte  ambos  nudos  ad  ignotos,  et  videbis," 
doth  scarce  hold  for  them;  and,  because  these  cun 
ning  men  are  like  haberdashers  of  small  wares,  it 
is  not  amiss  to  set  forth  their  shop. 

It  is  a  point  of  cunning  to  wait  upon  him  with 
whom  you  speak  with  your  eye,  as  the  Jesuits 
give  it  in  precept  ;  for  there  be  many  wise  men 
that  have  secret  hearts  and  transparent  counte 
nances  ;  yet  this  would  be  done  with  a  demure 
abasing  of  your  eye  sometimes,  as  the  Jesuits 
also  do  use. 

Another  is,  that  when  you  have  any  thing  to  ob 
tain  of  present  despatch,  you  entertain  and  amuse 
the  party  with  whom  you  deal  with  some  other 


discourse,  that  he  be  not  too  much  awake  to  make 
objections.  I  knew  a  counsellor  and  secretary,  that 
never  came  to  Queen  Elizabeth  of  England  with 
bills  to  sign,  but  he  would  always  first  put  her 
into  some  discourse  of  estate,  that  she  might  the 
less  mind  the  bills. 

The  like  surprise  may  be  made  by  moving  things 
when  the  party  is  in  haste,  and  cannot  stay  to  con 
sider  advisedly  of  that  is  moved. 

If  a  man  would  cross  a  business  that  he  doubts 
some  other  would  handsomely  and  effectually 
move,  let  him  pretend  to  wish  it  well,  and  move  it 
himself,  in  such  sort  as  may  foil  it. 

The  breaking  off  in  the  midst  of  that,  one  was 
about  to  say,  as  if  he  took  himself  up,  breeds  a 
greater  appetite  in  him,  with  whom  you  confer,  to 
know  more. 

And  because  it  works  better  when  any  thing 
seemeth  to  be  gotten  from  you  by  c|uestio'n,  tlian 
if  you  offer  it  of  yourself,  you  may  lay  a  bait  for  a 
question,  by  showing  another  visage  and  counte 
nance  than  you  are  wont;  to  the  end,  to  give  occa 
sion  for  the  party  to  ask  what  the  matter  is  of  the 
change,  as  Nehemiah  did,  "  And  I  had  not  before 
that  time  been  sad  before  the  king." 

In  things  that  are_tendej  and  unpleasing,  it  is 
good  to  breakjjhe  ice  by  some  whose  words  are  of 
less~weight,  and^to  reserve  the  more  weighty  voice 
to  come  in  as  by  chance,  so  that  he  may  be  asked 
the  question  upon  the  other's  speech ;  as  Narcissus 
did,  in  relating  to  Claudius  the  marriage  of  Messa- 
lina  and  Silius. 

In  things  that  a  man  would  not  be  seen  in  him 
self,  it  is  a  point  of  cunning  to  borrow  the  name 
of  the  world ;  as  to  say,  "  The  world  says,"  or 
"There  is  a  speech  abroad." 

I  knew  one  that,  when  he  wrote  a  letter,  he 
would  put  that  which  was  most  material  in  the 
postscript  as  if  it  had  been  a  bye  matter. 

I  knew  another  that,  when  he  came  to  have 
speech,  he  would  pass  over  that  that  he  intend 
ed  most:  and  go  forth  and  come  back  again, 
and  speak  of  it  as  of  a  thing  that  he  had  almost 
forgot. 

Some  procure  themselves  to  be  surprised  at 
such  times  as  it  is  like  the  party  that  they  work 
upon,  will  suddenly  come  upon  them,  and  to  be 
found  with  a  letter  in  their  hand,  or  doing  some 
what  which  they  are  not  accustomed,  to  the  end 
they  may  be  opposed  of  those  things  which  of 
themselves  they  are  desirous  to  utter. 

It  is  a  point  of  cunning  to  let  fall  those  words  in 
a  man's  own  name  which  he  would  have  another  • 
man  learn  and  use,  and  thereupon  take  advantage. 
I  knew  two  that  were  competitors  for  the  secre 
tary's  place,  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time,  and  yet 
kept  good  quarter  between  themselves,  and  would 
confer  one  with  another  upon  the  business ;  and  the 
one  of  them  said,  that  to  be  a  secretary  in  the  de 
clination  of  a  monarchy  was  a  ticklish  thing,  and 
that  he  did  not  affect  it :  the  other  straight  caught . 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


up  thosa  words,  and  discoursed  with  divers  of  his 
friends,  that  he  had  no  reason  to  desire  to  be  se 
cretary  in  the  declination  of  a  monarchy.  The  first 
man  took  hold  of  it,  and  found  means  it  was  told 
the  queen,  whose  hearing  of  a  declination  of  mo 
narchy,  took  it  so  ill,  as  she  would  never  after  hear 
of  the  other's  suit. 

There  is  a  cunning,  which  we  in  England  call 
"  The  turning  of  the  cat  in  the  pan ;"  which  is, 
when  that  which  a  man  says  to  another,  he  lays  it 
as  if  another  had  said  it  to  him  ;  and  to  say  truth,  it 
is  not  easy  when  such  a  matter  passed  between  two,"  Tast 
to  make  it  appear  from  which  of  them  it  first 
moved  and  began. 

It  is  a  way  that  some  men  have  to  glance  and 
dart  at  others  by  justifying  themselves  by  ne 
gatives ;  as  to  say,  "This  I  do  not;"  as  Tigel- 
linus  did  towards  Burrhus,  "  Se  non  diversas 
spes,  sed  incolumitatem  imperatoris  simpliciter 
spectare." 

Some  have  in  readiness  so  many  tales  and  stories, 
as  there  is  nothing  they  would  insinuate,  but  they 
can  wrap  it  into  a  tale  ;  which  serveth  both  to 
keep  themselves  more  in  guard,  and  to  make  others 
carry  it  with  more  pleasure. 

It  is  a  good  point  of  cunning  for  a  man  to  shape 
the  answer  he  would  have  in  his  own  words  and 
propositions ;  for  it  makes  the  other  partjVstick 
the  less. 

"Mjt  is.  strange  how  long  some  men  will  lie  in 
wait  to  speak  somewhat  they  desire  to  say  ;  and 
how  far  about  they  will  fetch,  and  how  many 
other  matters  they  will'  beat  over  to -come  near 
it :  it  is  a' thing  t)f  great  patience,  but  yet  of  much 
use. 

A  sudden,  bfold,  and  unexpected  question  doth 
many  times  ^surprise  ^a  man,  and  lay  him  open. 
Like  to  him,  that,  having  changed  his  name,  and 
walking  in  Paul's,  another  suddenly  came  behind 
him  and  called  him  by  his  true  name,  whereat 
straightways  he  looked  back. 

But  these  srn.all  wares  and  petty  points  of 
cunning  are  infinite,  and  it  were  a  good  deed 
to  make  a  list  of  them ;  for  that  nothing  doth 
more  hurt  in  a  state  than  that  cunning  men  pass 
for  wise. 

But  certainly  some  there  are  that  know  the  re 
sorts  and  falls  of  business,  that  cannot  sink  into 
the  main  of  it ;  like  a  house  that  hath  convenient 
stairs  and  entries,  but  never  a  fair  room  :  therefore 
you  shall  see  them  find  out  pretty  looses  in  the 
conclusion,  but  are  no  ways  able  to  examine  or  de 
bate  matters  :  and  yet  commonly  they  take  advan 
tage  of  their  inability,  and  would  be  thought  wits 
of  direction.  Some  build  rather  upon  the  abusing 
of  others,  and  (as  we  now  say)  putting  tricks 
upon  them,  then  upon  soundness  of  their  own 
proceedings  :  but  Solomon  saith,  "  Prudens  ad- 
vertit  ad  gressus  suos  :  stultus  divertit  ad 
dolos." 


^XXIII.     OF  WISDOM  FOR  A  MAN'S 
SELF. 

AN  ant  is  a  wise  creature  for  itself,  but  it  is  a 
shrewd  thing  in  an  orchard  or  garden ;"  and  cer 
tainly  men  that  are  great  lovers  of_ themselves 
waste  the_pu{j]ic?  Divide  with  reason  between 
^elf-love  and  society  ;  and  be  so  trueto  thyself,  as 
thoTi  be  not  false  to  others,  especially  to  thy  king 
and  country.  It  iis  a  poor  centre  of  a  majils  actions, 
himself.  It  is  right  earth ;  for  that  only  stands 
upon  his  own  centre  ;  whereas  all  things  that 
have  affinity  with  the  heavens,  move  upon  the  cen 
tre  of  another,  which  they  benefit^/  Tha-referring_ 
of  all  to  a  man's  self, js  more  tolerable  in  a  sove- 


reign  inJnceTBecause  themselves  are  not  only  them-^  j 
selves,  but  their  good  and  evil  is  at  the  peril  of  the  / 
public  fortune  :  but  it  is  a  desperate  evil  in  a  ser- 
vant  to  £f  prince,  or  a  citizen  in  a  republic";  for 
whatsoever  affairs  pass  such  _a  man's  hands,  he 
crooketh  them  to  his  ownencls*  which  must  needs 
be  often  eccentric,  to  trie  ends  of  his  master  or 
state  :  therefore  let  princes,  or  states,  choose  such 
servants  as  have  not  this  mark  ;  except  they  mean 
their  service  should  be  made  but  the  accessary. 
That  which  maketh  the  effect  more  pernicious  is, 
that  all  proportion  is  lost;  it  were  disproportion 
enough  for  the  servant's  good 'to  be  preferred  be 
fore  the  master's  :  but  yet  it  is  a  greater  extreme, 
when  a  little  goo  crof  the  servant  shall  carry  things 
against  the  great  good  of  the  master's ;  and  yet 
that  is  the  case  of  bad  officers,  treasurers,  am 
bassadors,  generals,  and  other  false  and  corrupt 
servants ;  which  set  a  bias  upon  their  bowl,  of 
their  own  petty  ends  and  envies,  to  the  overthrow 
of  their  master's  great  and  important  affairs:  and, 
for  the  most  part,  the  good  such  servants  receive 
is  after  the  model  of  their  own  fortune  ;  but  the 
hurt  they  sell  for  that  good  is  after  the  model  of 
their  master's  fortune  :  and  certainly  it  is  the  na 
ture  of  extreme  self-lovers,  as  they  will  set  an 
house  on  fire,  and  it  were  but  to  roast  their  eggs  ; 
and  yet  these  men  many  times  hold  credit  with 
their  masters,  because  their  study  is  but  to  please 
them,  and  profit  themselves  ;  and  for  either  re 
spect  they  will  abandon  the  good  of  their  affairs. 

Wisdom  for  a  man's  self  is,  in  many  branches 
thereof,  a  depraved  thing  :  it  is  the  wisdom  of  rats, 
that  will  be  sure  to  leave  a  house  somewhat  be 
fore  it  fall :  it  is  the  wisdom  of  the  fox,  that  thrusts 
out  the  badger  who  digged  and  made  room  for 
him  :  it  is  the  wisdom  p.f  crocodiles,  that  shed 
tears  when  they  would  devour.  But  that  which 
is  specially  to  be  noted  is,  that  those  which  (as 
Cicero  says  of  Pompey)  are,  "  sui  amnntes,  sine 
rivali,"  are  many  times  unfortunate  ;  and  whereas 
they  have  all  their  times  sacrificed  to  themselves, 
they  become  in  the  end  themselves  sacrifices  to 
the  inconstancy  of  fortune,  whose  wings  the} 
thought  by  their  self-wisdom  to  have  pinioned 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


XXIV.    OF  INNOVATIONS. 

As  the  births  of  living  creatures  at  first  are  ill- 
shapen,  so  are  all  innovations,  which  are  the 
births  of  time ;  yet  notwithstanding,  as  those  that 
first  bring  honour  into  their  family  are  commonly 
more  worthy  than  most  that  succeed,  so  the  first 
precedent  (if  it  he  good)  is  seldom  attained  by 
imitation ;  for  ill  to  man's  nature  as  it  stands  per 
verted,  hath  a  natural  motion  strongest  in  con 
tinuance  ;  but  good,  as  a  forced  motion,  strongest 
at  first.  Surely  every  medicine  is  an  innovation, 
and  he  that  will  not  apply  new  remedies  must  ex 
pect  new  evils ;  for  time  is  the  greatest  innovator; 
and  if  time  of  course  alter  all  things  to  the  worse, 
and  wisdom  and  c'ourr5£t~s'hall  not  alter  them  to 
the  better,  what  shall  be  the  end  1  It  is  tTcre7  that 
what  is  settled  by  custom,  though  it  be  not  good, 
yet  at  least  it  is  fit ;  and  those  things  which  have 
long  gone  together,  are,  as  it  were,  fpnfederate 
within  themselves ;  whereas  new  things  piece  not 
so  well;  but,  though  they  help  by  their  utility, 
yet  they  trouble  by  their  inconformity :  besides, 
they  are  like  strangers,  more  admired,  and  less 
favoured.  All  this  is  true,  if  time  stood  still ; 
which,  contrariwise,  moveth  so  round,  that  a 
froward  retention  of  custom  is  as  turbulent  a 
thing  as  an  innovation  ;  and  they  that  reverence 
too  much  old  ttones,  are  but  a  scorn  to  the  new. 
It  were  good,  therefore,  that  metl  in  their  innova 
tions,  would  follow  the  example  of  time  itself, 
which  indeed  innovateth  greatly,  but  quietly,  and 
by  degrees  scarce  to  be  perceived ;  for  otherwise, 
whatsoever  is  new  is  unlocked  for ;  and  ever  it 
mends  some,  and  pairs  other ;  and  he  that  is  hoi- 
pen  takes  it  for  a  fortune,  and  thanks  the  time ; 
and  he  that  is  hurt  for — a  wrong,  and  imputeth  it 
to  the  -author.  It  is  good  also  not  to  try  experi 
ments  in  states?  except  the  necessity  be  urgent, 
or  the  utility  evident;  and  well  to  beware  that  it 
l)e  the  reformation  that  draweth  on  the  change, 
and  not  the  desire  of  change  that  pretendeth  the 
reformation ;  and  lastly,  that  the  novelty,  though 
it  be  not  rejected,  yet  be  held  for  a  suspect;  and, 
as  the  Scripture  saith,  »  That  we  make  a  stand 
upon  the  ancient  way,  and  then  look  about  us, 
and  discover  what  is  the  straight  and  right  way, 
and  sa  to  walk  in  it." 

XXV.     OF  DESPATCH. 

AFFECTED  despatch  is  one  of  the  most  dan 
gerous  things  to  business  that  can  be  :  It  is  like 
that  which  the  physicians  call£  predigestion,  or 
hasty  digestion  ;  which  is  sure  to  fill  the  body 
full  of  crudities,  and  secret  seeds  of  diseases : 
therefore  measure  not  despatch  by  the  times  of 
sitting,  but  by  the  advancement  of  the  business: 
and  as,  in  races,  it  is  not  the  large  stride,  or  high 
lift,  that  makes  the  speed ;  so,  in  business,  the 
keeping  close  to  the  matter,  and  not  taking  of  it 


too  much  at  once,  procureth  despatch.  It  is  the 
care  of  some  only  to  come  off  speedily  f  :>r  the 
time,  or  to  contrive  some  false  periods  of  busi- 
ness^because  they  may  seem  men  of  despatch : 
but  it  is  one  thing  to  abbreviate  by  contracting, 
another  by  cutting  off;  and  business  so  handled 
at  several  sittings,  or  meetings,  goeth  commonly 
backward  and  forward  in  an  unsteady  manner.  I 
knew  a  wise  man,  that  had  it  for  a  by-word,  when 
he  saw  men  hasten  to  a  conclusion,  "  Stay  a  little, 
that  we  may  make  an  end  the  sooner." 

On  the  other  side,  true  despatch  is  a  rich  thing; 
for  time  is  the  measure  of  business,  as  money  is 
of  wares  ;  and  business  is  bought  at  a  dear  hand 
where  there  is  small  despatch.  The  Spartans 
and  Spaniards  have  been  noted  to  be  of  small 
despatch  :  "  Mi  venga  la  muerte  de  Spagna ;" — 
"  Let  my  death  come  from  Spaii 
will  be  sure  to  be  long  in  coming. 

Give  good  hearing  to  those  that  give  the  first 
information  in  business,  and  rather  direct  them  in 
the  beginning,  than  interrupt  them  in  the  con 
tinuance  of  their  speeches ;  for  he  that  is  put  out 
of  his  own  order  will  go  forward  and  backward, 
and  be  more  tedious  while  he  waits  upon  his  me 
mory,  than  he  could  have  been  if  he  had  gone  on 
in  his  own  course  ;  but  sometimes  it  is  seen  that 
the  moderator  is  more  troublesome  than  the  actor. 

Iterations  are  commonly  loss_of  time ;'  but  there 
is  no  such  gain  of  time  as  to  iterate  often  the 
state  of  the  question ;  for  it  chaseth  away  muny 
a  frivolous  speech  as  it  is  coming  forth.  Long 
and  curious  speeches  are  as  fit  for  despatch,  as  a 
robe,  or  mantle,  with  a  long  train,  is  for  a  race. 
Prefaces,  and  passages,  and  excusations,  and 
other  speeches  of  reference  to  the  person,  are 
great  wastes  of  time ;  and  though  they  seem  to 
proceed  of  modesty,  they  are  bravery.  Yet  be 
ware  of  being  too  material  when  there  is  any  im 
pediment,  or  obstruction  in  men's  wills  ;  for  pre 
occupation  of  mind  ever  requireth  preface  of 
speech,  like  a  fomentation  to  make  the  unguent 
enter. 

Above  all  things,  order,  and  distribution,  and 
singling  out  of  parts,  is  the  life  of  despatch  ;  so 
as  the  distribution  be  not  too  subtile :  for  he  that 
doth  not  divide  will  never  enter  well  into  busi 
ness  ;  and  he  that  divideth  too  much  will  never 
come  out  of  it  clearly.  To  choose  time  is  to  save 
time ;  and  an  unseasonable  motion  is  but  beating 
the  air.  There  be  three  parts  of  business,  the 
preparation;  the  debate,  or  examination;  and  the 
perfection;  whereof,  if  you  look  for  despatch, 
let  the  middle  only  be  the  work  of  many,  and  the 
first  and  last  the  work  of  few.  The  proceeding 
upon  somewhat  r-onceived  in  writing  doth' for  the 
most  part  facilitate  despatch :  for  though  it  should 
be  wholly  rejected,  yet  that  negative  is  more  preg 
nant  of  direction  than  an  indefinite,  as  ashes  are 
more  generative  than  dust. 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


33 


XXVI.    OF  SEEMING  WISE. 

IT  hath  been  an  opinion,  that  the  French  are 
wiser  than  they  seem,  and  the  Spaniards  seem 
wiser  than  they  are ;  but  howsoever  it  be  between 
nations,  certainly  it  is  so  between  man  and  man ; 
for  as  the  apostle  saith  of  godliness?  "  Having 
show  of  godliness,  but  denying  the  power  there 
of;"  so  certainly  there  are  ^n  points  of  wisdom 
and  sufficiency,  that  do  nothing  or  little  very  so 
lemnly:  "magno  conatu  nugas."  It  is  a  ridi 
culous  thing,  and  fit  for  a  sa^^g  to  persons  of 
judgment,  to  see  what  sfiifts  tnese  formalists 
have,  and  what  prospectives  to  make  superfices  tp 
seem  body  that  hath  depth  and  bulk.  Some  are* 
so  close  and  reserved,  as  they  will  not  show  their 
wares  but  by  a  dark  light,  and  seem  always  to 
keep  back  somewhat;  and  when  they  know 
within  themselves  they  speak  of  thatjhey  do  not 
well  know,  would  nevertheless  seem  to  others  to 
know  of  that  which  they  may  not  well  speak. 
Some  help  themselves  with  countenance  and  ges 
ture,  and  are  wise  by  signs ;  as  Cicero  saith  of 
Piso,  that  when  he  answered  him  he  fetched  one 
of  his  brows  up  to  'his  forehead,  and  bent  the 
other  down  to  his  chin;  "respondes,  altero  ad 
frontem  sublato,  altero  ad  mentum  depresso  su- 
percilio,  crudelitatem  tibi  non  placere."  Some 
think  to  bear  it  by  speaking  a  jn£atword,and 

Wt-iS-<  vs«    o  Y*    -f\  n  w    -°|c'<o    /<*Hfir»-vWV  d«*-J*-"p     > 

being  peremptory ;  and  go  on,  and  take  by  ad 
mittance  that  which  they  cannot  make  good. 
Some,  whatsoever  is  beyond  their  reach^Yjillj  sepm 
to  despise,  or  make  light  of  it  as  impertinent  or 
curious  :  and  so  would  have  their  ignorance ^segrn^. 
judgment.  Some  are  never  without  a  differenceV 
and  commonly  by  amusing  men  with  a  subtilty, 
blanch  the  matter ;  of  whom  A.  Gellius  saith, 
"  hominem  delirum,  qui  verborum,  minutiis  rerum 
frangit  pondera."  Of  which  kind  also  Plato,  in 
his  Protagoras,  bringeth  in  Prodicus  in  scorn,  and 
maketh  him  make  a  speech  that  consisteth  of  dis 
tinctions  from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  Gene 
rally  such  men,  in  all  deliberations,  find  ease  to 
be  of  the  negative  side,  and  affect  a  credit  to  ob 
ject  and  foretell  difficulties  ;  for  when  propositions 
are  denied,  there  is  an  end  of  them;  but  if  they 
be  allowed,  it  require th  a  new  work  ;  which  false 
point  of  wisdom  is  the  bane  of  business.  To 
conclude,  there  is  no  decaying  merchant,  or  in 
ward  beggar,  hath  so  many  tricks  to  uphold  the 
credit  of  their  wealth,  as  these  empty  persons 
have  to  maintain  the  credit  o-ftbj^ir  sufficiency. 
Seeming  wise  men  may  make  shiftto  get  opinion; 
but  let  no  man  choose  them  for  employment ;  for 
certainly,  you  were  better  take  for  business  a  man 
somewhat  absurd  than  over-formal. 

"XXVII.     OF  FRIENDSHIP. 

IT  had  been  hard  for  him  that  spake  it  to  have 
put  more  truth  and  untruth  together  in  few  words 
than  in  that  sneech.  "  Wbosnpvp.r  is  rlo.licrht.fid  in 


solitude,  is  either  a  wild  beast  or  a  god :"  for  it  is 
most  true,  that  a  natural  and  secret  hatred  and 
aversation  towards  society,  in  any  man,  hath 
somewhat  of  the  savage  beast ;  but  it  is  most  un- 
true,  that  it  should  have  any  character  at  all  of 
the  divine  nature,  except  it  proceed,  not  out  of  a 
pleasure  in  solitude,  but  out  of  a  love  and  desire 
to  sequester  a  man's  self  for  a  higher  conversa 
tion  :  such  as  is  found  to  have  been  falsely  and 
feignedly  in  some  of  the  heathen ;  as  Epimenides, 
the  Candian ;  Numa,  the  Roman  ;  Empedocles, 
the  Sicilian;  and  Apollonius  of  Tyana;  and 
truly  and  really  in  divers  of  the  ancient  hermits 
and  holy  fathers  of. the  church.  But  little  do  ( 
men  perceive  what  solitude  is,  and  how  far  it  ex- 
tendeth ;  for  a  crowd  is  not  company,  and  faces 
are  but  a  gallery  of  pictures,  and  talk  but  a  tink-' 
ling  cymbal  where  there  is  no  love.  The  Latin 
adage  meeteth  with  it  a  little:  "magna  civitas, 
magna  solitudo ;"  because  in  a  great  town  friends 
are  scattered,  so  that  there  is  not  that  fellowship, 
for  the  most  part,  which  is  in  less  neighbour 
hoods  :  but  we  may  go  farther,  and  affirm  most 
truly,  that  it  is  a  mere  and  miserable  solitude  to 
want  true  friends,  without  which  the  world  is  but 
a  wilderness  ;  and  even  in  this  sense  also  of  soli 
tude,  whosoever  in  the  frame  of  his  nature  and 
affections  is  unfit  for  friendship,  he  taketh  it  of 
the  beast,  and  not  from  humanity. 

A  principal  fruit  of  friendship  is  the  ease  and 
discharge  of  the  fulness  and  swellings  of  the 
heart,  which  passions  of  all  kinds  do  cause  and 
induce.  We  know  diseases  of  stoppings  and 
suffocations  are  the  most  dangerous  in  the  body ; 
and  it  is  not  much  otherwise  in  the  mind ;  you 
may  take  sarza  to  open  the  liver,  steel  to  open  the 
spleen,  flower  of  sulphur  for  the  lungs,  castareum 
or  the  brain ;  but  no  receipt  openeth  the  heart  but 
a  true  friend,  to  whom  you  may  impart  griefs, 
joys,  fears,  hopes,  suspicions,  counsels,  and  what 
soever  lieth  upon  the  heart  to  oppress  it,  in  a  kind 
of  civil  shrift  or  confession. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  to  observe  how  high  a  rate 
great  kings  and  monarchs  do  set  upon  this  fruit 
of  friendship  whereof  we  speak:  so  great,  as 
;hey  purchase  it  many  times  at  the  hazard  of  their 
)wn  safety  and  greatness  :  for  princes,  in  regard 
>f  the  distance  of  their  fortune  from  that  of  their 
subjects  and  servants,  cannot  gather  this  fruit, 
except  (to  make  themselves  capable  thereof)  they 
•aise  some  persons  to  be  as  it  were  companions, 
ind  almost  equals  to  themselves,  which  many 
imes  sorteth  to  inconvenience.  The  modern 
anguages  giveTunto  such  persons  the  name  of 
avourites,  or  privadoes,  as  if  it  were  matter  of 
grace,  or  conversation;  but  the  Roman  name 
ittaineth  the  true  use  and  cause  thereof,  naming 
hem  "  participes  curarum ;"  for  it  is  that  which 
ieth  the  knot:  and  we  see  plainly  that  this  hath 
)een  done,  not  by  weak  and  passionate  princes 

v,  but,  bv  the  wisest  and  most  politic  that  ever 


34 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


reigned,  who  have  oftentimes  joined  to  them 
selves  some  of  their  servants,  whom  both  them 
selves  have  called  friends,  and  allowed  others 
likewise  to  call  them  in  the  same  manner,  using 
the  word  which  is  received  between  private  men. 

L.  Sylla,  when  he  commanded  Rome,  raised 
Pompey  (after  surnamed  the  Great)  to  that  height, 
that  Pompey  vaunted  himself  for  Sylla's  over 
match  ;  for  when  he  had  carried  the  consulship 
for  a  friend  of  his,  against  "the  pursuit  of  Sylla, 
and  that  Sylla  did  a  little  resent  thereat,  and  be 
gan  to  speak  great,  Pompey  turned  upon  him 
again,  and  in  effect  bade  him  be  quiet ;  for  that 
more  men  adored  the  sun  rising  than  the  sun  set 
ting.  With  Julius  Caesar,  Decimus  Brutus  had 
obtained  that  interest,  as  he  set  him  down  in  his 
testament  for  heir  in  remainder  after  his  nephew ; 
and  this  was  the  man  that  had  power  with  him  to 
draw  him  forth  to  his  death:  for  when  Csesar 
would  have  discharged  the  senate,  in  regard  of 
some  ill  presages,  and  specially  a  dream  of  Cal- 
purnia,  this  man  lifted  him  gently  by  the  arm  out 
of  his  chair,  telling  him  he  hoped  he  would  not 
dismiss  the  senate  till  his  wife  had  dreamed  a 
better  dream ;  and  it  seemeth  his  favour  was  so 
great,  as  Antonius,  in  a  letter  which  is  recited 
verbatim  in  one  of  Cicero's  Philippics,  calleth 
him  "  venefica," — "  witch  ;"  as  .if  he  had  enchant 
ed  Caesar.  Augustus  raised  Agrippa  (though  of 
mean  birth)  to  that  height,  as,  wheii  he  consulted 
with  "Maecenas  about  the  marriage  of  Ids  daughter 
Julia,- Maecenas  took  the  libejty  to  fell  him,  that 
he  must  either  marry  his  daughter  to  Agrippa,  or 
take  away  his  life  :  there-jwas  no  third  way,  he 
had  made  him 'so  great.  With  Tiberius  Caesar, 
Sejanus  had  ascended  to  that  height  as  they  two 
were  termed  an-d  reckoned  as  a  pair  of  friends. 
Tiberius,  in  a  letter  to  him,  saith,  "  hajc  pro 
amicitia  nostra  non  occultavi;"  and  the  whole 
senate  dedicated  an  altar  to  Friendship,  as  to  a 
goddess,  in  respect  of  the  grea/dearness  of  friend 
ship  between  them  two.  The  like,  or  more,  was 
between  Septimius  Severus  and  Plantianus ;  for 
he  forced  his  eldest  son  to  marry  the  daughter  of 
Plantianus,  and  would  often  maintain  Plantianus 
in  doing  affronts  to  his  son:  and  did  write  also, 
in  a  letter  to  the  senate,  by  these  words  :  "  I  love 
the  man  so  well,  as  I  wish  he  may  over-live  me." 
Now,  if  these  princes  had  been  as  a  Trajan,  or  a 
Marcus  Aurelius,  a  man  might  have  thought  that 
this  had  proceeded  of  an  abundant  goodness  of 
nature;  but  being  men  so  wise,  of  such  strength 
aud  severity  of  mind,  and  so  extreme  lovers  of 
themselves,  as  all  these  were,  it  provrth  most 
plainly,  that  they  found  their  own  felicity  (though 
as  great  as  ever  happened  to  mortal  men)  but  as 
an  half  piece,  except  they  might  have  a  friend  to 
make  it  entire;  and  yet,  which  is  more,  they  were 
princes  that  had  wives,  sons,  nephews  ;  and  yet  all 
these  could  not  supply  the  comfort  of  friendship. 

It  is  not  to  be  forgotten  what  Comineus  obser- 


veth  of  his  first  master,  Duke  Charles  the  Hardy, 
namely,  that  he  would  communicate  his  secrets 
with  none ;  and  least  of  all,  those  secrets  which 
troubled  him  most.  Whereupon  he  goeth  on,  and 
saith  that  towards  his  latter  time  that  closeness 
did  impair  and  a  little  perish  his  understanding. 
Surely  Comineus  might  have  made  the  same 
judgment  also,  if  it  had  pleased  him,  of  his  second 
master,  Lewis  the  Eleventh,  whose  closeness  was 
indeed  his  tormentor.  The  parable  of  Pythagoras 
is  dark  but  true,  "Cor  ne  edito," — "eat  not  the 
heart."  Certainly,  if  a  man  would  give  it  a  hard 
phrase,  those  that  want  friends  to  open  themselves 
unto  are  cannibals  of  their  own  hearts :  but  one 
thing  is  most  admirable,  (wherewith  I  will  con 
clude  thiSjJirst^fruit  of  friendship,)  which  is,  that 

thj_sjrOmrrro*nTcating  °^  a  man's  se^  to  n^s  friend 
works  two  contrary  effects,  for  it  redoubleth  joys, 
and  cutteth  griefs  in  halfs ;  for  there  is  no  man  that 
imparteth  his  joys  to  his  friend,  but  he  joyeth  the 
more :  and  no  man  that  imparteth  his  griefs  to  his 
friend,  but  he  grieveth  the  less.  So  that  it  is,  in 
truth,  of  operation  upon  a  man's  rnind  of  like  vir 
tue  as  Ihe  alchymists  use  to  attribute  to  their 
stone  for  man's  body,  that  it  worketh  all  contrary 
effects,  but  still  to  the  good  and  benefit  of  nature : 
but  yet,  without  praying  in  aid  of  alchymists, 
there  is  a  manifest  image  of  this  in  the  ordinary 
^course  of  nature ;  for,  in  bodies,  union  strength- 
eneth  and  cherisheth  any  natural  action;  and,  on 
the  other  side,  weakeneth  and  dulleth  any  violent 
impression;  and  even  so  it  is  of  minds. 

The  second  fruit  of  friendship  is_Jiealthful  and 
sovereign  for  the  understanding,  as  the  first  is  for 
the  affections ;  for  friendship  maketh  indeed  a  fail 
day  in  the  affections  from  storm  and  tempests,  but 
it  maketh  daylight  in  the  understanding,  out  of 
darkness  and  confusion  of  thoughts  :  neither  is  this 
to  be  understood  only  of  faithful  counsel,  which  a 
man  receiveth  from  his  friend ;  but  before  _yj)u 
come  to  that,  certain  it  is,  that  whosoever  hath 
his  mind  fraught  with  many  thoughts,  his  wits 
and  understanding  do  clarify  and  break  up,  in  the 
communicating  and  discoursing  with  another;  he 
tosseth  his  thoughts  more  easily ;  he  marshalleth 
them  more  orderly;  he  seeth  how  they  look  when 
they  are  turned  into  words:  finally,  he  waxeth 
wiser  than  himself;  and  that  more  by  an  hour's 
discourse  than  by  a  day's  meditation.  It  was  well 
said  by  Themistocles  to  the  King  of  Persia, 
"That  speech  was  like  cloth  of  Arras,  opened 
and  put  abroad;  whereby  the  imagery  doth 
appear  in  figure ;  whereas  in  thoughts  they  lie 
but  as  in  packs."  Neither  is  this  second  fruit  of 
friendship,  in  opening  the  understanding,  re 
strained  only  to  such  friends  as  are  able  to  give  a 
man  counsel,  (they  indeed  are  best,)  but  even 
without  that  a  man  learneth  of  himself,  andbring- 
eth  his  own  thoughts  to  light,  and  whetteth  his 
wits  as  against  a  stone,  which  itself  cuts  not.  In 
a  word,  a  man  were  better  relate  himself  to  *b  stu- 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


35 


tue  or  picture,  than  to  suffer  his  thoughts  to  pass  I  your  body;  and,  therefore,  may  put  you  in  a  way 
in  smother.  for  a  present  cure,  but  overthroweth  your  health 


Add  now,  to  make  this  second  fruit  of  friend 
ship  complete,  that  other  point  which  lieth  more 


open, 


and    falleth    within    vulgar    observation : 


which  is  faithful  counsel  from  a  friend.  Hera- 
clitus  saith  well  in  one  of  his  enigmas,  "Dry 
light  is  ever  the  best,"  and  certain  it  is,  that  the 
light  that  a  man  receiveth  by  counsel  from  an 
other,  is  drier  and  purer  than  that  which  cometh 
from  his  own  understanding  and  judgment : 
which  is  ever  infused  and  drenched  in  his  affec 
tions  and  customs.  So  as  there  is  as  much  differ 
ence  between  the  counsel  that  a  friend  giveth,  and 
that  a  man  giveth  himself,  as  there  is  between  the 
counsel  of  a  friend  and  of  a  flatterer;  for  there  is 
no  such  flatterer  as  is  a  man's  self,  and  there  is 
no  such  remedy  against  flattery  of  a  man's  self 
as  the  liberty  of  a  friend.  Counsel  is  of  two 
sorts ;  the  one  concerning  manners,  the  other  con 
cerning  business  :  for  the  first,  the  best  preserva 
tive  "to  keep  the  mind  in  health  is  the  faithful 
admonition  of  a  friend.  The  calling  of  a  man's 
self  to  a  strict  account  is  a  meiicine  sometimes 
too  piercing  and  corrosive ;  reading  good  books 


in  some  other  kind,  and  so  cure  the  disease,  and 
kill  the  patient:  but  a  friend,  that  is  wholly  ac 
quainted  with  a  man's  estate  will  beware,  by  fur 
thering  any  present  business,  how  he  dasheth 
upon  other  inconvenience;  and,  therefore,  rest 
not  upon  scattered  counsels ;  they  will  rather  dis 
tract  and  mislead,  than  settle  and  direct. 

After  these  two  noble  fruits  of  friendship, » 
(peace  in  the  affections,  and  support  of^  the  judg- ' 
ment,)  followeth  the  last  fruit,  wnTch  is,  like  the 
pomegranate,  full  of  many  kernels;  I  mean,  aid 
and  bearing  a  part  in  all  actions  and  occasions. 
ffere  the'best  way  to  represent  to  life  the  mani 
fold  use  of  friendship,  is  to  cast  and  see  how 
many  things  there  are  which  a  man  cannot  do 
himself:  and  then  it  will  appear  that  it  was  a  spa 
ring  speech  of  the  ancients,  to  say,  "  that  a  friend 
is  another  himself;  for  that  a  friend  is  far  more 
than  himself."  Men  have  their  time,  and  die 
many  times  in  desire  of  some  things  which  they 
principally  take  to  heart:  the  bestowing  of  a 
child,  the  finishing  of  a  work,  or  the  like.  If  a 
man  have  a  true  friend,  he  may  rest  almost  secure 


that  the  care  of  those  things  will  continue  after 
him ;  so  that  a  man  hath,  as  it  were,  two  lives  in 


of  morality  is  a  little  flat  and  dead ;  observing  our 
faults  in  others  is  sometimes  improper  for  our 
case ;  but  the  best  receipt  (best  I  say  to  work  and  his  desires.  A  man  hath  a  body,  and  that  body  is 
best  to  take)  is  the  admonition  of  a  friend.  It  is  confined  to  a  place ;  but  where  friendship  is,  all 
a  strange  thing  to  behold  vdiat  gross  errors  and  I  offices  of  life  are,  as  it  were,  granted  to  him  and 
extreme  absurdities  many  (especially  of  the  greaterfilhis  deputy;  for  he  may  exercise  them  by  his 
sort)  do  commit  for  want  of  a  friend  to  tell  friend.  How  many  things  are  there  which  a  man 
them  of  them,  to  the  great  damage  both  of  their  cannot,  with  any  face,  or  comeliness,  say  or  do 

himself?      A  man   can  scarce   allege  his   own 
merits  with  modesty,  much  less  extol  them :  a 


fame  and  fortune :  for,  as  St.  James  saith,  they 
are  as  men  ^  that  looks  sometimes  into  a  glass, 
and  presently  forget  their  own  shape  and  favour:" 
as  for  business,  a  man  may  think,  if  he  will,  that 
two  eyes  see  no  more  than  one ;  or,  that  a  gamester 
seeth  always  more  than  a  looker-on ;  or,  that  a  man 
in  anger  is  as  wise  as  he  that  hath  said  over  the 
four  and  twenty  letters ;  or,  that  a  musket  may  be 
shot  off  as  well  upon  the  arm  as  upon  a  rest ;  and 
such  other  fond  and  high  imaginations,  to  think 
himself  all  in  all:  but  when  all  is  done,  the  help 
of  good  counsel  is  that  which  setteth  business 
straight :  and  if  any  man  think  that  he  will  take 
counsel,  but  it  shall  be  by  pieces ;  asking  counsel 
in  one  business  of  one  man,  and  in  another  busi 
ness  of  another  man;  it  is  well,  (that  is  to  say, 
better,  perhaps,  than  if  he  asked  none  at  all,)  but 
he  runneth  two  dangers ;  one,  that  he  shall  not 
be  faithfully  counselled ;  for  it  is  a  rare  thing, 
except  it  be  from  a  perfect  and  entire  friend,  to 
have  counsel  given,  ,but  such  as  shall  be  bowed 
and  crooked  to  some  ends  which  he  hath  that 
giveth  it :  the  other,  that  he  shall  have  counsel 
given,  hurtful  and  unsafe,  (though  with  good 
meaning,)  and  mixed  partly  of  mischief,  and  part 
ly  of  remedy ;  even  as  if  you  would  call  a  physi 
cian,  that  is  thought  good  for  the  cure  of  the 
disease  you  complain  of,  but  is  unacquainted  with 


man  cannot  sometimes  brook  to  supplicate,  or 
beg,  and  a  number  of  the  like :  but  all  these 
things  are  graceful  in  a  friend's  mouth,  which  are 
blushing  in  a  man's  own.  So  again,  a  man's 
person  hath  many  proper  relations  which  he  can 
not  put  off.  A  man  cannot  speak  to  his  son  but 
as  a  father;  to  his  wife  but  as  a  husband  ;  to  his 
enemy  but  upon  terms:  whereas  a  friend  may 
speak  as  the  case  requires,  and  not  as  it  sorteth 
with  the  person :  but  to  enumerate  these  things 
were  endless;  I  have  given  the  rule,  where  a  man 
cannot  fitly  play  his  own  part,  if  he  have  not  a 
friend,  he  may  quit  the  stage. 

XXVIII.     OF  EXPENSE. 

RICHES  are  for  spending,  and  spending  for  ho 
nour  and  good  actions;  therefore  extraordinary 
expense  must  be  limited  by  the  worth  of  the  oc 
casion  ;  for  voluntary  undoing  may  be  as  well  for 
a  man's  country  as  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven ; 
but  ordinary  expense  ought  to  be  limited  by  a 
man's  estate,  and  governed  with  such  regard,  as 
it  be  within  his  compass ;  and  not  subject  to  de 
ceit  and  abuse  of  servants ;  and  ordered  to  the  best 
show,  that  the  bills  may  be  less  than  the  estima 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


tion  abroad.  Certainly,  if  a  man  will  keep  but 
of  even  hand,  his  ordinary  expenses  ought  to  be 
but  to  the  half  of  his  receipts ;  and  if  he  think  to 
wax  rich,  but  to  the  third  part.  It  is  no  baseness 
for  the  greatest  to  descend  and  look  into  their  own 
estate.  Some  forbear  it,  not  upon  negligence 
alone,  but  doubting  to  bring  themselves  into  me 
lancholy,  in  respect  they  shall  find  it  broken :  but 
wounds  cannot  be  cured  without  searching.  He 
that  cannot  look  into  his  own  estate  at  all,  had 
need  both  choose  well  those  whom  he  employeth, 
and  change  them  often ;  for  new  are  more  timo 
rous  and  less  subtle.  He  that  can  look  into  his 
estate  but  seldom,  it  behoveth  him  to  turn  all  to 
certainties.  A  man  had  need,  if  he  be  plentiful 
in  some  kind  of  expense,  to  be  saving  again  in 
some  other :  as  if  he  be  plentiful  in  diet,  to  be 
saving  in  apparel :  if  he  be  plentiful  in  the  hall, 
to  be  saving  in  the  stable,  and  the  like ;  for  he 
that  is  plentiful  in  expenses  of  all  kinds  will 
hardly  be  preserved  from  decay.  In  clearing  of  a 
man's  estate,  he  may  as  well  hurt  himself  in 
being  in  too  sudden,  as  in  letting  it  run  on  too 
long;  for  hasty  selling  is  commonly  as  disadvan- 
tageable  as  interest.  Besides,  he  that  clears  at 
once  will  relapse;  for  finding  himself  out  of 
straits,  he  will  revert  to  his  customs  :  but  he  that 
cleareth  by  degrees  induceth  a  habit  of  frugality, 
and  gaineth  as  well  upon  his  mind  as  upon  his 
estate.  Certainly,  who  hath  a  state  to  repair, 
may  not  despise  small  things;  and,  commonly,  it 
is  less  dishonourable  to  abridge  petty  charges  than 
to  stoop  to  petty  gettings.  A  man  ought  warily 
to  begin  charges,  which  once  begun  will  continue : 
but  in  matters  that  return  not,  he  may  be  more 
magnificent. 


XXIX.     OF  THE  TRUE  GREATNESS   OF 
KINGDOMS  AND  ESTATES. 

THE  speech  of  Themistocles,  the  Athenian, 
which  was  haughty  and  arrogant,  in  taking  so 
much  to  himself,  had  been  a  grave  and  wise  ob 
servation  and  censure,  applied  at  large  to  others. 
Desired  at  a  feast  to  touch  a  lute,  he  said,  "  He 
could  not  fiddle,  but  yet  he  could  make  a  small 
town  a  great  city."  These  words  (holpen  a  little 
with  a  metaphor)  may  express  two  differing  abili 
ties  in  those  that  deal  in  business  of  estate;  for, 
if  a  true  survey  be  taken  of  counsellors  and  states 
men,  there  may  be  found  (though  rarely)  those 
which  can  make  a  small  state  great,  and  yet  can 
not  fiddle :  as,  on  the  other  side,  there  will  be 
found  a  great  many  that  can  fiddle  very  cunning 
ly,  but  yet  are  so  far  from  being  able  to  make  a 
small  state  great,  as  their  gift  lieth  the  other 
way;  to  bring  a  great  and  flourishing  estate  to 
ruin  and  decay  :  and,  certainly,  those  degenerate 
arts  and  shifts,  whereby  many  counsellors  and 
governors  gain  both  favour  with  their  masters, 
ana  estimation  with  the  vulgar,  deserve  no  better 


name  than  fiddling ;  being  things  rather  pleasing 
for  the  time,  and  graceful  to  themselves  only,  than 
tending  to  the  weal  and  advancement  of  the  state 
which  they  serve.  There  are  also  (no  doubt) 
counsellors  and '  governors  which  may  be  held 
sufficient,  "  negotiis  pares,"  able  to  manage 
affairs,  and  to  keep  them  from  precipices  and 
manifest  inconveniences ;  which,  nevertheless, 
are  far  from  the  ability  to  raise  and  amplify  an 
estate  in  power,  means,  and  fortune :  but  be  the 
workmen  what  they  may  be,  let  us  speak  of  the 
work ;  that  is,  the  true  greatness  of  kingdoms  and 
estates,  and  the  means  thereof.  An  argument  fit 
for  great  and  mighty  princes  to  have  in  their  hand  ; 
to  the  end,  that  neither  by  over-measuring  their 
forces  they  lose  themselves  in  vain  enterprises ; 
nor,  on  the  other  side,  by  undervaluing  them,  they 
descend  to  fearful  and  pusillanimous  counsels. 

The  greatness  of  an  estate,  in  bulk  and  terri 
tory,  doth  fall  under  measure ;  and  the  greatness 
of  finances  and  revenue  doth  fall  under  computa 
tion.  The  population  may  appear  by  musters ; 
and  the  number  and  greatness  of  cities  and  towns 
by  cards  and  mapfc ;  but  yet  there  is  not  any  thing, 
amongst  civil  affairs,  more  subject  to  error  than 
the  right  valuation  and  true  judgment  concerning 
the  power  and  forces  of  an  estate.  The  kingdom 
of  heaven  is  compared,  not  to  any  great  kernel, 
or  nut,  but  to  a  grain  of  mustard-seed  ;  which  is 
one  of  the  least  grains,  but  hath  in  it  a  property 
and  spirit  hastily  to  get  up  and  spread.  So  are 
there  states  great  in  territory,  and  yet  not  apt  to 
enlarge  or  command  :  and  some  that  have  but  a 
small  dimension  of  stem,  and  yet  apt  to  be  the 
foundations  of  great  monarchies. 

Walled  towns,  stored  arsenals  and  armories, 
goodly  races  of  horse,  chariots  of  Avar,  elephants, 
ordinance,  artillery,  and  the  like;  all  this  is  but  a 
sheep  in  a  lion's  skin,  except  the  breed  and  dis 
position  of  the  people  be  stout  and  warlike. 
Nay,  number  (itself)  in  armies  importeth  not 
much  where  the  people  is  of  weak  courage ;  for, 
as  Virgil  saith,  "It  never  troubles  a  wolf  how 
many  the  sheep  be."  The  army  of  the  Persians 
in  the  plains  of  Arbela,  was  such  a  vast  sea  of 
people,  as  it  did  somewhat  astonish  the  comman 
ders  in  Alexanders  army,  who  came  to  him, 
therefore,  and  wished  him  to  set  upon  them  by 
night;  but  he  answered,  "he  would  not  pilfer 
the  victory ;"  and  the  defeat  was  easy.  When 
Tigranes,  the  Armenian,  being  encamped  upon  a 
hill  with  four  hundred  thousand  men,  discovered 
the  army  of  the  Romans,  being  not  above  four 
teen  thousand,  marching  towards  him,  he  made 
himself  merry  with  it,  and  said,  "  Yonder  men 
are  too  many  for  an  ambassage,  and  too  few  for 
a  fight;"  but,  before  the  sun  set,  he  found  them 
enow  to  give  him  the  chase  with  infinite  slaugh 
ter.  Many  are  the  examples  of  the  great  odds 
between  number  and  courage :  so  that  a  man  may 
truly  make  a  judgment,  that  the  principal  point 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


37 


of  greatness,  in  any  state,  is  to  ha*ve  a  race  of  mili 
tary  men.  Neither  is  money  the  sinews  of  war, 
(as  it  is  trivially  said,)  where  the  sinews  of  men's 
arms  in  base  and  effeminate  people  are  failing; 
for  Solon  said  well  to  Crcesus,  (when  in  ostenta 
tion  he  showed  him  his  gold,)  "  Sir,  if  any  other 
come  that  hath  better  iron  than  you,  he  will  be 
master  of  all  this  gold."  Therefore,  let  any 
prince,  or  state,  think  soberly  of  his  forces,  except 
his  militia  of  natives  be  of  good  and  valiant  sol 
diers  ;  arid  let  princes,  on  the  other  side,  that  have 
subjects  of  martial  disposition,  know  their  own 
strength,  unless  they  be  otherwise  wanting  unto 
themselves.  As  for  mercenary  forces,  (which  is 
the  help  in  this  case,)  all  examples  show  that, 
whatsoever  estate,  or  prince,  doth  rest  upon  them, 
he  may  spread  his  feathers  for  a  time,  but  he 
will  mew  them  soon  after. 

The  blessing  of  Judah  and  Issachar  will  never 
meet ;  that  the  same  people,  or  nation,  should  be 
both  the  lion's  whelp  and  the  ass  between  bur 
dens;  neither  will  it  be,  that  a  people  overlaid 
with  taxes  should  ever  become  valiant  and  mar 
tial.  It  is  true,  that  taxes,  levied  by  consent  of 
the  estate,  do  abate  men's  courage  less  ;  as  it  hath 
been  seen  notably  in  the  exercises  of  the  Low 
Countries;  and,  in  some  degree,  in  the  subsidies 
of  England ;  for,  you  must  note,  that  we  speak 
now  of  the  heart,  and  not  of  the  purse ;  so  that, 
although  the  same  tribute  and  tax  laid  by  con 
sent  or  by  imposing,  be  all  one  to  the  purse,  yet 
it  works  diversely  upon  the  courage.  So  that  you 
may  conclude,  that  no  people  overcharged  with 
tribute  is  fit  for  empire. 

Let  states,  that  aim  at  greatness,  take  heed  how 
their  nobility  and  gentlemen  do  multiply  too  fast; 
for  that  maketh  the  common  subject  grow  to  be  a 
peasant  and  base  swain,  driven  out  of  heart,  and, 
in  effect  but  the  gentleman's  labourer.  Even  as 
you  may  see  in  coppice  woods ;  if  you  leave  your 
staddles  too  thick,  you  shall  never  have  clean  un 
derwood,  but  shrubs  and  bushes.  So  in  countries, 
if  the  gentlemen  be  too  many,  the  commons  will 
be  base ;  and  you  will  bring  it  too  that,  that  not 
the  hundredth  poll  will  be  fit  for  an  helmet ;  espe 
cially  as  to  the  infantry,  which  is  the  nerve  of 
an  army ;  and  so  there  will  be  great  population 
and  little  strength.  This  which  I  speak  of  hath 
been  nowhere  better  seen  than  by  comparing  of 
England  and  France;  whereof  England,  though 
far  less  in  territory  and  population,  hath  been 
(nevertheless)  an  overmatch ;  in  regard  the  middle 
people  of  England  make  good  soldiers,  which  the 
peasants  of  France  do  not:  and  herein  the  device 
of  King  Henry  the  Seventh  (whereof  I  have  spo 
ken  largely  in  the  history  of  his  life)  was  profound 
and  admirable ;  in  making  farms  and  houses  of 
husbandry  of  a  standard ;  that  is,  maintained  with 
such  a  proportion  of  land  unto  them  as  may  breed 
a  subject  to  live  in  convenient  plenty,  and  no  ser 
vile  condition;  and  to  keep  the  plough  in  the 


hands  of  the  owners,  and  not  mere  hirelings ;  and 
thus  indeed  you  shall  attain  to  Virgil's  character, 
which  he  gives  to  ancient  Italy  : 

"Terra  potens  armis  atque  ubere  glebae." 

Neither  is  that  state  (which,  for  any  thing  I 
know,  is  almost  peculiar  to  England,  and  hardly 
to  be  found  anywhere  else,  except  it  be,  perhaps, 
in  Poland)  to  be  passed  over;  I  mean  the  state 
of  free  servants  and  attendants  upon  noblemen 
and  gentlemen,  which  are  noways  inferior  under 
the  yeomanry  for  arms ;  and,  therefore,  out  of  all 
question,  the  splendour  and  magnificence,  and 
great  retinues,  and  hospitality  of  noblemen  and 
gentlemen  received  into  custom,  do  much  conduce 
unto  martial  greatness ;  whereas,  contrariwise, 
the  close  and  reserved  living  of  noblemen  and 
gentlemen  causeth  a  penury  of  military  forces. 

By  all  means  it  is  to  be  procured,  that  the  trunk 
of  Nebuchadnezzar's  tree  of  monarchy  be  great 
enough  to  bear  the  branches  and  the  boughs ;  that 
is,  that  the  natural  subjects  of  the  crown,  or  state, 
bear  a  sufficient  proportion  to  the  stranger  subjects 
that  they  govern ;  therefore  all  states  that  are 
liberal  of  naturalization  towards  strangers  are  fit 
for  empire ;  for  to  think  that  an  handful  of  people 
can,  with  the  greatest  courage  and  policy  in  the 
wrorld,  embrace  too  large  extent  of  dominion^it  _ 
may  hold  for  a  time,  but  it  will  fail  suddenly. 
The  Spartans  were  a  nice  people  in  point  of  natu 
ral  ization ;  whereby,  while  they  kept  their  compass, 
they  stood  firm;  but  when  they  did  spread,  and 
their  boughs  were  become  too  great  for  their  stem, 
they  became  a  windfall  upon  the  sudden.  Never 
any  state  was,  in  this  point,  so  open  to  receive 
strangers  into  their  body  as  were  the  Romans; 
therefore  it  sorted  with  them  accordingly,  for  they 
grew  to  the  greatest  monarchy.  Their  manner 
was  to  grant  naturalization,  (which  they  called 
"jus  civitatis,")  and  to  grant  it  in  the  highest  de 
gree,  that  is,  not  only  "jus  commercii,  jus  cori- 
nubii,  jus  haereditatis  ;"  but  also,  "jus  sufTragii," 
and  "jus  honorum;"  and  this  not  to  singular  per 
sons  alone,  but  likewise  to  whole  families ;  yea, 
to  cities,  and  sometimes  to  nations.  Add  to  this, 
their  custom  of  plantation  of  colonies,  whereby 
the  Roman  plant  was  removed  into  the  soil  of 
other  nations,  and,  putting  both  constitutions  to 
gether,  you  will  say,  that  it  was  not  the  Romans 
that  spread  upon  the  world,  but  it  was  the  world 
that  spread  upon  the  Romans ;  and  that  was  the 
sure  way  of  greatness.  I  have  marvelled  some 
times  at  Spain,  how  they  clasp  and  contain  so 
large  dominions  with  so  few  natural  Spaniards; 
but  sure  the  whole  compass  of  Spain  is  a  very 
great  body  of  a  tree,  far  above  Rome  and  Sparta 
at  the  first;  and,  besides,  though  they  have  not 
had  that  usage  to  naturalize  liberally,  yet  they 
have  that  which  is  next  to  it;  that  is,  to  employ, 
almost  indifferently,  all  nations  in  their  militia  of 
ordinary  soldiers ;  yea,  and  sometimes  in  their 
highest  commands ;  nay,  it  seemeth,  at  this  in- 

b 


38 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


slant,  they  are  sensible  of  this  want  of  natives ; 
as  by  pragmatical  sanction,  now  published,  ap- 
peareth. 

It  is  certain,  that  sedentary  and  within-door 
arts,  and  delicate  manufactures  (that  require 
rather  the  finger  than  the  arm)  have  in  their  na 
ture  a  contrariety  to  a  military  disposition ;  and 
generally  all  warlike  people  are  a  little  idle,  and 
love  danger  better  than  travail ;  neither  must  they 
be  too  much  broken  of  it,  if  they  shall  be  pre 
served  in  vigour:  therefore  it  was  great  advan 
tage  in  the  ancient  states  of  Sparta,  Athens, 
Rome,  and  others,  that  they  had  the  use  of  slaves, 
which  commonly  did  rid  those  manufactures;  but 
that  is  abolished,  in  greatest  part,  by  the  Chris 
tian  law.  That  which  cometh  nearest  to  it  is,  to 
leave  those  arts  chiefly  to  strangers,  (which,  for 
that  purpose,  are  the  more  easily  to  be  received,) 
and  to  contain  the  principal  bulk  of  the  vulgar 
natives  within  those  three  kinds,  tillers  of  the 
ground,  free  servants,  and  handicraftsmen  of 
strong  and  manly  arts ;  as  smiths,  masons,  car 
penters,  &c.  not  reckoning  professed  soldiers. 

But,  above  all,  for  empire  and  greatness,  it  im- 
portetli  most,  that  a  nation  do  profess  arms  as 
their  principal  honour,  study,  and  occupation ; 
for  the  things  which  we  formerly  have  spoken  of 
are  but  habilitations  towards  arms  ;  and  what  is 
habilitation  without  intention  and  act  1  Romulus, 
after  his  death  (as  they  report  or  feign)  sent  a 
present  to  the  Romans,  that  above  all  they  should 
intend  arms,  and  then  they  should  prove  the 
greatest  empire  of  the  world.  The  fabric  of  the 
state  of  Sparta  was  wholly  (though  not  wisely) 
framed  and  composed  to  that  scope  and  end  ;  the 
Persians  and  Macedonians  had  it  for  a  flash ;  the 
Gauls,  Germans,  Goths,  Saxons,  Normans,  and 
others,  had  it  for  a  time :  the  Turks  have  it  at  this 
day,  though  in  great  declination.  Of  Christian 
Europe,  they  that  have  it  are,  in  effect,  only  the 
Spaniards  :  but  it  is  so  plain,  that  every  man  pro- 
fiteth  in  that  he  most  intendeth,  that  it  needeth 
not  to  be  stood  upon :  it  is  enough  to  point  at  it ; 
that  no  nation  which  doth  not  directly  profess 
arms,  may  look  to  have  greatness  fall  into  their 
mouths ;  and,  on  the  other  side,  it  is  a  most  cer 
tain  oracle  of  time,  that  those  states  that  continue 
long  in  that  profession  (as  the  Romans  and  Turks 
principally  have  done)  do  wonders;  and  those 
that  have  professed  arms  but  for  an  age  have,  not 
withstanding,  commonly  attained  that  greatness 
in  that  age  which  maintained  them  long  after, 
when  their  profession  and  exercise  of  arms  hath 
grown  to  decay. 

Incident  to  this  point,  is  for  a  state  to  have  those 
!aws  or  customs  which  may  reach  forth  unto  them 
just  occasions  (as  may  be  pretended)  of  war;  for 
there  is  that  justice  imprinted  in  the  nature  of 
men,  that  they  enter  not  upon  wars  (whereof  so 
many  calamities  do  ensue,)  but  upon  some,  at  the 
ieast  specious,  grounds  and  quarrels.  The  Turk 


%*JK5 
hath  at  hand,  for'dtuse  of  war,  the  propagation 

of  his  law  or  sect,  a  quarrel  that  he  may  always 
command.  The  Romans,  though  they  esteemed 
the  extending  the  limits  of  their  empire  to  be 
great  honour  to  their  generals  when  it  was  done, 
yet  they  never  rested  upon  that  alone  to  begin  a 
war :  first,  therefore,  let  nations  that  pretend  to 
greatness  have  this,  that  they  be  sensible  of 
wrongs,  either  upon  borderers,  merchants,  or  po 
litic  ministers ;  and  that  they  sit  not  too  long  upon 
a  provocation :  secondly,  let  them  be  pressed  and 
ready  to  give  aids  and  succours  to  their  confede 
rates;  as  it  ever  was  with  the  Romans;  inso 
much,  as  if  the  confederates  had  leagues  defen 
sive  with  divers  other  states,  and,  upon  invasion 
offered,  did  implore  their  aids  severally,  yet  the 
Romans  would  ever  be  the  foremost,  and  leave  it 
to  none  other  to  have  the  honour.  As  for  the 
wars,  which  were  anciently  made  on  the  behalf 
of  a  kind  of  party,  or  tacit  conformity  of  estate, 
I  do  not  see  how  they  may  be  well  justified:  as 
when  the  Romans  made  a  war  for  the  liberty  of 
Grsecia ;  or,  when  the  Lacedaemonians  and  Athe 
nians  made  war  to  set  up  or  pull  down  democra 
cies  and  oligarchies :  or  when  wars  were  made 
by  foreigners,  under  the  pretence  of  justice  or 
protection,  to  deliver  the  subjects  of  others  from 
tyranny  and  oppression,  and  the  like.  Let  it 
suffice,  that  no  estate  expect  to  be  great,  that  is 
not  awake,  upon  any  just  occasion  of  arming 

No  body  can  be  healthful  without  exercise, 
neither  natural  body  nor  politic;  and,  certainly, 
to  a  kingdom,  or  estate,  a  just  and  honourable 
war  is  the  true  exercise.  A  civil  war,  indeed,  is 
like  the  heat  of  a  fever;  but  a  foreign  war  is  like 
the  heat  of  exercise,  and  serveth  to  keep  the  body 
in  health ;  for,  in  a  slothful  peace,  both  courages 
will  effeminate,  and  manners  corrupt ;  but  how 
soever  it  be  for  happiness,  without  all  question 
for  greatness,  it  maketh  to  be  still  for  the  most 
part  in  arms ;  and  the  strength  of  a  veteran  army 
(though  it  be  a  chargeable  business)  always  on 
foot,  is  that  which  commonly  giveth  the  law;  or, 
at  least,  the  reputation  amongst  all  neighbour 
states,  as  may  well  be  seen  in  Spain,  which  hath 
had,  in  one  part  or  other,  a  veteran  army  almost 
continually,  now  by  the  space  of  sixscore  years. 

To  be  master  of  the  sea  is  an  abridgment  of  a 
monarchy.  Cicero,  writing  to  Atticus  of  Pom- 
pey's  preparation  against  Caesar,  saith,  "Consi- 
liurn  Pompeii  plane  Themistocleum  est;  putat 
enim,  qui  mari  potitur,  eum  rerum  potiri ;"  and, 
without  doubt,  Pompey  had  tired  out  Caesar,  if 
upon  vain  confidence  he  had  not  left  that  way. 
We  see  the  great  effects  of  battles  by  sea :  the 
battle  of  Actium  decided  the  empire  of  the  world; 
the  battle  of  Lepanto  arrested  the  greatness  of 
the  Turk.  There  be  many  examples,  where  sea 
fights  have  been  final  to  the  war :  but  this  is  when 
princes,  or  states,  have  set  up  their  rest  upon  the 
battles ;  but  thus  much  is  certain,  that  he  that 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


39 


commands  the  sea  is  at  g^Hpiberty,  and  may 
take  as  much  and  as  little  or^ie  war  as  he  will ; 
whereas  those  that  be  strongest  by  land  are  many 
times,  nevertheless,  in  great  straits.  Surely,  at 
this  day,  with  us  of  Europe,  the  vantage  of  strength 
at  sea  (which  is  one  of  the  principal  dowries  of 
this  kingdom  of  Great  Britain)  is  great;  both 
because  most  of  the  kingdoms  of  Europe  are  not 
merely  inland,  but  girt  with  the  sea  most  part  of 
their  compass;  and  because  the  wealth  of  both 
Indies  seems,  in  great  part,  but  an  accessary  to 
the  command  of  the  seas. 

The  wars  of  later  ages  seem  to  be  made  in  the 
dark,  in  respect  to  the  glory  and  honour  which 
reflected  upon  men  from  the  wars  in  ancient  time. 
There  be  now,  for  martial  encouragement,  some 
degrees  and  orders  of  chivalry,  which  nevertheless 
are  conferred  promiscuously  upon  soldiers  and  no 
soldiers,  and  some  remembrance  perhaps  upon  the 
escutcheon,  and  some  hospitals  for  maimed  sol 
diers,  and  such  like  things;  but  in  ancient  times, 
the  trophies  erected  upon  the  place  of  the  victory ; 
the  funeral  laudatives  and  monuments  for  those 
that  died  in  the  wars ;  the  crowns  and  garlands 
personal ;  the  style  of  emperor,  which  the  great 
king  of  the  world  after  borrowed ;  the  triumphs 
of  the  generals  upon  their  return;  the  great  dona 
tives  and  largesses  upon  the  disbanding  of  the 
armies,  where  things  able  to  inflame  all  men's 
courages;  but  above  all,  that  of  the  triumph 
amongst  the  Romans  was  not  pageants,  or  gau- 
dery,  but  one  of  the  wisest  and  noblest  institutions 
that  ever  was ;  for  it  contained  three  things, 
honour  to  the  general,  riches  to  the  treasury  out 
of  the  spoils,  and  donatives  to  the  army :  but  that 
honour,  perhaps,  were  not  fit  for  monarchies, 
except  it  be  in  the  person  of  the  monarch  himself, 
or  his  sons ;  as  it  carne  to  pass  in  the  times  of  the 
Roman  emperors,  who  did  impropriate  the  actual 
triumphs  to  themselves  and  their  sons,  for  such 
wars  as  they  did  achieve  in  person,  and  left  only 
for  wars  achieved  by  subjects,  some  triumphal 
garments  and  ensigns  to  the  general. 

To  conclude :  no  man  can  by  care  taking  (as 
the  Scripture  saith)  "add  a  cubit  to  his  stature," 
in  this  little  model  of  a  man's  body;  but  in  the 
great  fame  of  kingdoms  and  commonwealths,  it 
is  in  the  power  of  princes,  or  estates,  to  add  am 
plitude  and  greatness  to  their  kingdoms;  for  by 
introducing  such  ordinances,  constitutions,  and 
customs,  as  we  have  now  touched,  they  may  sow 
greatness  to  their  posterity  and  succession :  but 
these  things  are  commonly  not  observed,  but  left 
to  take  their  chance. 


XXX.     OF  REGIMEN  OF  HEALTH. 

THERE  is  a  wisdom  in  this  beyond  the  rules  of 
physic  :  a  man's  own  observation,  what  he  finds 
good  of,  and  what  he  finds  hurt  of,  is  the  best 
physic  to  preserve  health;  but  it  is  a  safer  con 


clusion  to  say,  "This  agreeth  not  well  with  me, 
therefore  I  will  not  continue  it;"  than  this,  "I 
find  no  offence  of  this,  therefore  I  may  use  it:" 
or  strength  of  nature  in  youth  passeth  over  many 
excesses  which  are  owing  a  man  till  his  age. 
Discern  of  the  coming  on  of  years,  and  think  not 
to  do  the  same  things  still ;  for  age  will  not  be 
defied.  Beware  of  sudden  change  in  any  great 
point  of  diet,  and,  if  necessity  enforce  it,  fit  the 
rest  to  it;  for  it  is  a  secret  both  in  nature  and 
state,  that  it  is  safer  to  change  many  things  than 
one.  Examine  thy  customs  of  diet,  sleep,  exer 
cise,  apparel,  and  the  like  ;  and  try,  in  any  thing 
thou  shalt  judge  hurtful,  to  discontinue  it  by  little 
and  little;  but  so,  as  if  thou  dost  find  any  incon 
venience  by  the  change,  thou  come  back  to  it 
again  :  for  it  is  hard  to  distinguish  that  which  is 
generally  held  good  and  wholesome,  from  that 
which  is  good  particularly,  and  fit  for  thine  own 
body.  To  be  free-minded  and  cheerfully  disposed 
at  hours  of  meat  and  of  sleep,  and  of  exercise, 
is  one  of  the  best  precepts  of  long  lasting.  As 
for  the  passions  and  studies  of  the  mind,  avoid 
envy,  anxious  fears,  anger,  fretting  inwards,  sub 
tle  and  knotty  inquisitions,  joys  and  exhilarations 
in  excess,  sadness  not  communicated.  Entertain 
hopes,  mirth  rather  than  joy,  variety  of  delights, 
rather  than  surfeit  of  them  ;  wonder  and  admira 
tion,  and  therefore  novelties ;  studies  that  fill  the 
mind  with  splendid  and  illustrious  objects,  as 
histories,  fables,  and  contemplations  of  nature.  If 
you  fly  physic  in  health  altogether,  it  wyill  be  too 
strange  for  your  body  when  you  shall  need  it ;  if 
you  make  it  too  familiar,  it  will  work  no  extraor 
dinary  effect  when  sickness  cometh.  I  commend 
rather  some  diet  for  certain  seasons,  than  frequent 
use  of  physic,  except  it  be  grown  into  a  custom ; 
for  those  diets  alter  the  body  more,  and  trouble  it 
less.  Despise  no  new  accident  in  your  body,  but 
ask  opinion  of  it.  In  sickness,  respect  health 
principally ;  and  in  health,  action :  for  those  that 
put  their  bodies  to  endure  in  health,  may,  in  most 
sicknesses  which  are  not  very  sharp,  be  cured 
only  with  diet  and  tendering.  Celsus  could  never 
have  spoken  it  as  a  physician,  had  he  not  been  a 
wise  man  withal,  when  he  giveth  it  for  one  of  the 
great  precepts  of  health  and  lasting,  that  a  man 
do  vary  and  interchange  contraries,  but  with  an 
inclination  to  the  more  benign  extreme  :  use  fast 
ing  and  full  eating,  but  rather  full  eating;  watch 
ing  and  sleep,  but  rather  sleep;  sitting  and 
exercise,  but  rather  exercise,  and  the  like:  so 
shall  nature  be  cherished,  and  yet  taught  mas 
teries.  Physicians  are  some  of  them  so  pleasing 
and  conformable  to  the  humour  of  the  patient,  as 
they  press  not  the  true  cure  of  the  disease  :  and 
some  other  are  so  regular  in  proceeding  according 
to  art  for  the  disease,  as  they  respect  not  suffi 
ciently  the  condition  of  the  patient.  Take  one  of 
a  middle  temper ;  or,  if  it  may  not  be  found  in  one 
man,  combine  two  of  either  sort;  and  forget  noc 


40 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


to  call  as  well  the  best  acquainted  with  your 
body,  as  the  best  reputed  of  for  his  faculty. 

; 

XXXI.     OF  SUSPICION. 

SUSPICIONS  among  thoughts  arelike  bats  among 
birds,  they  ever  fly  by  twilight :  certainly  they  are 
to  be  repressed,  or  at  the  least  well  guarded ;  for 
they  cloud  the  mind,  they  lose  friends,  and  they 
check  with  business,  whereby  business  cannot  go 
on  currently  and  constantly:  they  dispose  kings 
to  tyranny,  husbands  to  jealousy,  wise  men  to 
irresolution  and  melancholy :  they  are  defects,  not 
in  the  heart,  but  in  the  brain ;  for  they  take  place 
in  the  stoutest  natures,  as  in  the  example  of  Henry 
the  Seventh  of  England ;  there  was  not  a  more 
suspicious  man  nor  a  more  stout :  and  in  such  a 
composition  they  do  small  hurt;  for  commonly 
they  are  not  admitted,  but  with  examination, 
whether  they  be  likely  or  no?  but  in  fearful  na 
tures  they  gain  ground  too  fast.  There  is  nothing 
makes  a  man  suspect  much,  more  than  to  know 
little ;  and,  therefore,  men  should  remedy  suspi 
cion  by  procuring  to  know  more,  and  not  to  keep 
their  suspicions  in  smother.  What  would  men 
have  ?  do  they  think  those  they  employ  and  deal 
with  are  saints  ?  do  they  not  think  they  will  have 
their  own  ends,  and  be  truer  to  themselves  than 
to  them"?  therefore  there  is  no  better  way  to  mo 
derate  suspicions,  than  to  account  upon  such  sus 
picions  as  true,  and  yet  to  bridle  them  as  false : 
for  so  far  a  man  ought  to  make  use  of  suspicions, 
as  to  provide,  as  if  that  should  be  true  that  he 
suspects,  yet  ilTmay  do  him  no  hurt.  Suspicions 
that  the  mind  of  itself  gathers  are  but  buzzes ; 
but  suspicions  that  are  artificially  nourished,  and 
put  into  men's  heads  by  the  tales  and  whisperings 
of  others,  have  stings.  Certainly,  the  best  mean, 
to  clear  the  way  in  this  same  wood  of  suspicions, 
is  frankly  to  communicate  them  with  the  party 
that  he  suspects ;  for  thereby  he  shall  be  sure  to 
know  more  of  the  truth  of  them  than  he  did 
before;  and  withal  shall  make  that  party  more 
circumspect,  not  to  give  further  cause  of  suspi 
cion;  but  this  would  not  be  done  to  men  of  base 
natures;  for  they,  if  they  find  themselves  once 
suspected,  will  never  be  true.  The  Italian  says, 
"  Sospetto  licentia  fede ;"  as  if  suspicion  did  give 
a  passport  to  faith ;  but  it  ought  rather  to  kindle 
it  to  discharge  itself. 

XXXII.     OF  DISCOURSE. 

SOME  in  their  discourse  desire  rather  commen 
dation  of  wit,  in  being  able  to  hold  all  arguments, 
than  of  judgment,  in  discerning  what  is  true;  as 
if  it  were  a  praise  to  know  what  might  be  said, 
and  not  what  should  be  thought.  Some  have  cer 
tain  common-places  and  themes,  wherein  they  are 
good,  and  want  variety ;  which  kind  of  poverty 
is  for  the  most  part  tedious,  and,  when  it  is  once 


perceived,  ridicuH^M|The  honourablest  part  of 
talk  is  to  give  the  orcasion;  and  again  to  mode 
rate  and  pass  to  somewhat  else,  for  then  a  man 
leads  the  dance.  It  is  good  in  discourse,  and 
speech  of  conversation,  to  vary  and  intermingle 
speech  of  the  present  occasion  with  arguments, 
tales  with  reasons,  asking  of  questions  with  telling 
of  opinions,  and  jest  with  earnest:  for  it  is  a  dull 
thing  to  tire,  and  as  we  say  now,  to  jade  any  thing 
too  far.  As  for  jest,  there  be  certain  things  which 
ought  to  be  privileged  from  itj  namely,  religion, 
matters  of  state,  great  persons,  any  man's  present 
business  of  importance,  any  case  that  deserveth 
pity  ;  yet  there  be  some  that  think  their  wits  have 
been  asleep,  except  they  dart  out  somewhat  that 
is  piquant,  and  to  the  quick ;  that  is  a  vein  which 
would  be  bridled ; 

"Farce,  puer,  stimules,  et  fortius  utere  loris." 
And,  generally,  men  ought  to  find  the  difference 
between  saltness  and  bitterness.  Certainly,  he 
that  hath  a  satirical  vein,  as  he  maketh  others 
afraid  of  his  wit,  so  he  bad  nedH  be  afraid  of 
others'  memory.  He  that  questioneth  much, 
shall  learn  much,  and  content  much;  but  espe 
cially  if  he  apply  his  questions  to  the  skill  of  the 
persons  whom  he  asketh  ;  for  he  shall  give  them 
occasion  to  please  themselves  in  speaking,  and 
himself  shall  continually  gather  knowledge;  but 
let  his  questions  not  be  troublesome,  for  that  is 
fit  for  a  poser ;  and  let  him  be  sure  to  leave  other 
men  their  turns  to  speak :  nay,  if  there  be  any 
that  would  reign  and  take  up  all  the  time,  let  him 
find  means  to  take  them  off,  and  to  bring  others 
on,  as  musicians  use  to  do  with  those  that  dance 
too  long  galliards.  If  you  dissemble  sometimes 
your  knowledge  of  that  you  are  thought  to  know, 
you  shall  be  thought,  another  time,  to  know  that 
you  know  not.  Speech  of  a  man's  self  ought  to 
be  seldom,  and  well  chosen.  I  knew  one  was 
want  to  say  in  scorn,  "  He  must  needs  be  a  wise 
man,  he  speaks  so  much  of  himself:"  and  there 
is  but  one  case  wherein  a  man  may  commend 
himself  with  good  grace,  and  that  is  in  commend 
ing  virtue  in  another,  especially  if  it  be  such  a 
virtue  whereunto  himself  pretendeth.  Speech  of 
touch  towards  others  should  be  sparingly  used ; 
for  discourse  ought  to  be  as  a  field,  without 
coming  home  to  any  man.  I  knew  two  noble 
men,  of  the  west  part  of  England,  whereof  the 
one  was  given  to  scoff,  but  kept  ever  royal  cheer 
n  his  house ;  the  other  would  ask  of  those  that 
rad  been  at  the  other's  table,  "  Tell  truly,  Avas 
there  never  a  flout  or  dry  blow  given?"  To 
which  the  guest  would  answer,  "Such  and  such 
a  thing  passed."  The  lord  would  say,  "  I  thought 
ie  would  mar  a  good  dinner."  Discretion  of 
speech  is  more  than  eloquence;  and  to  speak 
agreeable^  to  him  wTith  whom  we  deal,  is  more 
tfian  to  speak  in  good  words,  or  in  good  order, 
A  good  continued  speech,  without  a  good  speech 
of  interlocution,  shows  slowness;  and  a  gooti 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


41 


reply,  or  second  speech,  wHKut  a  good  settled 
speech,  showeth  shallowness  and  weakness.  As 
we  see  in  beasts,  that  those  that  are  weakest  in  the 
course,  are  yet  nimblest  in  the  turn :  as  it  is  betwixt 
the  greyhound  and  the  hare.  To  use  too  many 
circumstances,  ere  one  come  to  the  matter,  is  weari 
some;  to  use  none  at  all,  is  blunt. 

XXXIII.     OF  PLANTATIONS. 

PLANTATIONS  are  amongst  ancient,  primitive, 
and  heroical  works.  When  the  world  was  young, 
it  begat  more  children  ;  but  now  it  is  old,  it  begets 
fewer  ;  for  I  may  justly  account  new  plantations 
to  be  the  children  of  former  kingdoms.  I  like  a 
plantation  in  a  pure  soil ;  that  is,  where  people 
are  not  displanted  to  the  end  to  plant  in  others  ;  for 
else  it  is  rather  an  extirpation  than  a  plantation. 
Planting  of  countries  is  like  planting  of  woods ; 
for  you  must  make  account  to  lose  almost  twenty 
years  profit,  and  expect  your  recompense  in  the 
end  :  for  the  principal  thing  that  hath  been  the  de 
struction  of  most  plantations,  hath  been  the  base 
arid  hasty  drawing  of  profit  in  the  first  years.  It 
is  true,  speedy  profit  is  not  to  be  neglected,  as  far 
as  may  stand  with  the  good  of  the  plantation,  but 
no  further.  It  is  a  shameful  and  unblessed  thing 
to  take  the  scum  of  people  and  wicked  condemned 
men,  to  be  the  people  with  whom  you  plant ;  and 
not  only  so,  but  it  spoileth  the  plantation ;  for  they 
will  ever  live  like  rogues,  and  not  fall  to  work, 
but  be  lazy,  and  do  mischief,  and  spend  victuals, 
and  be  quickly  weary,  and  then  certify  over  to 
their  country  to  the  discredit  of  the  plantation. 
The  people  wherewith  you  plant  ought  to  be  gar 
deners,  ploughmen,  labourers,  smiths,  carpenters, 
joiners,  fishermen,  fowlers,  with  some  few  apothe 
caries,  surgeons,  cooks,  and  bakers.  In  a  country 
of  plantation,  first  look  about  what  kind  of  victual 
the  country  yields  of  itself  to  hand  ;  as  chestnuts, 
walnuts,  pineapples,  olives,  dates,  plums,  cherries, 
wild  honey,  and  the  like,  and  make  use  of  them. 
Then  consider  what  victual,  or  esculent  things 
there  are  which  grow  speedily  and  within  the  year : 
as  parsnips,  carrots,  turnips,  onions,  radish,  arti 
chokes  of  Jerusalem,  maize,  and  the  like  :  for 
wheat,  barley,  and  oats,  they  ask  too  much  labour ; 
but  with  pease  and  beans  you  may  begin,  both  be 
cause  they  ask  less  labour,  and  because  they  serve 
for  meat  as  well  as  for  bread  ;  and  of  rice  likewise 
cometh  a  great  increase,  and  it  is  a  kind  of  meat. 
Above  all,  there  ought  to  be  brought  stor£j)iscuit, 
oatmeal,  flour,  meal,  and  the  like,  in  the  begin 
ning,  till  bread  may  be  had.  For  beasts,  or  birds, 
take  chiefly  such  as  are  least  subject  to  diseases, 
and  multiply  fastest ;  as  swine,  goats,  cocks,  hens, 
turkeys,  geese,  house-doves,  and  the  like.  The 
victual  in  plantations  ought  to  be  expended  al 
most  as  in  a  besieged  town ;  that  is,  with  certain 
allowance:  and  let  the  main  part  of  the  ground 
employed  to  gardens  or  corn,  be  to  a  common  stock ; 
VOL.  I  — e 


and  to  be  laid  in,  and  stored  up,  and  then  deliver 
ed  out  in  proportion ;  besides  some  spots  of  ground 
that  any  particular  person  will  manure  for  his  own 
private  use.  Consider,  likewise,  what  commo 
dities  the  soil  where  the  plantation  is  doth  natu 
rally  yield,  that  they  may  some  way  help  to  defray 
the  charge  of  the  plantation  ;  so  it  be  not,  as  was 
said,  to  the  untimely  prejudice  of  the  main  busi 
ness,  as  it  hath  fared  with  tobacco  in  Virginit. 
Wood  commonly  aboundeth  but  too  much  :  and 
therefore  timber  is  fit  to  be  one.  If  there  be  iron 
ore,  and  streams  whereupon  to  set  the  mills,  iron 
is  a  brave  commodity  where  wood  aboundeth. 
Making  of  bay-salt,  if  the  climate  be  proper  for  it, 
would-be  put  in  experience :  growing  silk  like 
wise,  if  any  be,  is  a  likely  commodity  :  pitch  and 
tar,  where  store  of  firs  and  pines  are,  will  not  fail ; 
so  drugs  and  sweet  woods,  where  they  are,  can 
not  but  yield  great  profit;  soap-ashes  likewise, 
and  other  things  that  may  be  thought  of;  but  moil 
not  too  much  under  ground,  for  the  hope  of  mines 
is  very  uncertain  and  useth  to  make  the  planters 
lazy  in  other  things.  For  government,  let  it  be  in 
the  hands  of  one,  assisted  with  some  counsel ;  and 
let  them  have  commission  to  exercise  martial  laws, 
with  some  limitation;  and,  above  all,  let  men 
make  that  profit  of  being  in  the  wilderness,  as  they 
have  God  always,  and  his  service  before  their  eyes ; 
let  not  the  government  of  the  plantation  depend 
upon  too  many  counsellors  and  undertakers  in  the 
country  that  planteth,  but  upon  a  temperate  num 
ber  ;  and  let  those  be  rather  noblemen  and  gentle 
men,  than  merchants  ;  for  they  look  ever  to  the 
present  gain  :  let  there  be  freedoms  from  custom, 
till  the  plantation  be  of  strength ;  and  not  only 
freedom  from  custom,  but  freedom  to  carry  their 
commodities  where  they  may  make  their  .best  of 
them,  except  there  be  some  special  cause  of  cau 
tion.  Cram  not  in  people,  by  sending  too  fast,  com 
pany  after  company  ;  but  rather  hearken  how 
they  waste,  and  send  supplies  proportionably ; 
but  so  as  the  number  may  live  well  in  the  planta 
tion,  and  not  by  surcharge  be  in  penury.  It  hath 
been  a  great  endangering  to  the  health  of  some 
plantations,  that  they  have  built  along  the  sea  and 
rivers  in  marish  and  unwholesome  grounds :  there 
fore,  though  you  begin  there,  to  avoid  carriage  and 
other  like  discommodities,  yet  build  still  rather 
upwards  from  the  stream,  than  along.  It  concern- 
eth  likewise  the  health  of  the  plantation  that  they 
have  good  store  of  salt  with  them,  that  they  may 
use  it  in  their  victuals  when  it  shall  be  necessary. 
If  you  plant  where  savages  are,  do  not  only  enter 
tain  them  with  trifles  and  gingles,  but  use  them 
justly  and  graciously,  with  sufficient  guard  never 
theless;  and  do  not  win  their  favour  by  helping 
them  to  invade  their  enemies,  but  for  their  defence  it 
is  not  amiss :  and  send  oft  of  them  over  to  the  coun 
try  that  plants,  that  they  may  see  a  better  condi 
tion  than  their  own,  and  commend  it  when  they  re 
turn.  \Vhen  the  plantation  grows  to  strength s  then 
D2 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


it  is  time  to  plant  with  women  as  well  as  with 
men ;  that  the  plantation  may^  spread  into  genera 
tions,  and  not  he  ever  pieced  from  without.  It  is 
thesinfullest  thing  in  the  world  to  forsake  or  desti 
tute  a  plantation  once  in  forwardness ;  for,  besides 
the  dishonour,  it  is  the  guiltiness  of  blood  of  many 
commiserable  persons. 

XXXIV.     OF  RICHES. 

I  CANNOT  call  riches  better  than  the  baggage 
of  virtue;  the  Roman  word  is  better,  "impedi 
menta;"  for  as  the  baggage  is  to  an  army,  so  is 
riches  to  virtue ;  it  cannot  be  spared  nor  left  be 
hind,  but  it  hindereth  the  march;  yea,  and  the 
care  of  it  sometimes  loseth  or  disturbeth  the  vic 
tory  ;  of  great  riches  there  is  no  real  use,  except 
it  be  in  the  distribution;  the  rest  is  but  conceit; 
so  saith  Solomon,  "  Where  much  is,  there  are 
many  to  consume  it;  and  what  hath  the  owner 
but  the  sight  of  it  with  his  eyes  V  The  personal 
fruition  in  any  man  cannot  reach  to  feel  great 
riches :  there  is  a  custody  of  them ;  or  a  power 
of  dole  and  donative  of  them  ;  or  a  fame  of  them ; 
but  no  solid  use  to  the  owner.  Do  you  not  see 
what  feigned  prices  are  set  upon  little  stones  and 
rarities  ?  and  what  works  of  ostentation  are  un 
dertaken,  because  there  might  seem  to  be  some 
use  of  great  riches'?  But  then  you  will  say, 
they  may  be  of  use  to  buy  men  out  of  dangers  or 
troubles;  as  Solomon  saith,  "Riches  are  as  a 
strong  hold  in  the  imagination  of  the  rich  man;" 
but  this  is  excellently  expressed,  that  it  is  in  im 
agination,  and  not  always  in  fact:  for,  certainly, 
great  riches  have  sold  more  men  than  they  have 
bought  out.  Seek  not  prcaid  riches,  but  such  as 
thou  mayest  get  justly,  use  soberly,  distribute 
cheerfully,  and  leave  contentedly;  yet  have  no 
abstract  or  friarly  contempt  of  them ;  but  distin 
guish,  as  Cicero  saith  well  of  Rabirius  Posthu- 
raus,  "  in  studio  rei  amplificandee  apparebat,  non 
avaritiee  preedam,  sed  instrumentum  bonitati 
quaeri."  Hearken  also  to  Solomon,  and  beware 
of  hasty  gathering  of  riches  ;  "  Qui  festinat  ad 
divitias,  non  erit  insons."  The  poets  feign  that 
when  Plutus  (which  is  riches)  is  sent  from  Jupi 
ter,  he  limps,  and  goes  slowly ;  but  when  he  is 
sent  from  Pluto,  he  runs,  and  is  swift  of  foot ; 
meaning,  that  riches  gotten  by  good  means  and 
just  labour  pace  slowly  ;  but  when  they  come  by 
the  death  of  others  (as  by  the  course  of  inherit 
ance,  testaments,  and  the  like,)  they  come  tumb 
ling  upon  a  man :  but  it  might  be  applied  like 
wise  to  Pluto,  taking  him  for  the  devil:  for 
when  riches  come  from  the  devil,  (as  by  fraud 
arid  oppression,  and  unjust  means,)  they  come 
wpon  speed.  The  ways  to  enrich  are  many,  and 
most  of  them  foul :  parsimony  is  one  of  the  best, 
and  yet  is  not  innocent ;  for  it  withholdeth  men 
from  works  of  liberality  and  charity.  The  im 
provement  of  the  ground  is  the  most  natural  ob 


taining  of  riches  f*ror  it  is  our  great  mother's 
blessing,  the  earth's ;  but  it  is  slow ;  and  yet, 
where  men  of  great  wealth  do  stoop  to  husband 
ry,  it  multiplieth  riches  exceedingly.  I  knew  a 
nobleman  in  England  that  had  the  greatest  audits 
of  any  man  in  my  time,  a  great  grazier,  a  great 
sheep  master,  a  great  timber  man,  a  great  collier, 
a  great  corn  master,  a  great  lead  man,  and  so  of 
iron,  and  a  number  of  the  like  points  of  hus 
bandry  ;  so  as  the  earth  seemed  a  sea  to  him  in 
respect  of  the  perpetual  importation.  It  was  truly 
observed  by  one,  "  That  himself  came  very 
hardly  to  a  little  riches,  and  very  easily  to  great 
riches ;"  for  when  a  man's  stock  is  come  to  that, 
that  he  can  expect  the  prime  of  markets,  and 
overcome  those  bargains,  which  for  their  great 
ness  are  few  men's  money,  and  be  partner  in  the 
industries  of  younger  men,  he  cannot  but  increase 
mainly.  The  gains  of  ordinary  trades  and  voca 
tions  are  honest,  and  furthered  by  two  things, 
chiefly,  by  diligence,  and  by  a  good  name  for 
good  and  fair  dealing;  but  the  gains  of  bargains 
are  of  a  more  doubtful  nature,  when  men  shall 
wait  upon  others'  necessity ;  broke  by  servants 
and  instruments  to  draw  them  on ;  put  off  others 
cunningly  that  would  be  better  chapmen,  and  the 
like  practices,  which  are  crafty  and  naughty ;  as 
for  the  chopping  of  bargains,  when  a  man  buys 
not  to  hold,  but  to  sell  over  again,  that  commonly 
grindeth  double,  both  upon  the  seller  and  upon 
the  buyer.  Sharings  do  greatly  enrich,  if  the 
hands  be  well  chosen  that  are  trusted.  Usury  is 
the  certainest  means  of  gain,  though  one  of  the 
worst,  as  that  whereby  a  man  doth  eat  his  bread, 
"in  sudore  vultus  alieni;"  and  besides,  doth 
plough  upon  Sundays  :  but  yet  certain  though  it 
be,  it  hath  flaws ;  for  that  the  scriveners  and  bro 
kers  do  value  unsound  men  to  serve  their  own 
turn.  The  fortune,  in  being  the  first  in  an  inven 
tion,  or  in  a  privilege,  doth  cause  sometimes  a 
wonderful  overgrowth  in  riches,  as  it  was  with 
the  first  sugar  man  in  the  Canaries  :  therefore,  if 
a  man  can  play  the  true  logician,  to  have  as  well 
judgment  as  invention,  he  may  do  great  matters, 
especially  if  the  times  be  fit :  he  that  resteth  upon 
gains  certain,  shall  hardly  grow  to  great  riches ; 
and  he  that  puts  all  upon  adventures,  doth  often 
times  break  and  come  to  poverty  :  it  is  good,  there 
fore,  to_  guard  adventures  with  certainties  that 
may  uphold  losses.  Monopolies,  and  coemption 
of  wares  for  re-sale,  where  they  are  not  restrained, 
are  great  means  to  enrich ;  especially  if  the  party 
have  intelligence  what  things  are  likely  to  come 
into  request,  and  so  store  himself  beforehand. 
I  Riches  gotten  by  service,  though  it  be  of  the  best 
!  rise,  yet  when  they  are  gotten  by  flattery,  feeding 
humours,  and  other  servile  conditions,  they  may  be 
placed  amongst  the  worst.  As  for  fishing  for  tes- 
;  taments  and  executorships,  (as  Tacitus  saith  of 
|  Seneca,  "  testamenta  et  orbus  tamquam  indagine 
1  capi,")  it  is  yet  worse,  by  how  much  men  submit 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


43 


themselves  to  meaner  persons  than  in  service. 
Believe  not  much,  them,  that  seem  to  despise 
riches,  for  they  despise  them  that  despair  of 
them  ;  and  none  worse  when  they  come  to  them; 
Be  not  penny-wise;  riches  have  wings,  and 
sometimes  they  fly  away  of  themselves,  some 
times  they  must  be  set  flying  to  bring  in  more. 
Men  leave  their  riches  either  to  their  kindred,  or 
to  the  public  ;  and  moderate  portions  prosper  best 
in  both.  A  great  state  left  to  an  heir,  is  as  a  lure 
to  all  the  birds  of  prey  round  about  to  seize  on 
him,  if  he  be  not  the  better  established  in  years 
and  judgment :  likewise,  glorious  gifts  and  foun 
dations  are  like  sacrifices  without  salt ;  and  but 
the  painted  sepulchres  of  alms,  which  soon  will  pu 
trefy  and  corrupt  inwardly  :  therefore  measure  not 
thine  advancements  by  quantity,  but  frame  them 
by  measure  :  and  defer  not. charities  till  death  ; 
for,  certainly,  if  a  man  weigh  it  rightly,  he  that 
doth  so  is  rather  liberal  of  another  man's  than  of 
his  own. 

XXXV.     OF   PROPHECIES. 

T  MEAN  not  to  speak  of  divine  prophecies,  nor 
of  heathen  oracles,  nor  of  natural  predictions  :  but 
only  of  prophecies  that  have  been  of  certain  memo 
ry,  and  from  hidden  causes.  Saith  the  Python- 
issa  to  Saul,  "To-morrow  thou  and  thy  son  shall 
be  with  me."  Virgil  hath  these  verses  from 
Homer: 

"At  domus  JEneiE  cunctis  dominabitur  oris, 
Et  nati  natorum,  et  que  nascentur  ab  illis."* 

A  prophecy  as  it  seems  of  the  Roman  empire. 
Seneca  the  tragedian  hath  these  verses  : 

f- "  Venient  annis 

.»Ss:cula  seris,  quibus  Ocearms 

Vincula  reruin  laxet,  et  ingens 

Pateat  Tellus,  Tiphysque  novos 

Detegat  orbes  ;  nee  sit  terris 

Ultima  Thule  ; 

a  prophecy  of  the  discovery  of  America.  The 
daughter  of  Polycrates  dreamed  that  Jupiter 
bathed  her  father,  and  Apollo  anointed  him ;  and 
it  came  to  pass  that  he  was  crucified  in  an  open 
place,  where  the  sun  made  his  body  run  with 
sweat,  and  the  rain  washed  it.  Philip  of  Mace- 
don  dreamed  he  sealed  up  his  wife's  belly;  where 
by  he  did  expound  it,  that  his  wife  should  be  bar 
ren  ;  but  Aristander  the  soothsayer  told  him  his 
wife  was  with  child,  because  men  do  not  use  to 
seal  vessels  that  are  empty.  A  phantasm  that  ap 
peared  to  M.  Brutus  in  his  tent,  said  to  him, 
"  Philippis  iterum  me  videbis."  Tiberius  said  to 
Galba,  »  Tu  quoque,  Galba,  degustabis  impe- 
rium."  In  Vespasian's  time  there  went  a  prophe 
cy  in  the  East,  that  those  that  should  come  forth 
out  of  Judea,  should  reign  over  the  world  ;  which 
though  it  may  be  was  meant  of  our  Saviour,  yet 
Tacitus  expounds  it  of  Vespasian.  Domitian 

*  Homeri  Ilias,  Y.  307-308. 

Niiv  Si  Si]  Aiveiao  /?(>?  Tpuisffffiv  dva%£t, 
Kai  irulSes  ratJwi',  rot  KCV  ^erdrria-Se  yivwvrai. 
These  noble  lines  are  there  uttered  j)y  Neptune,  but  are 
happily  transferred  by  Virgil  to  Apollo* 


dreamed  the  night  before  he  was  slain,  that  a 
golden  head  was  growing  out  of  the  nape  of  his 
neck ;  and  indeed  the  succession  that  followed 
him,  for  many  years,  made  golden  times.  Henry 
the  Sixth  of  England  said  of  Henry  the  Seventh, 
when  he  was  a  lad,  and  gave  him  water,  "  This 
is  the  lad  that  shall  enjoy  the  crown  for  which  we 
strive."  When  I  was  in  France,  I  heard  from  one 
Dr.  Pena,  that  the  queen  mother,  who  was  given 
to  curious  arts,  caused  the  king  her  husband's  nati 
vity  to  be  calculated  under  a  false  name ;  and  the  as 
trologer  gave  a  judgment,  that  he  should  be  killed 
in  a  duel;  at  which  the  queen  laughed,  thinking 
her  husband  to  be  above  challenges  and  duels:  but 
he  was  slain  upon  a  course  at  tilt,  the  splinters  of 
the  staff  of  Montgomery  going  in  at  his  beaver. 
The  trivial  prophecy  which  I  heard  when  I  was  a 
child,  and  Queen  Elizabeth  was  in  the  flower  of 
her  years,  was, 

"  When  hempe  is  sponne 
England's  done  :" 

whereby  it  was  generally  conceived,  that  after  the 
princes  had  reigned  which  had  the  principal  letters 
of  that  word  hempe  (which  were  Henry,  Edward, 
Mary,  Philip,  and  Elizabeth,)  England  should 
come  to  utter  confusion  ;  which,  thanks  be  to  God, 
is  verified  only  in  the  change  of  the  name ;  for  that 
the  king's  style  is  now  no  more  of  England  but 
df  Britain.  There  was  also  another  prophecy  be 
fore  the  year  of  eighty-eight,  which  I  do  not  well 
understand. 

"There  shall  be  seen  upon  a  day, 
Between  the  Bauph  and  the  May, 
The  black  fleet  of  Norway. 
When  that  is  come  and  gone, 
England  build  houses  of  lime  and  stone, 
For  after  wars  shall  you  have  none." 

It  was  generally  conceived  to  be  meant  of  the 
Spanish  fleet  that  came  in  eighty-eight :  for  that 
the  kjng  of  Spain's  surname,  as  they  say,  is  Nor 
way.  The  prediction  of  Regiomontanus, 
"  Octogesimus  octavus  mirabilis  annus," 
was  thought  likewise  accomplished  in  the  send 
ing  of  that  great  fleet,  being  the  greatest  in 
strength,  though,  not  in  number,  of  all  that  ever 
swam  upon  the  sea.  As  for  Cleon's  dream,  I 
think  it  was  a  jest;  it  was,  that  he  was  devoured 
of  a  long  dragon ;  and  it  was  expounded  of  a 
maker  of  sausages,  that  troubled  him  exceedingly. 
There  are  numbers  of  the  like  kind  ;  especially  if 
you  include  dreams,  and  predictions  of  astrology ; 
but  I  have  set  down  these  few  only  of  certain 
credit,  for  example.  My  judgment  is,  that  they 
ought  all  to  be  despised,  and  ought  to  serve  but 
for  winter  talk  by  the  fireside  :  though  when  I  say 
despised,  I  mean  it  as  for  belief:  for  otherwise, 
the  spreading  or  publishing  of  them  is  in  no  sort 
to  be  despised,  for  they  have  done  much  mischief: 
and  I  see  many  severe  laws  made  to  suppress 
them.  That  that  hath  given  them  grace,  and 
some  credit,  consisteth  in  three  things.  First,  that 
men  mark  when  they  hit,  and  never  mark  when 
they  miss  ;  as  they  do,  generally,  also  of  dreams. 


44 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


The  second  is,  that  probable  conjectures,  or  ob 
scure  traditions,  many  times  turn  themselves  into 
prophecies  ;  while  the  nature  of  man,  which  covet- 
eth  divination,  thinks  it  no  peril  to  foretell  that 
which  indeed  they  do  but  collect ;  as  that  of  Se 
neca's  verse ;  for  so  much  was  then  subject  to 
demonstration,  that  the  globe  of  the  earth  had 
great  parts  beyond  the  Atlantic,  which  might  be 
probably  conceived  not  to  be  all  sea  :  and  adding 
thereto  the  tradition  in  Plato's  Timaeus,  and  his 
Atlanticus,  it  might  encourage  one  to  turn  it  to  a 
prediction.  The  third  and  last  (which  is  the  great 
one)  is,  that  almost  all  of  them,  being  infinite  in 
number,  have  been  impostures,  and  by  idle  and 
crafty  brains  merely  contrived  and  feigned  after 
the  event  past. 

XXXVI.     OF  AMBITION. 

AMBITION  is  like  choler,  which  is  an  humour  that 
rnaketh  men  active,  earnest,  full  of  alacrity,  and 
stirring,  if  it  be  not  stopped  :  but  if  it  be  stopped, 
and  cannot  have  its  way,  it  becometh  a  dust,  and 
thereby  malign  and  venomous  :  so  ambitious  men, 
if  they  find  the  way  open  for  their  rising,  and  still 
get  forward,  they  are  rather  busy  than  dangerous ; 
but  if  they  be  checked  in  their  desires,  they  become 
secretly  discontent,  and  look  upon  men  and  mat 
ters  with  an  evil  eye,  and  are  best  pleased  when 
things  go  backward  ;  which  is  the  worst  property 
in  a  servant  of  a  prince  or  state :  therefore  it  is  good 
for  princes,  if  they  use  ambitious  men,  to  handle 
it  so,  as  they  be  still  progressive,  and  not  retro 
grade,  which,  because  it  cannot  be  without  incon 
venience,  it  is  good  not  to  use  such  natures  atall : 
for  if  they  rise  not  with  their  service,  they  will  take 
order  to  make  their  service  foil  with  them.  But 
since  we  have  said,  it  were  good  not  to  use^men 
of  ambitious  natures,  except  it  be  upon  necessity, 
it  is  fit  we  speak  in  what  cases  they  are  of  neces 
sity.  Good  commanders  in  the  wars  must  be  taken, 
be  they  never  so  ambitious ;  for  the  use  of  their 
service  dispenseth  with  the  rest;  and  to  take  a 
soldier  without  ambition,  is  to  pull  off  his  spurs. 
There  is  also  great  use  of  ambitious  men  in  be 
ing  screens  to  princes  in  matters  of  danger  and 
envy ;  for  no  man  will  take  that  part  except  he  be 
like  a  seeled  dove,  that  mounts  and  mounts,  be 
cause  he  cannot  see  about  him.  There  is  use  also 
of  ambitious  men  in  pulling  down  the  greatness 
of  any  subject  that  overtops ;  as  Tiberius  used 
Macro  in  the  pulling  down  of  Sejanus.  Since, 
therefore,  they  must  be  used  in  such  cases,  there 
resteth  to  speak  how  they  are  to  be  bridled,  that 
they  may  be  less  dangerous  ;  there  is  less  danger 
of  them  if  they  be  of  mean  birth,  than  if  they  be 
noble;  and  if  they  be  rather  harsh  of  nature,  than 
gracious  and  popular  :  and  if  they  be  rather  new 
raised,  than  grown  cunning  and  fortified  in  their 
greatness.  It  is  counted  by  some  a  weakness  in 
princes  to  have  favourites ;  but  it  is,  of  all  others, 


the  best  remedy  against  ambitious  great  ones :  for 
when  the  way  of  pleasuring  and  displeasuring 
lieth  by  the  favourite,  it  is  impossible  any  other 
should  be  over  great.  Another  means  to  curb 
them  is,  to  balance  them  by  others  as  proud  as 
they  :  but  then  there  must  be  some  middle  coun 
sellors,  to  keep  things  steady;  for  without  that 
ballast  the  ship  will  roll  too  much.  At  the  least, 
a  prince  may  animate  and  inure  some  meaner  per 
sons  to  be,  as  it  were,  scourges  to  ambitious  men. 
As  for  the  having  of  them  obnoxious  to  ruin,  if 
they  be  of  fearful  natures,  it  may  do  well ;  but 
if  they  be  stout  and  daring,  it  may  prfecipitate  their 
designs,  and  prove  dangerous.  As  for  the  pulling 
of  them  down,  if  the  affairs  require  it,  and  that  it 
may  not  be  done  with  safety  suddenly,  the  only 
way,  is  the  interchange  continually  of  favours  and 
disgraces,  whereby  they  may  not  know" what  to 
expect,  and  be,  as  it  were,  in  a  wood.  Of  am 
bitions,  it  is  less  harmful  the  ambition  to  prevail 
to  great  things,  than  that  other  to  appear  in  every 
tiling ;  for  that  breeds  confusion,  and  mars  busi 
ness  ;  but  yet.  it  is  less  danger  to  have  an  ambi 
tious  man  stirring  in  business,  than  great  in  de 
pendences.  He  that  seeketh  to  be  eminent 
amongst  able  men,  hath  a  great  task ;  but  that  is 
ever  good  for  the  public  :  but  he  that  plots  to  be 
the  only  figure  amongst  ciphers,  is  the  decay  of  a 
whole  age.  Honour  hath'  three  things  in  it ;  the 
vantage  ground  to  do  good ;  the  approach  to  kings 
and  principal  persons;  and  the  raising  of  a  man's 
own  fortunes.  He  that  hath  the  best  of  these  in 
tentions,  when  he  aspireth,  is  an  honest  man;  and 
that  prince  that  can  discern  of  these  intentions  in 
another  that  aspireth,  is  a  wise  prince.  Generally, 
let  princes  and  states  choose  such  ministers  as  are 
more  sensible  of  duty  than  of  rising,  and  sucfi  as 
love  business  rather  upon  conscience  than  upon 
bravery  ;  and  let  them  discern  a  busy  nature,  from 
a  willing  mind. 

XXXVII.  OF  MASQUES  AND  TRIUMPHS. 

THESE  things  are  buttoys  to  come  amongst  such 
serious  observations ;  but  yet,  since  princes  will 
have  such  things,  it  is  better  they  should  be  graced 
with  elegancy,  than  daubed  with  cost.  Dancing 
to  song,  is  a  thing  of  great  state  and  pleasure.  I 
understand  it  that  the  song  be  in  quire,  placed 
aloft,  and  accompanied  by  some  broken  music ; 
and  the  ditty  fitted  to  the  device.  Acting  in  song, 
especially  in  dialogues,  hath  an  extreme  good 
grace ;  I  say  acting,  not  dancing,  (for  that  is  a 
mean  and  vulgar  thing  ;)  and  the  voices  of  the  dia 
logue  would  be  strong  and  manly,  (a  base  aftd  a 
tenor,  no  treble,)  and  the  ditty  high  and  tragical, 
not  nice  or  dainty.  Several  quires  placed  one 
over  against  another,  and  taking  the  voice  by 
catches  anthem-wise,  give  great  pleasure.  Turn 
ing  dances  into  figure  is  a  childish  curiosity  ;  and 
generally  let  it  be  noted,  that  those  things  which 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


45 


I  here  set  down  are  such  as  do  naturally  take  the 
sense,  and  not  respect  petty  wonderments.  It  is 
true,  the  alterations  of  scenes,  so  it  be  quietly  and 
without,  noise,  are  things  of  great  beauty  and  plea 
sure  ;  for  they  feed  and  relieve  the  eye  before  it  be 
full  of  the  same  object.  Let  the  scenes  abound  with 
light,  especially  coloured  and  varied;  and  let  the 
masquers,  or  any  other  that  are  to  come  down  from 
the  scene,  have  some  motions  upon  the  scene  it 
self  before  their  coming  down  ;  for  it  draws  the 
eye  strangely,  and  makes  it  with  great  pleasure 
to  desire  to  see  that  it  cannot  perfectly  discern. 
Let  the  songs  be  loud  and  cheerful,  and  not  chirp 
ings  or  pulings  :  let  the  music  likewise  be  sharp 
and  loud,  and  well  placed.  The.  colours  that 
show  best  by  candle-light,  are  white,  carnation, 
and  a  kind  of  sea-water  green  and  ouches,  or 
spangs,  as  they  are  of  no  great  cost,  so  they  are 
of  most  glory.  As  for  rich  embroidery,  it  is  lost 
and  not  discerned.  Let  the  suits  of  the  masquers 
be  graceful,  and  such  as  become  the  person  when 
the  vizards  are  off ;  not  after  examples  of  known 
attires  ;  Turks,  soldiers,  mariners,  and  the  like. 
Let  anti-masques  not  be  long;  they  have  been 
commonly  of  fools,  satyrs,  baboons,  wild  men, 
antics,  beasts,  spirits,  witches,  Ethiopes.  pigmies, 
turquets,  nymphs,  rustics,  Cupids,  statues  moving, 
and  the  like.  As  for  angels,  it  is  not  comical 
enough  to  put  them  in  anti-masques ;  and  any 
thing  that  is  hideous,  as  devils,  giants,  is,  on  the 
other  side  a^  unfit ;  but  chiefly,  let  the  music  of 
them  be  recreative,  and  with  some  strange  changes. 
Some  sweet  odours  suddenly  coming  forth,  with 
out  any  drops  falling,  are,  t  in  such  a  company  as 
there  is  steam  and  heat,  things  of  great  pleasure 
and  refreshment.  Double  masques,  one  of  men, 
another  of  ladies,  addeth  state  and  variety  ;  but 
all  is  nothing  except  the  room  be  kept  clean  and 
neat. 

For  jousts,  and  tourneys,  and  barriers,  the  glories 
of  them  are  chiefly  in  the  chariots,  wherein  the 
challengers  make  their  entry  ;  especially  if  they 
be  drawn  with  strange  beasts ;  as  lions,  bears, 
camels,  and  the  like  ;  or  in  the  ^devices  of  their 
entrance,  or  in  bravery  of  their  liveries,  or  in  the 
goodly  furniture  of  their  horses  and  armour.  But 
enough  of  these  toys. 

'3 

XXXVIII.     OF  NATURE  IN  MEN. 

NATURE  is  often  hidden,  sometimes  overcome, 
seldom  extinguished.  Force  maketh  nature  more 
violent  in  the  return;  doctrine  and  discourse 
nature  less  importune  ;  but  custom,  only, 
and  subdue  nature.  He  that  seeketh 
rer  his  nature,  let  him  not  set  himself 
nor  too  small  tasks ;  for  the  first  will 
dejected  by  often  failing,  and  the 
second  will  make  him  a  small  proceeder,  though 
by  often  prevailing  :  and  at  the  first,  let  him  prac 
tise  w'th  helps,  as  swimmers  do  with  bladders 


or  rushes  ;  but,  after  a  time  let  him  practise  with 
disadvantages,  as  dancers  do  with  thick  shoes; 
for  it  breeds  great  perfection,  if  the  practise  be 
harder  than  the  use.  Where  nature  is  mighty, 
and  therefore  the  victory  hard,  the  degrees  had 
need  be,  first  to  stay  and  arrest  nature  in  time; 
like  to  him  that  would  say  over  the  four  and 
twenty  letters  when  he  was  angry  ;  then  to  go 
less  in  quantity;  as  if  one  should,  in  forbearing 
wine,  come  from  drinking  healths  to  a  draught  at 
a  meal;  and  lastly,  to  discontinue  altogether  :  but 
if  a  man  have  the  fortitude  and  resolution  to  en 
franchise  himself  at  once,  that  is  the  best : 

"  Optimus  ille  animi  vindex  Iredentia  pectus 
Vincula  qui  rupit,  dedoluitque  semel." 

Neither  is  the  ancient  rule  amiss,  to  bend  nature 
as  a  wand  to  a  contrary  extreme,  whereby  to  set  it 
right ;  understanding  it  where  the  contrary  extreme 
is  no  vice.  Let  not  a  man  force  a  habit  upon  him 
self  with  a  perpetual  continuance,  but  with  some 
intermission  :  for  both  the  pause  reinforceth  the 
new  onset;  and,  if  a  man  that  is  not  perfect  be 
ever  in  practice  he  shall  as  well  practise  his  errors 
as  his  abilities,  and  induce  one  habit  of  both ;  and 
there  is  no  means  to  help  this  but  by  seasonable 
intermission  ;  but  let  not  a  man  trust  his  victory 
over  his  nature  too  far ;  for  nature  will  lie  buried  a 
great  time,  and  yet  revive  upon  the  occasion,  or 
temptation;  like  as  it  was  with  JEsop's  damsel, 
turned  from  a  cat  to  a  woman,  who  sat  very  de 
murely,  at  the  board's  end  till  a  mouse  ran  before 
her ;  therefore,  let  a  man  either  avoid  the  occa 
sion  altogether,  or  put  himself  often  to  it,  that  he 
may  be  little  moved  with  it.  A  man's  nature  is 
best  perceived  in  privateness,  for  there  is  no  affec 
tation  ;  in  passion,  for  that  putteth  a  man  out  of  his 
precepts ;  and  in  a  new  case  or  experiment,  for  there 
custom  leaveth  him.  They  are  happy  men  whose 
natures  sort  with  their  vocations ;  otherwise  they 
may  say,  "  multum  incola  fuit  anima  mea,"  when 
they  converse  in  those  things  they  do  not  affect. 
In  studies,  whatsoever  a  man  commandeth  upon 
himself,  let  him  set  hours  for  it ;  but  whatsoever 
is  agreeable  to  his  nature,  let  him  take  no  care  for 
any  set  times  ;  for  his  thoughts  will  fly  to  it  of 
themselves,  so  as  the  spaces  of  other  business  or 
Studies  will  suffice.  A  man's  nature  runs  either 
to  herbs  or  weeds ;  therefore  let  him  seasonably 
water  the  one,  and  destroy  the  other. 

XXXIX.    OF  CUSTOM  AND  EDUCATION, 

MEN'S  thoughts  are  much  according  to  their  in 
clination  ;  their  discourse  and  s'peeches  according 
Uttheir  learning  and  infilled'  opinions  ;  but  their 
deeds  are  after  as  they  have  been  accustomed :  and, 
therefore,  as  Machiavel  well  noteth,  (though  in 
an  evil-favoured  instance,)  there  is  no  trusting  to 
the  force  of  nature,  nor  to  the  bravery  of  words,  ex 
cept  it  be  corroborate  by  custo%m.  His  instance  is, 
that  for  the  achieving  of  a  desperate  conspiracy,  a 


46 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


man  should  not  rest  upon  the  fierceness  of  any 
man's  nature,  or  his  resolute  undertakings  ;  but 
take  such  an  one  as  hath  had  his  hands  formerly 
in  blood;  but  Machiavel  knew  not  of  a  Friar  Cle 
ment,  nor  a  Ravillac,  nor  a  Jaureguy,  nor  a  Bal- 
tazar  Gerard  ;  yet  this  rule  holdeth  still,  that  na 
ture,  nor  the  engagement  of  words,  are  not  so  for 
cible  as  custom.  Only  superstition  is  now  so 
well  advanced,  that  men  of  the  first  blood  are  as 
firm  as  butchers  by  occupation  ;  and  votary  reso 
lution  is  made  equipollent  to  custom  even  in  matter 
of  blood.  In  other  things,  the  predominancy  of 
custom  is  everywhere  visible,  insomuch  as  a  man 
would  wonder  to  hear  men  profess,  protest,  en 
gage,  give  great  words,  and  then  do  just  as  they 
have  done  before,  as  if  they  were  dead  images 
and  engines,  moved  only  by  the  wheels  of  custom. 
We  see  also  the  reign  or  tyranny  of  custom,  what 
it  is.  The  Indians  (I  mean  the  sect  of  their  wise 
men)  lay  themselves  quietly  upon  a  stack  of 
wood,  and  so  sacrifice  themselves  by  fire  :  nay,  the 
wives  strive  to  be  burned  with  the  corpse  of  their 
husbands.  The  ladfy>f,  gparta,  of  ancient  time, 
were  wont  to  be  scourged  upon  the  altar  of  Diana, 
without  so  much  as  squeaking.  I  remember,  in 
the  beginning  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  time  of  Eng 
land,  an  Irish  rebel  condemned,  put  up  a  petition 
to  the  deputy  that  he  might  be  hanged  in  a  wyth, 
and  not  in  a  halter,  because  it  had  been  so  used 
with  former  rebels.  There  be  monks  in  Russia, 
for  penance,  that  will  sit  a  whole  night  in  a  ves 
sel  of  water,  till  they  be  engaged  with  hard  ice. 
Many  examples  may  be  put  of  the  force  of  custom, 
both  upon  mind  and  body  :  therefore,  since  custom 

IS  the  principal  mpcrktratP  cJ  Tnrjn'     Tjf      le 


by  all  means  endeavour  to  obtain  good  customs^ 
C  ertaaily,  uislum  iy  Ili6st  ptTftfet  when  it  begin- 
neth  in  young  years  :  this  we  call  education, 
which  is,  in  effect,  but  an  early  custom.  So  we 
see,  in  languages  the  tongue  is  more  pliant  to  all 
expressions  and  sound's,  the  joints  are  more  sup 
ple  to  all  feats  of  activity  and  motions  in  youth. 
than  afterwards  ;  for,  it  is  true,  that  l-ate  learners 

,,        ,     cuhQ^A  f    <X>  o  fl-t<t 

cannot  so  well  take  the  ply,  except  it  be  in  some 
minds  that  have  not  suffered  themselves  to  fix, 
but  have  kept  themselves  open  and  prepared  to  re 
ceive  continual  amendment,  which  is  exceeding 
rare:  but  if  the  force  of  custom,  simple  and  sepa 
rate,  be^J^eat,  the  force  of  custom,  copulate  and 
conjoinedand  collegiate,  is  far  greater  ;  for  their 
example  teacheth,  company  comforteth,  emulation 
quickeneth,  glory  raiseth  ;  so  as  in  such  places 
the  force  of  custom  is  in  its  exaltation.  Certain 
ly,  the  great  multiplication  of  virtues  upon  human 
nature  resteth  upon  societies  well  ordained  and 
disciplined  ;  for  commonwealths  and  good  govern 
ments  do  nourish  virtue  grown,  but  do  not  much 
mend  the  seeds  :  but  the  misery  is,  that  the  most 
effectual  means  are  now  applied  to  the  ends  least 
to  be  desired, 


XL.     OF  FORTUNE. 

IT  cannot  be  denied  but  outward  accidents  con 
duce  much  to  fortune  ;  favour,  opportunity,  death 
of  others,  occasion  fitting  virtue  :  but  chiefly,  the 
mould  of  a  man's  fortune  is  in  his  own  hands. 
»  Faber  quisque  fortunes  suse, "  saith  the  poet ; 
and  the  most  frequent  of  external  causes  is,  that 
the  folly  of  one  man  is  the  fortune  of  another ;  for 
no  man  prospers  so  suddenly  as  by  others'  errors ; 
"  Serpens  nisi  serpentem  comederit  non  fit  draco." 
Overt  and  apparent  virtues  bring  forth  praise  ; 
but  there  be  secret  and  hidden  virtues  that  bring 
forth  fortune ;  certain  deliveries  of  a  man's  self, 
which  have  no  name.  The  Spanish  name  "  dis- 
emboltura"  partly  expresseth  them,  when  there 
be  not  stonds  nor  restiveness  in  a  man's  nature, 
but  that  the  wheels  of  his  mind  keep  way  with 
the  wheels  of  his  fortune  ;  for  so  Livy  (after  he 
had  described  Cato  Major  in  these  words,  "In 
illo  viro,  tantum  robur  corporis  et  animi  fuit,  ut 
quocunque  loco  natus  esset,  fortunam  sibi  facturus 
videretur,")  falleth  upon  that  that  he  had  "  versatile 
ingenium  :"  therefore,  if  a  man  look  sharply  and 
attentively,  he  shall  see  Fortune ;  for  though  she 
be  blind,  yet  she  is  not  invisible.  The  way  of 
fortune  is  like  the  milky  way  in. the  sky:  which 
is  a  meeting,  or  knot,  of  a  number  of  small  stars. 
not  seen  asunder,  but  giving  light  together :  so 
are  there  a  number  of  little  and  scarce  discerned 
virtues,  or  rather  faculties  and  customs,  that  make 
men  fortunate :  the  Italians  note  some  of  them, 
such  as  a  wise  man  would  little  think.  When  they 
speak  of  one  that  cannot  do  amiss,  they  will  throw 
into  his  other  conditions,  that  he  hath  "  Poco  di 
matto  ;"  and,  certainly,  there  be  not  two  more  for 
tunate  properties,  than  to  have  a  little  of  the  fool, 
and  not  too  much  of  the  honest :  therefore  extreme 
lovers  of  their  country,  or  masters,  were  never 
fortunate  :  neither  can  they  be  ;  for  when  a  man 
placeth  his  thoughts  without  himself,  he  goeth 
not  his  own  way.  An  hasty  fortune  maketh  an 
enterpriser  and  remover;  (the  French  hath  it 
better,  "  entreprenant,"  or  "  remuant;")  but  the 
exercised  fortune  maketh  the  able  man.  Fortune 
is  to  be  honoured  and  respected,  and  it  be  but  for 
her  daughters,  Confidence  and  Reputation ;  for 
those  two  Felicity  breedeth ;  the  first  within  a 
man's  self,  the  latter  in  others  towards  him.  All 
wise  men,  to  decline  the  envy  of  their  own  virtues, 
use  to  ascribe  them  to  Providence  and  Fortune  ; 
for  so  they  may  the  better  assume  them  ;  and,  be 
sides,  it  is  greatness  in  a  man  to  be  the  care  of  the 
higher  powers.  So  Caesar  said  to  the  pilot  j 
tempest,  "  Caesarem  portas,  et  fortunam  ej, 
Sylla  chose  the  name  of  "Felix,"  and) 
"  Magnus :"  and  it  hath  been  noted,  thai 
who  ascribe  openly  too  much  to  their  own  wis? 
and  policy,  end  unfortunate.  It  is  written,  that 
Timotheus,  the  Athenian,  after  he  had,  in  the  ac- 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


count  he  gave  to  the  state  of  his  government,  ofter 
interlaced  this  speech,  "  and  in  this  fortune  had  no 
part,"  never  prospered  in  any  thing  he  undertook 
afterwards.  Certainly  there  be,  whose  fortunes 
are  like  Homer's  verses,  that  have  a  slide  and 
easiness  more  than  the  verses  of  other  poets  ;  as 
Plutarch  saith  of  Timoleon's  fortune  in  respect 
of  that  of  Agesilaus  or  Epaminondas  :  and  that 
this  should  be,  no  doubt  it  is  much  in  a  man's 
self. 


XLI.     OF  USURY. 

MANY  have  made  witty  invectives  against 
asury.  They  say  that  it  is  pity  the  devil  should 
have  God's  parV  which  is  the  tithe;  that  the 
usurer  is  the  greatest  Sabbath-breaker,  because 
his  plough  goeth  every  Sunday ;  that  the  usurer 
is  the  drone  that  Virgil  speaketh  of : 

"Ignavum  fiicos  pecus  a  prsesepibus  arcent 
that  the  usurer  breaketh  the  first  law  that  was 
made  for  mankind  after  the  fall,  which  was  "  in 
sudore  vultus  tui  comedes  panem  tuum;"  not  "in 
sudore  vultus  alieni;"  that  usurers  should  have 
orange  tawny  bonnets,  because  they  do  judaize  ; 
that  it  is  against  nature  for  money  to  beget  money, 
and  the  like.  I  say  this  only,  that  usury  is 
"concessum  propter  duritiem  cordis  :"  for  since 
there  must  be  borrowing  and  lending,  and  men 
are  so  hard  of  heart  as  they  will  not  lend  freely, 
usury  must  be  permitted.  Some  others  have  made 
suspicious  and  cunning  propositions  of  banks, 
discovery  of  men's  estates,  and  other  inventions  ; 
but  few  have  spoken  of  usury  usefully.  It  is 
good  to  set  before  us  the  incommodities  and  com 
modities  of  usury,  that  the  good  may  be  either 
weighed  out,  or  culled  out;  and  warily  to  provide, 
that,  while  we  make  forth  to  that  which  is  better, 
we  meet  not  with  that  which  is  worse. 

The  discommodities  of  usury  are,  first,  that  it 
makes  fewer  merchants ;  for  were  it  not  for  this 
lazy  trade  of  usury,  money  would  not  lie  still,  but 
would  in  a  great  part  be  employed  upon  merchan 
dising,  which  is  the  "  vena  porta"  of  wealth  in  a 
state  :  the  second,  that  it  makes  poor  merchants  ; 
for  as  a  farmer  cannot  husband  his  ground  so  well 
if  he  sit  at  a  great  rent,  so  the  merchant  cannot 
drive  his  trade  so  well,  if  he  sit  at  great  usury: 
the  tbird  is  incident  to  the  other  two  ;  and  that  is, 
the  decay  of  customs  of  kings,  or  estates,  which 
ebb  or  flow  with  merchandising:  the  fourth,  that 
it  bringeth  the  treasure  of  a  realm  or  state  into  a 
few  hands  ;  for  the  usurer  being  at  certainties, 
and  .others  at  uncertainties,  at  the  end  of  the 
game  rn^st  of  the  money  will  be  in  the  box; 
•jand  ever  &  state  flourisheth  when  wealth  is  more 
equally  spread  ;  the  fifth,  that  it  beats  down  the 
price  of  land  ;  for  the  employment  of  money  is 
chiefly  either  merchandising,  or  purchasing,  and 
usury  waylays  both  :  the  sixth,  that  it  doth  dull 


inventions,  wherein  money  would  be  stirring,  if 
it  were  not  for  this  slug :  the  last,  that  it  is  the 
canker  and  ruin  of  many  men's  estates,  which  in 
process  of  time  breeds  a  public  poverty. 

On  the  other  side,  the  commodities  of  usury  are, 
first,  that  howsoever  usury  in  some  respect  hin- 
dereth  merchandising,  yet  in  some  other  it  ad- 
vanceth  it ;  for  it  is  certain  that  the  greatest  part  of 
the  trade  is  driven  by  young  merchants  upon  bor 
rowing  at  interest ;  so  as  if  the  usurer  either  call 
in,  or  keep  back  his  money,  there  will  ensue  pre 
sently  a  great  stand  of  trade :  the  second  is,  that, 
were  it  not  for  this  easy  borrowing  upon  interest, 
men's  necessities  would  draw  upon  them  a  most 
sudden  undoing,  in  that  they  would  be  forced  to  sell 
their  means  (be  it  lands  or  goods)  far  under  foot, 
and  so,  whereas  usury  doth  but  gnaw  upon  them, 
bad  markets  would  swallow  them  quite  up.  As  for 
mortgaging  or  pawning,  it  will  little  mend  the 
matter  :  for  either  men  will  not  take  pawns  with 
out  use,  or  if  they  do,  they  will  look  precisely  for 
the  forfeiture.  I  remember  a  cruel  moneyed  man 
in  the  country,  that  would  say,  "The  devil  take 
this  usury,  it  keeps  us  from  forfeitures  of  mort 
gages  and  bonds."  The  third  and  last  is,  that  it 
is  a  vanity  to  conceive  that  there  would  be  ordi 
nary  borrowing  without  profit;  and  it  is  impossi 
ble  to  conceive  the  number  of  inconveniences  that 
will  ensue,  if  borrowing  be  cramped  :  therefore  to 
speak  of  the  abolishing  of  usury  is  idle ;  all  states 
have  ever  had  it  in  one  kind  or  rate  or  other :  so 
as  that  opinion  must  be  sent  to  Utopia. 

To  speak  now  of  the  reformation  and  reglement 
of  usury,  how  the  discommodities  of  it  may  be 
best  avoided,  and  the  commodities  retained.  It 
appears,  by  the  balance  of  commodities  and  dis 
commodities  of  usury,  two  things  are  to  be  recon 
ciled  ;  the  one  that  the  tooth  of  usury  be  grinded, 
that  it  bite  not  too  much  ;  the  other  that  there  be 
left  open  a  means  to  invite  moneyed  men  to  lend 
o  the  merchants,  for  the  continuing  and  quicken 
ing  of  trade.  This  cannot  be  done,  except  you 
ntroduce  two  several  sorts  of  usury,  a  less  and  a 
greater  ;  for  if  you  reduce  usury  to  one  low  rate, 
rt*Avill  ease  the  common  borrower,  but  the  mer- 
hant  will  be  to  seek  for  money :  and  it  is  to  be 
noted,  that  the  trade  of  merchandise  being  the 
most  lucrative,  may  bear  usury  at  a  good  rate  : 
other  contracts  not  so. 

To  serve  both  intentions,  the  way  would  be 

briefly  thus  ;  that  there  be  two  rates  of  usury  ;  the 

one  free  and  general  for  all ;  the  other  under  li- 

ense  only  to  certain  persons,  and  in  certain  places 

f  merchandising.     First,  therefore,  let  usury  in 

general  be  reduced  to  five  in  the  hundred,  and  let 

hat  rate  be  proclaimed  to  be  free  and  current; 

md  let  the  state  shut  itself  out  to  take  any  penalty 

or  the  same  ;  this  will  preserve  borrowing  from 

my  general  stop  or  dryness;  this  will  ease  infinite 

orrowers,  in  the  country;  this  will,  in  good  part, 


and  damp  all  industries,  improvements,  and  neAV     aise  the  price  of  land,  because  land  purchased  at 


48 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


sixteen  years'  purchase  will  yield  six  in  the  hun 
dred,  and  somewhat  more,  whereas  this  rate  of  in 
terest  yields  but  five  :  this  by  like  reason  will 
encourage  and  edge  industrious  and  profitable  im 
provements,  because  many  will  rather  venture  in 
that  kind,  than  take  five  in  the  hundred,  especially 
having  been  used  to  greater  profit.  Secondly,  let 
there  be  certain  persons  licensed  to  lend  to  known 
merchants  upon  usury,  at  a  high  rate,  and  let  it  be 
with  the  cautions  following  :  let  the  rate  be  even 
with  the  merchant  himself,  somewhat  more  easy 
than  that  he  used  formerly  to  pay;  for  by  that  means 
all  borrowers  shall  have  some  ease  by  this  refor 
mation,  be  he  merchant,  or  whosoever  ;  let  it  be 
no  bank,  or  common  stock,  but  every  man  be  mas 
ter  of  his  own  money  ;  not  that  I  altogether  dislike 
banks,  but  they  will  hardly  be  brooked,  in  regard 
of  certain  suspicions.  Let  the  state  be  answered 
some  small  matter  for  the  license,  and  the  rest  left  to 
the  lender;  for  if  the  abatement  be  but  small,  it 
will  no  whit  discourage  the  lender  ;  for  he,  for  ex 
ample,  that  took  before,  tenor  nine  in  the  hundred, 
will  sooner  descend  to  eight  in  the  hundred  than 
give  over  his  trade  of  usury,  and  go  from  certain 
gains  to  gains  of  hazard.  Let  these  licensed  lend 
ers  be  in  number  indefinite,  but  restrained  to  cer 
tain  principal  cities  and  towns  of  merchandising; 
for  then  they  will  be  hardly  able  to  colour  other 
men's  moneys  in  the  country;  so  as  the  license 
of  nine  will  not  suck  away  the  current  rate  of  five  ; 
for  no  man  will  lend  his  moneys  far  off,  nor  put 
them  into  unknown  hands. 

If  it  be  objected  that  this  doth  in  a  sort  author 
ize  usury,  which  before  was  in  some  places  but  per 
missive  ;  the  answer  is,  that  it  is  better  to  mitigate 
usury  by  declaration  than  to  suffer  it  to  rage  by 
connivance. 


XLII.     OF  YOUTH  AND  AGE. 

A  MAN  that  is  young  in  years  may  be  old  in 
hours,  if  he  have  lost  no  time ;  but  that  happenetb 
rarely.  Generally,  youth  is  like  the  first  cogitar 
tions,  not  so  wise  as  the  second:  for  there  is  a 
jrouth  in  thoughts  as  well  as  in  ages  ;  and  yet  the 
invention  of  young  men  is  more  lively  than  that 
of  old,  and  imaginations  stream  into  their  minds 
better,  and,  as  it  were,  more  divinely.  Natures 
that  have  much  heat,  and  great  and  violent  desires 
and  perturbations,  are  not  ripe  for  action  till  they 
have  passed  the  meridian  of  their  years  :  as  it  was 
with  Julius  Caesar  and  Septimius  Severus;  of  the 
latter  of  whom  it  is  said,  "juventutem  egit,  error- 
ibus,  imo  furoribus  plenam  ;"  and  yet  he  was  the 
ablest  emperor,  almost,  of  all  the  list :  but  reposed 
natures  may  do  well  in  youth,  as  it  is  seen  in  Au 
gustus  Caesar,  Cosmus  Duke  of  Florence,  Gaston 
de  Foix,  and  others.  On  the  other  side,  heat  and 
vivacity  in  age  is  an  excellent  composition  for 
business.  Young  men  are  fitter  to  invent,  than  to 
judge ;  fitter  for  execution  than  for  counsel ;  and 


fitter  for  new  projects  than  for  settled  business ;  foi 
the  experience  of  age,  in  things  that  fall  within  the 
compass  of  it,  directeth  them  :  but  in  new  things 
abuseth  them.  The  errors  of  young  men  are  the 
ruin  of  business ;  but  the  errors  of  aged  men 
amount  but  to  this,  that  more  might  have  been 
clone,  or  sooner.  Young  men,  in  the  conduct 
and,  manage  of  actions,  embrace  more  than  they 
can  hold  ;  stir  more  than  they  can  quiet ;  fly  to 
the  end,  withipst  consideration  of  the  means  and 
degrees.;. puj^ue  some  few  principles  which  they 
have  chanced  upon  absurdly  ;  care  not  to  innovate, 
which  draws  unknown  inconveniences  ;  use  ex 
treme  remedies  at  first ;  and  that,  which  doubleth 
all  errors,  will  not  acknowledge  or  retract  them, 
like  an  unruly  horse,  that  will  neither  stop  nor 
turn.  Men  of  age  object  too  much,  consult  too 
long,  adventure  too  little,  repent  too  soon,  and  sel 
dom  drive  business  home  to  the  full  period,  but 
content  themselves  with  a  mediocrity  of  success. 
Certainly  it  is  good  to  compound  employments  of 
both ;  for  that  will  be  good  for  the  present,  be 
cause  the  virtues  of  either  age  may  correct  the  de 
fects  of  both  ;  and  good  for  succession,  that  young 
men  may  be  learners,  while  men  in  age  are  ac 
tors;  and,  lastly,  good  for  external  accidents,  be 
cause  authority  followeth  old  men,  and  favour  and 
popularity  youth  ;  but,  for  the  moral  part,  perhaps, 
youth  will  have  the  pre-eminence,  as  age  hath  for 
the  politic.  A  certain  raobinupon  the  text,  "  Your  t/  < 
young  men  shall  see  visions,  and  your  old  men 
shall  dream  dreams,"  inferreth  that  young  men 
are  admitted  nearer  to  God  than  old,  because  vision 
is  a  clearer  revelation  than  a  dream  :  and,  certainly, 
the  more  a  man  drinketh  of  the  world,  the  more  it 
intoxicateth :  and  age  doth  profit  rather  in  the 
powers  of  understanding,  than  in  the  virtues  of 
the  will  and  affections.  There  be  some  have  an 
over-early  ripeness  in  their  years,  which  fadeth  be 
times  :  these  are,  first,  such  as  have  brittle  wits, 
the  edge  whereof  is  soon  turned  :  such  as  was 
Hermogenes  the  rhetorician,  whose  books  are  ex 
ceeding  subtle,  who  afterwards  waxed  stupid ;  a 
second  sort  is  of  those  that  have  some  natural  dis 
positions,  which  have  better  grace-in  youth  than  in 
age;  such  as  is  a  fluent  and  luxuriant  speech; 
which  becomes  youth  well,  but  not  age  ;  so  Tully 
saith  of  Hortens-ius,  "Idem  manebat,  neque  idem 
decebat ;"  the  third  is  of  such  as  take  too  high  a 
strain  at  the  first,  and  are  magnanimous  more 
than  tract  of  years  can  uphold ;  as  with  Scipio 
Africanus,  of  whom  Livy  saith  in  effect,  "  Ultima 
primis  cedebant." 

XLIII.     OF  BEAUTY.     »  f 

VIRTUE  is  like  a  rich  stone,  best  plain  set;  and 
surely  virtue  is  best  in  a  body  that  is  comely, 
though  not  of  delicate  features;  and  that  hath 
rather  dignity  of  presence,  than  beauty  of  aspect ; 
neither  is  it  almost  seen,  that  very  beautiful  per- 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


49 


sons  are  otherwise  of  great  virtue ;  as  if  nature 
were  rather  busy  not  to  err,  than  in  labour  to  pro 
duce  excellency  ;  and  therefore  they  prove  accom 
plished,  but  not  of  great  spirit ;  and  study  rather 
behaviour,  than  virtue.  But  this  holds  not  al 
ways  :  for  Augustus  Csssar,  Titus  Vespasianus, 
Philip  le  Belle  of  France,  Edward  the  Fourth  of 
England,  Alcibiades  of  Athens,  Ismael,  the  soph}§ 
of  Persia,  were  all  high  and  great  spirits,  and  yet 
the  most  beautiful  men  of  their  times.  In  beauty, 
that  of  favour,  is  more  than  that  of  colour;  and 
that  of  decent  and  gracious  motion,  more  than 
.  that  of  favour.  That  is  the  best  part  of  beauty, 
which  a  picture  cannot  express ;  no,  nor  the  first 
sight  of  the  life.  There  is  no  excellent  beauty 
that  hath  not  some  strangeness  in  the  proportion. 
A  man  cannot  tell  whether  Apelles  or  Albert 
Durer  were  the  more  trifler;  whereof  the  one 
would  make  a  personage  by  geometrical  propor 
tions^  the  other  by  taking  the  best  parts  out  of 
divers  faces,  to  make  one  excellent.  Such  per 
sonages,  I  think,  would  please  nobody  but  the 
painter  that  made  them  :  not  but  I  think  a  painter 
may  make  a  better  face  than  ever  was ;  but  he 
must  do  it  by  a  kind  of  felicity,  (as  a  musician 
that  maketh  an  excellent  air  in  music,)  and  not  by 
rule.  A  man  shall  see  faces,  that,  if  you  exa 
mine  them  part  by  part,  you  shall  find  never  a 
good  ;  and  yet  altogether  do  well.  If  it  be  true, 
that  the  principal  part  of  beauty,  is  in  decent  mo 
tion,  certainly  it  is  no  marvel,  though  persons  in 
years  seem  many  times  more  amiable ;  "  pul- 
chrorum  autumnus  pulcher ;"  for  no  youth  can  be 
comely  but  by  pardon,  and  considering  the  youth 
as  to  make  up  the  comeliness.  Beauty  is  as  sum 
mer  fruits,  which  are  easy  to  corrupt,  and  cannot 
last;  and,  for  the  most  part,  it  makes  a  dissolute 
youth,  and  an  age  a  little  out  of  countenance ; 
but  yet  certainly  again,  if  it  light  well,  it  maketh 
virtues  shine,  and  vices  blush. 

XLIV.     OF   DEFORMITY. 

DEFORMED  persons  are  commonly  even  with 
nature;  for  as  nature  hath  done  ill  by  them,  so 
do  they  by  nature,  being,  for  the  most  part,  (as 
the  Scripture  saith,)  "  void  of  natural  affection ;" 
and  so  they  have  their  revenge  of  natures.  Cer 
tainly  there  is  a  consent  between  the  body  and 
the  mind,  and  where  nature  erreth  in  the  one,  she 
ventureth  in  the  other :  "  ubi  peccat  in  uno,  peri- 
clitatur  in  altero :"  but  because  there  is  in  man 
an  election,  touching  the  frame  of  his  mind,  and 
a  necessity  in  the  frame  of  his  body,  the  stars  of 
natural  inclination  are  sometimes  obscured  by 
the  sun  of  discipline  and  virtue;  therefore  it  is 
good  to  consider  of  deformity,  not  as  a  sign  W7hich 
is  more  deceivable,  but  as  a  cause  which  seldom 
faileth  of  the  effect.  Whosoever  hath  any  thing 
fixed  in  his  person  that  doth  induce  contempt, 
hath  also  a  perpetual  spur  in  himself  to  rescue 

VOL.  I.— 7 


and  deliver  himself  from  scorn ;  therefore,  all  de 
formed  persons  are  extreme  bold  ;  first,  as  in  their 
own  defence,  as  being  exposed  to  scorn,  but  in 
process  of  time  by  a  general  habit.  Also  it  stir- 
reth  in  them  industry,  and  especially  of  this 
kind,  to  watch  and  observe  the  weakness  of 
others,  that  they  may  have  somewhat  to  repay. 
Again,  in  their  superiors,  it  quencheth  jealousy 
towards  them,  as  persons  that  they  think  they 
may  at  pleasure  despise:  and  it  layeth  their  com 
petitors  and  emulators  asleep,  as  never  believing 
they  should  be  in  possibility  of  advancement  till 
they  see  them  in  possession:  so  that  upon  the 
matter,  in  a  great  wit,  deformity  is  an  advantage 
to  rising.  Kings,  in  ancient  times,  (and  at  this 
present  in  some  countries,)  were  wont  to  put  great 
trust  in  eunuchs,  because  they  that  are  envious 
towards  all  are  more  obnoxious  and  officious 
towards  one;  but  yet  their  trust  towards  them 
hath  rather  been  as  to  good  spials,  and  good 
whisperers,  than  good  magistrates  and  officers : 
and  much  like  is  the  reason  of  deformed  persons. 
Still  the  ground  is,  they  will,  if  they  be  of  spirit, 
seek  to  free  themselves  from  scorn ;  which  must 
be  either  by  virtue  or  malice  ;  and,  therefore,xlet 
it  not  be  marvelled,  if  sometimes  they  prove  ex 
cellent  persons;  as  was  Agesilaus,  Zanger  the 
son  of  Solyman,  JEsop,  Gasca,  president  of  Peru ; 
and  Socrates  may  go  likewise  amongst  them, 
with  others. 

XLV.     OF  BUILDING. 

HOUSES  are  built  to  live  in,  and  not  to  look  on ; 
therefore  let  use  be  preferred  before  uniformity, 
except  where  both  may  be  had.  Leave  the  goodly 
fabrics  of  houses,  for  beauty  only,  to  the  en 
chanted  palaces  of  the  poets,  who  build  them 
with  small  cost.  He  that  builds  a  fair  house 
upon  an  ill  seat,  committeth  himself  to  prison: 
neither  do  I  reckon  it  an  ill  seat  only  where  the 
air  is  unwholesome,  but  likewise  where  the  air 
is  unequal ;  as  you  shall  see  many  fine  seats  set 
upon  a  knap  of  ground,  environed  with  higher  hills 
round  about  it,  whereby  the  heat  of  the  sun  is  pent 
in,  and  the  wind  gathereth  as  in  troughs ;  so  as 
you  shall  have,  and  that  suddenly,  as  great  diver 
sity  of  heat  and  cold  as  if  you  dwelt  in  several 
places.  Neither  is  it  ill  air  only  that  maketh  an 
ill  seat :  but  ill  ways,  ill  markets ;  and,  if  you  will 
consult  with  Momus,  ill  neighbours.  I  speak  not 
of  many  more ;  want  of  water,  want  of  wood,  shade, 
and  shelter,  want  of  fruitfulness,  and  mixture  of 
grounds  of  several  natures;  want  of  prospect, 
want  of  level  grounds,  want  of  places  at  some  near 
distance  for  sports  of  hunting,  hawking,  and 
races;  too  near  the  sea,  too  remote;  having  the 
commodity  of  navigable  rivers,  or  the  discommo 
dity  of  their  overflowing :  too  far  off  from  great 
cities,  which  may  hinder  business ;  or  too  near 
them,  which  lurcheth  all  provisions,  and  maketh 
every  thing  dear;  where  a  man  hath  a  great  1'iv'tg 
E 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


laid  together,  and  where  he  is  scanted ;  all  which, 
as  it  is  impossible  perhaps  to  find  together,  so  it  is 
as  good  to  know  them,  and  think  of  them,  that  a 
man  may  take  as  many  as  he  can ;  and,  if  he  have 
several  dwellings,  that  he  sort  them  so,  that  what 
he  wanteth  in  the  one  he  may  find  in  the  other. 
Lucullus  answered  Pompey  well,  who,  when  he 
saw  his  stately  galleries  and  rooms  so  large  and 
lightsome,  in  one  of  his  houses,  said,  "  Surely  an 
excellent  place  for  summer,  but  how  do  you  in 
winter"?"  Lucullus  answered,  "Why  do  you  not 
think  me  as  wise  as  some  fowls  are,  that  ever 
change  their  abode  towards  the  winter]" 

To  pass  from  the  seat  to  the  house  itself,  we 
will  do  as  Cicero  doth  in  the  orator's  art,  who 
writes  books  De  Oratore,  and  a  book  he  entitles 
Orator  ;  whereof  the  former  delivers  the  precepts 
of  the  art,  and  the  latter  the  perfection.  We  will 
therefore  describe  a  princely  palace,  making  a  brief 
model  thereof;  for  it  is  strange  to  see  now  in  Eu 
rope,  such  huge  buildings  as  the  Vatican  and  Es- 
curial,  and  some  others  be,  and  yet  scarce  a  very 
fair  room  in  them. 

First,  therefore,  I  say,  you  cannot  have  a  perfect 
palace,  except  you  have  two  several  sides ;  a  side 
for  the  banquet,  as  spoken  of  in  the  book  of  Esther, 
and  a  side  for  the  household  ;  the  one  for  feasts 
and  triumphs,  and  the  other  for  dwelling.  I 
understand  both  these  sides  to  be  not  only  returns, 
but  parts  of  the  front ;  and  to  be  uniform  without, 
though  severally  partitioned  within ;  and  to  be  on 
both  sides  of  a  great  and  stately  tower  in  the  midst 
of  the  front,  that,  as  it  were,joineth  them  together 
on  either  hand.  I  would  have  on  the  side  of  the 
banquet  in  front,  one  only  goodly  room  above  stairs 
of  some  forty  foot  high ;  and  under  it  a  room  for  a 
dressing  or  preparing  place,  at  times  of  triumphs. 
On  the  other  side,  which  is  the  household  side,  I 
wish  it  divided  at  the  first  into  a  hall  and  a  chapel, 
(with  a  partition  between,)  both  of  good  state  and 
bigness  ;  and  those  not  to  go  all  the  length,  but  to 
have  at  tlt€  farther  end  a  winter  and  a  summer  par 
lour,  both  fair;  and  under  these  rooms  a  fair  and 
large  cellar  sunk  under  ground  ;  and  likewise  some 
privy  kitchens,  with  butteries  and  pantries,  and 
the  like.  As  for  the  tower,  I  would  have  it  two 
stones,  of  eighteen  foot  high  a  piece  above  the 
two  wings ;  and  a  goodly  leads  upon  the  top, 
railed  with  statues  interposed ;  and  the  same  tower 
to  be  divided  into  rooms,  as  shall  be  thought  fit. 
The  stairs  likewise  to  the  upper  rooms,  let  them 
be  upon  a  fair  open  newel,  and  finely  railed  in 
with  images  of  wood  cast  into  a  brass  colour ; 
and  a  very  fair  landing  place  at  the  top.  But  this 
to  be,  if  you  do  not  point  any  of  the  lower  rooms 
for  a  dining  place  of  servants  ;  for,  otherwise,  you 
shall  have  the  servants'  dinner  after  your  own  ; 
for  the  steam  of  it  will  come  up  as  in  a  tunnel : 
and  so  much  for  the  front ;  only  I  understand  the 
^eight  of  the  first  stairs  to  be  sixteen  foot,  which 
is  the  height  of  the  lower  room. 


Beyond  this  front  is  there  to  be  a  fair  court,  but 
three  sides  of  it  a  far  lower  building  than  the  front ; 
and  in  all  the  four  corners  of  that  court  fair  stair 
cases,  cast  into  turrets  on  the  outside,  and  not 
within  the  row  of  buildings  themselves  :  but  those 
towers  are  not  to  be  of  the  height  of  the  front,  but 
rather  proportionable  to  the  lower  building.  Let 
the  court  not  be  paved,  for  that  striketh  up  a  great 
heat  in  summer,  and  much  cold  in  winter :  but  only 
some  side  alleys  with  a  cross,  and  the  quarters  to 
graze,  being  kept  shorn,  but  not  too  near  shorn. 
The  row  of  return  on  the  banquet  side,  let  it  be  all 
stately  galleries ;  in  which  galleries  let  there  be 
three  or  five  fine  cupolas  in  the  length  of  it,  placed 
at  equal  distance,  and  fine  coloured  windows  of 
several  works :  on  the  household  side,  chambers  of 
presence  and  ordinary  entertainments,  with  some 
bed-chambers ;  and  let  all  three  sides  be  a  double 
house,  without  thorough  lights  on  the  sides,  that 
you  may  have  rooms  from  the  sun,  both  for 
forenoon  and  afternoon.  Cast  it  also,  that  you 
may  have  rooms  both  for  summer  and  winter ; 
shady  for  summer,  and  warm  for  winter.  You 
shall  have  sometimes  fair  houses  so  full  of  glass, 
that  one  cannot  tell  where  to  become  to  be  out  of 
the  sun  or  cold.  For  inbowed  windows,  I  hold 
them  of  good  use ;  (in  cities,  indeed,  upright  do 
better,  in  respect  of  the  uniformity  towards  the 
street;)  for  they  be  pretty  retiring  places  for  con 
ference;  and  besides,  they  keep  both  the  wind 
and  sun  off;  for  that  which  would  strike  almost 
thorough  the  room  doth  scarce  pass  the  window  : 
but  let  them  be  but  few,  four  in  the  court,  on  the 
sides  only. 

Beyond  this  court,  let  there  be  an  inward  court, 
of  the  same  square  and  height,  which  is  to  be 
environed  with  the  garden  on  all  sides;  and  in 
the  inside,  cloistered  on  all  sides  upon  decent  and 
beautiful  arches,  as  high  as  the  first  story :  on  the 
under  story,  towards  the  garden,  let  it  be  turned 
to  a  grotto,  or  place  of  shade,  or  estivation ;  and 
only  have  opening  and  windows  towards  the  gar 
den,  and  be  level  upon  the  floor,  no  whit  sunken 
under  ground,  to  avoid  all  dampishness  :  and  let 
there  be  a  fountain,  or  some  fair  work  of  statues 
in  the  midst  of  this  court,  and  to  be  paved  as  the 
other  court  was.  These  buildings  to  be  for  privy 
lodgings  on  both  sides,  and  the  end  for  privy  gal 
leries;  whereof  you  must  foresee  that  one  of  them 
be  for  an  infirmary,  if  the  prince  or  any  special 
person  should  be  sick,  with  chambers,  bed-cham 
ber,  "  antecamera,"  and  "recamera,"  joining  to 
it ;  this  upon  the  second  story.  Upon  the  ground 
story,  a  fair  gallery,  open,  upon  pillars ;  and  upon 
the  third  story,  likewise,  an  open  gallery  upon 
pillars,  to  take  the  prospect  and  freshness  of  the 
garden.  At  both  corners  of  the  further  side,  by 
way  of  return,  let  there  be  two  delicate  or  rich 
cabinets,  daintily  paved,  richly  hanged,  glazed 
with  crystalline  glass,  and  a  rich  cupola  in  the 
midst ;  and  all  other  elegancy  that  may  be  thought 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


51 


upon.  In  the  upper  gallery,  too,  I  wish  that  there 
may  be,  if  the  place  will  yield  it,  some  fountains 
running  in  divers  places  from  the  wall,  with  some 
fine  avoidances.  And  thus  much  for  the  model 
of  the  palace ;  save  that  you  must  have,  before 
you  come  to  the  front,  three  courts  ;  a  green  court 
plain,  with  a  wall  about  it;  a  second  court  of  the 
same,  but  more  garnished  with  little  turrets,  or 
rather  embellishments,  upon  the  wall ;  and  a  third 
court,  to  make  a  square  with  the  front,  but  not  to 
be  built,  nor  yet  enclosed  with  a  naked  wall,  but 
enclosed  with  terraces  leaded  aloft,  and  fairly 
garnished  on  the  three  sides ;  and  cloistered  on 
the  inside  with  pillars,  and  not  with  arches  below. 
As  for  offices,  let  them  stand  at  distance,  with 
some  low  galleries  to  pass  from  them  to  the  palace 
itself. 

XLVI.     OF  GARDENS. 

GOD  ALMIGHTY  first  planted  a  garden;  and, 
indeed,  it  is  the  purest  of  human  pleasures ;  it  is 
the  greatest  refreshment  to  the  spirits  of  man; 
without  which  buildings  and  palaces  are  but  gross 
handiworks ;  and  a  man  shall  ever  see,  that, 
when  ages  grow  to  civility  and  elegancy,  men 
come  to  build  stately,  sooner  than  to  garden  finely; 
as  if  gardening,  were  the  greater  perfection.  I  do 
hold  it  in  the  royal  ordering  of  gardens,  there 
ought  to  be  gardens  for  all  the  months  in  the  year, 
in  which,  severally,  things  of  beauty  may  be  then 
in  season.  For  December,  and  January,  and  the 
latter  part  of  November,  you  must  take  such 
things  as  are  green  all  winter :  holly,  ivy,  bays, 
juniper,  cypress-trees,  yew,  pineapple-trees,  fir- 
trees,  rosemary,  lavender;  periwinkle,  the  white, 
the  purple,  and  the  blue  ;  germander,  flag,  orange- 
trees,  lemon-trees,  and  myrtles,  if  they  be  stoved  ; 
and  sweet  marjoram,  warm  set.  There  followeth, 
for  the  latter  part  of  January  and 'February,  the 
mezereon-tree,  which  then  blossoms ;  crocus  ver- 
nus,  both  the  yellow  and  the  gray;  primroses, 
anemones,  the  early  tulip,  the  hyacinthus  orien- 
talis,  chamairis  fritellaria.  For  March,  there  come 
violets,  especially  the  single  blue,  which  are  the 
earliest;  the  yellow  daffodil,  the  daisy,  the 
almond-tree  in  blossom,  the  peach-tree  in  blossom, 
the  cornelian-tree  in  blossom,  s\veetbrier.  In 
April  follow  the  double  white  violet,  the  wall 
flower,  the  stock-gilliflower,  the  cowslip,  flower- 
de-luces,  and  lilies  of  all  natures ;  rosemary-flow 
ers,  the  tulip,  the  double  peony,  the  pale  daffodil, 
the  French  honeysuckle,  the  cherry-tree  in  blos 
som,  the  damascene  and  plum-trees  in  blossom, 
*he  white  thorn  in  leaf,  the  lilac-tree.  In  May 
and  June  come  pinks  of  all  sorts,  especially  the 
blush-pink ;  roses  of  all  kinds,  except  the  musk, 
which  comes  later;  honeysuckles,  strawberries, 
bugloss,  columbine,  the  French  marigold,  flos 
Africanus,  cherry-tree  in  fruit,  ribes,  figs  in  fruit, 
rasps,  vine-flowers,  lavender  in  flowers,  the  sweet 


satyrian,  with  the  white  flower ;  herba  muscaria, 
lilium  convallium,  the  apple-tree  in  blossom.  In 
July  come  gilliflowers  of  all  varieties,  musk-roses, 
the  lime-tree  in  blossom,  early  pears,  and  plums, 
in  fruit,  genitings,  codlins.  In  August  come 
plums,  of  all  sorts  in  fruit,  pears,  apricots,  bar 
berries,  filberds,  muskmelons,  monkshoods,  of 
all  colours.  In  September  come  grapes,  apples, 
poppies  of  all  colours,  peaches,  melocotones,  nec 
tarines,  cornelians,  wardens,  quinces.  In  October 
and  the  beginning  of  November  come  services, 
medlars,  bullaces,  roses  cut  or  removed  to  come 
late,  hollyoaks,  and  such  like.  These  particulars 
are  for  the  climate  of  London ;  but  my  meaning 
is  perceived,  that  you  may  have  "  ver  perpetuum," 
as  the  place  affords. 

And  because  the  breath  of  flowers  is  far  sweeter 
in  the  air  (where  it  comes  and  goes,  like  the 
warbling  of  music)  than  in  the  hand,  therefore 
nothing  is  more  fit  for  that  delight,  than  to  know 
what  be  the  flowers  and  plants  that  do  best  per 
fume  the  air.  Roses,  damask  and  red,  are  fast 
flowers  of  their  smells ;  so  that  you  may  walk 
by  a  whole  row  of  them,  and  find  nothing  of  their 
sweetness;  yea,  though  it  be  in  a  morning's  dew. 
Ba)^s,  likewise,  yield  no  smell  as  they  grow, 
rosemary  little,_nor_s.weet  marjoram;  that  which, 
above  all  others,  yields  the  sweetest  smell  in  the 
air,  is  the  violet,  especially  the  white  double 
violet,  which  comes  twice  a  year,  about  the  mid 
dle  of  April,  and  about  Bartholomew-tide.  Next 
to  that  is  the  musk-rose;  then  the  strawberry- 
leaves  dying,  w'itrr  a  most  excellent  cordial  smell ; 
then  the  flower  of  the  vines,  it  is  a  little  dust  like 
the  dust  of  a  bent,  which  grows  upon  the  cluster 
in  the  first  coming  forth ;  then  sweetbrier,  then 
wallflowers,  which  are  very  delightful  to  be  set 
under  a  parlour  or  lower  chamber  window ;  then 
pinks  and  gilliflowers,  especially  the  matted  pink 
and  clove  gilliflower ;  then  the  flowers  of  the  lime- 
tree  ;  then  the  honeysuckles,  so  they  be  somewhat 
afar  off.  Of  bean-flowers  I  speak  not,  because 
they  are  field  flowers ;  but  those  which  perfume 
the  air  most  delightfully,  not  passed  by  as  the 
rest,  but  being  trodden  upon  and  crushed,  are 
three,  that  is,  burnet,  wild  thyme,  and  watermints ; 
therefore  you  are  to  set  whole  alleys  of  them,  to 
have  the  pleasure  when  you  walk  or  tread. 

For  gardens,  (speaking  of  those  which  are,  in 
deed,  prince-like,  as  we  have  done  of  buildings.) 
the  contents  ought  not  well  to  be  under  thirty 
acres  of  ground,  and  to  be  divided  into  three  parts; 
a  green  in  the  entrance,  a  heath,  or  desert,  in  the 
going  forth,  and  the  main  garden  in  the  midst, 
besides  alleys  on  both  sides ;  and,  I  like  well, 
that  four  acres  of  ground  be  assigned  to  the  green, 
six  to  the  heath,  four  and  four  to  either  side,  and 
twelve  to  the  main  garden.  The  green  hath  two 
pleasures ;  the  one,  because  nothing  is  more  plea 
sant  to  the  eye  than  green  grass  kept  finely  shorn; 
the  other,  because  it  will  give  you  a  fair  alley  in 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


the  midst,  by  which  you  may  go  in  front  upon  a 
stately  hedge,  which  is  to  enclose  the  garden : 
but  because  the  alley  will  be  long,  and,  in  great 
heat  of  the  year,  or  day,  you  ought  not  to  buy 
the  shade  in  the  garden  by  going  in  the  sun 
through  the  green ;  therefore  you  are,  of  either 
side  the  green,  to  plant  a  covert  alley,  upon  car 
penter's  work,  about  twelve  foot  in  height,  by 
which  you  may  go  in  shade  into  the  garden.  As 
for  the  making  of  knots,  or  figures,  with  divers 
coloured  earths,  that  they  may  lie  under  the  win 
dows  of  the  house  on  that  side  which  the  garden 
stands,  they  be  but  toys:  you  may  see  as  good 
sights  many  times  in  tarts.  The  garden  is  best 
to  be  square,  encompassed  on  all  the  four  sides 
with  a  stately  arched  hedge;  the  arches  to  be 
upon  pillars  of  carpenter's  work,  of  some  ten  foot 
high,  and  six  foot  broad,  and  the  spaces  between 
of  the  same  dimension  with  the  breadth  of  the 
arch.  Over  the  arches  let  there  be  an  entire 
hedge  of  some  four  foot  high,  framed  also  upon 
carpenter's  work  $  and  upon  the  upper  hedge,  over 
every  arch,  a  little  turnet,  with  a  belly  enough  to 
receive  a  cage  of  birds:  and  over  every  space 
between  the  arches  some  other  little  figure,  with 
broad  plates  of  round  coloured  glass  gilt,  for  the 
sun  to  play  upon:  but  this  hedge  I  intend  to  be 
raised  upon  a  bank,  not  steep,  but  gently  slope, 
of  some  six  foot,  set  all  with  flowers.  Also  I 
understand,  that  this  square  of  the  garden  should 
riot  be  the  whole  breadth  of  the  ground,  but  to 
leave  on  either  side  ground  enough  for  diversity 
of  side  alleys,  unto  which  the  two  covert  alleys 
of  the  green  may  deliver  you;  but  there  must  be 
no  alleys  with  hedges  at  either  end  of  this  great 
enclosure  ;  not  at  the  higher  end,  for  letting  your 
prospect  upon  this  fair  hedge  from  the  green ;  nor 
at  the  further  end,  for  letting  your  prospect  from 
the  hedge  through  the  arches  upon  the  heath. 

For  the  ordering  of  the  ground  within  the  great 
hedge,  I  leave  it  to  variety  of  device;  advising, 
nevertheless,  that  whatsoever  form  you  cast  it  into 
first,  it  be  not  too  busy,  or  full  of  work;  wherein 
I,  for  my  part,  do  not  like  images  cut  out  in  juni 
per  or  other  garden  stuff;  they  be  for  children. 
Little  low  hedges,  round  like  welts,  with  some 
pretty  pyramids,  I  like  well ;  p.ncl  in  some  places 
lair  columns,  upon  frames  of  carpenter's  work. 
I  would  also  have  the  alleys  spacious  and  fair. 
You  may  have  closer  alleys  upon  the  side  grounds, 
but  none  in  the  main  garden.  I  wish  also,  in  the 
very  middle,  a  fair  mount,  with  three  ascents  and 
alleys,  enough  for  four  to  walk  abreast;  which  I 
would  have  to  be  perfect  circles,  without  any  bul 
warks  or  embossments ;  and  the  whole  mount  to 
be  thirty  foot  high,  and  some  fine  banqueting- 
house  with  some  chimneys  neatly  cast,  and  with 
out  too  much  glass. 

For  fountains,  they  are  a  great  beauty  and  re 
freshment;  but  pools  mar  all,  and  make  the  gar 
den  unwholesome,  and  full  of  flies  and  frogs. 


Fountains  I  intend  to  be  of  two  natures ;  the  one 
that  sprinkleth  or  spouteth  water :  the  other  a  fair 
receipt  of  water,  of  some  thirty  or  forty  foot 
square,  but  without  fish,  or  slime,  or  mud.  For 
the  first,  the  ornaments  of  images,  gilt  or  of  mar 
ble,  which  are  in  use,  do  well:  but  the  main 
matter  is  so  to  convey  the  water,  as  it  never  stay, 
either  in  the  bowls  or  in  the  cistern :  that  the 
water  be  never  by  rest  discoloured,  green  or  red, 
or  the  like,  or  gather  any  mossiness  or  putrefac 
tion  ;  besides  that,  it  is  to  be  cleansed  every  day 
by  the  hand  :  also  some  steps  up  to  it,  and  some 
fine  pavement  about  it  doth  well.  As  for  the 
other  kind  of  fountain,  which  we  may  call  a  bath 
ing  pool,  it  may  admit  much  curiosity  and  beauty, 
wherewith  we  will  not  trouble  ourselves  :  as  that 
the  bottom  be  finely  paved,  and  with  images ;  the 
sides  likewise;  and  withal  embellished  with 
coloured  glass,  and  such  things  of  lustre;  encom 
passed  also  with  fine  rails  of  low  statues :  but 
the  main  point  is  the  same  which  we  mentioned 
in  the  former  kind  of  fountain ;  which  is,  that  the 
water  be  in  perpetual  motion,  fed  by  a  water 
higher  than  the  pool,  and  delivered  into  it  by  fair 
spouts,  and  then  discharged  away  under  ground, 
by  some  equality  of  bores,  that  it  stay  little;  and 
for  fine  devices,  of  arching  water  without  spilling, 
and  making  it  rise  in  several  forms,  (of  feathers, 
drinking  glasses,  canopies,  and  the  like,)  they  be 
pretty  things  to  look  on,  but  nothing  to  health  and 
sweetness. 

For  the  heath,  which  was  the  third  part  of  our 
plot,  I  wished  it  to  be  framed  as  much  as  may  be 
to  a  natural  wildness.  Trees  I  would  have  none 
in  it,  but  some  thickets  made  only  of  sweetbrier 
and  honeysuckle,  and  some  wild  vine  amongst; 
and  the  ground  set  with  violets,  strawberries,  and 
primroses ;  for  these  are  sweet,  and  prosper  in 
the  shade ;  and  these  to  be  in  the  heath  here  and 
there,  not  in  any  order.  I  like  also  little  heaps, 
in  the  nature  of  mole  hills,  (such  as  are  in  wild 
heaths.)  to  be  set,  some  with  wild  thyme,  some 
with  pinks,  some  with  germander  that  gives  a 
good  flower  to  the  eye;  some  with  periwinkle, 
some  with  violets,  some  with  strawberries,  some 
with  cowslips,  some  with  daisies,  some  with  red 
roses,  some  with  lilium  convallium,  some  with 
sweetwilliams  red,  some  with  bear's-foot,  and 
the  like  low  flowers,  being  withal  sweet  and 
sightly;  part  of  which  heaps  to  be  with  standards 
of  little  bushes  pricked  upon  their  top,  and  part 
without :  the  standards  to  be  roses,  juniper,  holly, 
barberries,  (but  here  and  there,  because,  of  the 
smell  of  their  blossom,)  red  currants,  gooseberries, 
rosemary,  bays,  sweetbrier,  and  such  like :  but 
these  standards  to  be  kept  with  cutting-,  that  they 
grow  not  out  of  course. 

For  the  side  grounds,  you  are  to  fill  them  with 
variety  of  alleys,  private,  to  give  a  full  shade  ; 
some  of  them,  wheresoever  the  sun  be.  You 
are  to  frame  some  of  them  likewise  for  shelter, 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


53 


that  when  the  wind  blows  sharp,  you  may  walk 
as  in  a  gallery  :  and  those  alleys  must  be  likewise 
hedged  at  both  ends,  to  keep  out  the  wind  ;  and 
these  closer  alleys  must  be  ever  finely  gravelled, 
and  no  grass,  because  of  going  wet.  In  many  of 
these  alleys,  likewise,  you  are  to  set  fruit-trees 
of  all  sorts,  as  well  upon  the  walls  as  in  ranges  ; 
and  this  should  be  generally  observed,  that  the 
borders  wherein  you  plant  your  fruit-trees  be  fair, 
and  large,  and  low,  and  not  steep ;  and  set  with 
fine  flowers,  but  thin  and  sparingly,  lest  they  de 
ceive  the  trees.  At  the  end  of  both  the  side- 
grounds  I  would  have  a  mount  of  some  pretty 
height,  leaving  the  wall  of  the  enclosure  breast 
high,  to  look  abroad  into  the  fields. 

For  the  main  garden,  I  do  not  deny  but  there 
should  be  some  fair  alleys  ranged  on  both  sides, 
with  fruit-trees,  and  some  pretty  tufts  of  fruit-trees 
and  arbours  with  seats,  set  in  some  decent  order; 
but  these  to  be  by  no  means  set  too  thick,  but  to 
leave  the  main  garden  so  as  it  be  not  close,  but  the 
air  open  and  free.  For  as  for  shade,  I  would  have 
you  rest  upon  the  alleys  of  the  side  grounds,  there 
to  walk,  if  you  be  disposed,  in  the  heat  of  the  year 
or  day  ;  but  to  make  account  that  the  main  garden 
is  for  the  more  temperate  parts  of  the  year,  and  in 
the  heat  of  summer,  for  the  morning  and  the  even 
ing,  or  overcast  days. 

For  aviaries,  I  like  them  not,  except  they  be  of 
that  largeness  as  they  may  be  turfed,  and  have 
living  plants  and  bushes  set  in  them  ;  that  the 
birds  may  have  more  scope  and  natural  nestling, 
and  that  no  foulness  appear  in  the  floor  of  the 
aviary.  So  I  have  made  a  platform  of  a  princely 
garden,  partly  by  precept,  partly  by  drawing ;  not  a 
model  but  some  general  lines  of  it ;  and  in  this  I 
have  spared  for  no  cost;  but  it  is  nothing  for  great 
princes,  that,  for  the  most  part,  taking  advice  with 
workmen,  with  no  less  cost  set  their  things 
together,  and  sometimes  add  statues,  and  such 
things,  for  state  and  magnificence,  but  nothing  to 
the  true  pleasure  of  a  garden. 

XL VII.     OF  NEGOTIATING. 

IT  is  generally  better  to  deal  by  speech  than  by 
letter ;  and  by  the  mediation  of  a  third  than  by  a 
man's  self.  Letters  are  good  when  a  man  would 
draw  an  answer  by  letter  back  again ;  or  when  it 
may  serve  for  a  man's  justification  afterwards  to 
produce  his  own  letter;  or  where  it  may  be 
danger  to  be  interrupted,  or  heard  by  pieces.  To 
deal  in  person  is  good,  when  a  man's  face  breed- 
eih  regard,  as  commonly  with  inferiors;  or  in  ten 
der  cases,  where  a  man's  eye  upon  the  countenance 
of  him  with  whom  he  speaketh,  may  give  him  a  di 
rection  how  far  to  go;  and  generally,  where  a  man 
will  reserve  to  himself  liberty  either  to  disavow 
or  to  expound.  In  choice  of  instruments,  it  is 
better  to  choose  men  of  a  plainer  sort,  that  are  like 
to  do  that  that  is  committed  to  them,  and  to  re 


>ort  back  again  faithfully  the  success,  than  those 
hat  are  cunning  to  contrive  out  of  other  men's 
msiness  somewhat  to  grace  themselves,  and  will 
lelp  the  matter  in  report,  for  satisfaction  sake. 
Use  also  such  persons  as  affect  the  Tmsiness 
wherein  they  are  employed,  for  that  quickeneth 
much  ;  and  such  as  are  fit  for  the  matter,  as  bold 
men  for  expostulation,  fair-spoken  men  for  persua 
sion,  crafty  men  for  inquiry  and  observation,  fro- 
ward  and  absurd  men  for  business  that  doth  not 
well  bear  out  itself.  Use  also  such  as  have  been 
lucky  and  prevailed  before  in  things  wherein  you 
have  employed  them  ;  for  that  breeds  confidence, 
and  they  will  strive  to  maintain  their  prescription. 
It  is  better  to  sound  a  person  with  whom  one  deals 
afar  off,  than  to  fall  upon  the  point  at  first ;  except, 
you  mean  to  surprise  him  by  some  short  question. 
It  is  better  dealing  with  men  in  appetite,  than 
with  those  that  are  where  they  would  be.  If  a 
man  deal  with  another  upon  conditions,  the  start 
of  first  performance  is  all ;  which  a  man  can 
reasonably  demand,  except  either  the  nature  of 
the  thing  be  such,  which  must  go  before  :  or  else 
a  man  can  persuade  the  other  party,  that  he  shall 
still  need  him  in  some  other  thing ;  or  else  that 
he  be  counted  the  honester  man.  All  practice  is 
to  discover,  or  to  work.  Men  discover  themselves 
in  trust,  in  passion,  at  unawares  ;  and  of  necessity, 
when  they  would  have  somewhat  done,  and  can 
not  find  an  apt  pretext.  If  you  would  work  any 
man,  you  must  either  know  his  nature  and  fa 
shions,  and  so  lead  him ;  or  his  ends,  and  so  per 
suade  him ;  or  his  weakness  and  disadvantages, 
and  so  awe  him ;  or  those  that  have  interest  in 
him,  and  so  govern  him.  In  dealing  with  cun 
ning  persons,  we  must  ever  consider  their  ends, 
to  interpret  their  speeches;  and  it  is  good  to  say 
little  to  them,  and  that  which  they  least  look  for. 
In  all  negotiations  of  difficulty,  a  man  may  not 
look  to  sow  and  reap  at  once ;  but  must  prepare 
business,  and  so  ripen  it  by  degrees. 


XLVIII. 


OF  FOLLOWERS  AND 
FRIENDS. 


COSTLY  followers  are  not  to  be  liked,  lest  while 
a  man  maketh  his  train  longer,  he  make  his  wings 
shorter.  I  reckon  to  be  costly,  not  them  alone 
which  charge  the  purse,  but  which  are  wearisome 
and  importune  in  suits.  Ordinary  followers  ought 
to  challenge  no  higher  conditions  than  counte 
nance,  recommendation,  and  protection  frcm 
wrongs.  Factious  .followers  are  worse  to  be  Nj 
liked,  which  follow  not  upon  affection  to  him  with  i 
whom  they  range  themselves,  but  upon  discon 
tentment  conceived  against  some  other;  where 
upon  commonly  ensueth  that  ill  intelligence,  that 
we  many  times  see  between  great  personages. 
Likewise  glorious  followers,  who  make  them- 
•selves  as  trumpets  of  the  commendation  of  those 
jthey  follow,  are  full  of  inconvenience,  for  they 
E  2 


54 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


taint  business  through  want  of  secrecy  ;  and  they 
export  honour  from  a  man,  and  make  him  a  return 
in  envy.     There  is  a  kind  of  followers,  likewise, 
\  which  are  dangerous,  being  indeed  espials :  which 
J  inquire  the  secrets  of  the  house,  and  bear  tales  of 
them  to  others  ;  yet  such  men,  many  times,  are  in 
great  favour  ;  for  they  are  officious,  and  commonly 
exchange  tales.     The  following  by  certain  estates 
of  men,  answerable  to  that  which  a  great  person 
himself  professeth,  (as  of  soldiers  to  him  that  hath 
been  employed  in  the  wars,  and  the  like,)  hath 
ever  been  a  thing  civil,  and  well  taken  even  in 
monarchies,  so  it  be  without  too  much  pomp  or 
popularity :  but  the  most  honourable  kind  of  fol- 
1  lowing,  is  to  be  followed  as  one  that  apprehendeth 
\  to  advance  virtue  and  desert  in  all  sorts  of  persons ; 
'and  yet,  where  there  is  no  eminent  odds  in  suffi 
ciency,  it  is  better  to  take  with  the  more  passable, 
than  with  the  more  able ;   and  besides  to  speak 
truth  in  base  times,  active  men  are  of  more  use 
than  virtuous.     It  is  true,  that  in  government,  it 
is  good  to  use  men  of  one  rank  equally :  for  to 
countenance  some  extraordinarily,  is  to  make  them 
insolent,  and  the  rest   discontent;  because  they 
may  claim  a  due  :  but  contrariwise  in  favour,  to 
use  men  with  much   difference   and   election   isj 
good  ;  for  it  maketh  the  persons  preferred  morel 
thankful,  and  the  rest  more  officious  :  because  al| 
is  of  favour.  At  is  good  discretion  not  to  make  too 
much  of  any  man  at  the  first ;  because  one  cannot 
hold  out  that  proportion.'N  To  be  governed  (as  we 
call  it)  by  one,  is  not  safe  ;  for  it  shows  softness, 
"\    and  gives  a  freedom  to  scandal  and  disreputation ; 
1    for  those  that  would  not  censure  or  speak  ill  of  a 
man  immediately,  will  talk  more  boldly  of  those 
that  are  so  great  with  them,  and  thereby  wound 
their  honour  ;  yet  to  be  distracted  with  many,  is 
worse;  for  it  makes  men  to  be  of  the  lastimpres- 
\  sion,  and  full  of  change.     To  take  advice  of  some 
1  few  friends  is   ever   honourable ;  for  lookers-on 
smany  times  see  more  {ban  gamesters  ;   and  the 
vale   best  dUcovereth   the  hill.     There  is  little 
friendship  in  the  world,  and  least  of  all  between 
equals,  which  was  wont  to  be  magnified.     That 
•that  is,  is  between  superior  and  inferior,  whose 
fortunes  may  comprehend  the  one  the  other. 

XLIX.    /OF  SUITORS./ 

INI  ANY  ill  matters  and  projects  are  undertaken  ; 
and  private  suits  do  putrefy  the  public  good. 
Many  good  matters  are  undertaken  with  bad 
minds ;  I  mean  not  only  corrupt  minds,  but 
crafty  minds ;  that  intend  not  performance. 
Some  embrace  suits  which  never  mean  to  deal 
effectually  in  them  ;  but  if  they  see  there  may  be 
life  in  the  matter,*by  some  other  mean,  they  will 
be  content  to  win  a  thank  or  take  a  second  reward, 
or,  at  least,  to  make  use  in  the  mean  time  of  the 
suitor's  hopes.  Some  take  hold  of  suits  only  for 


an  occasion  to  cross  some  other,  or  to  make  an 
information,  whereof  they  could  not  otherwise 
have  apt  pretext,  without  care  what  become  of 
the  suit  when  that  turn  is  served ;  or,  generally, 
to  make  other  men's  business  a  kind  of  entertain 
ment  to  bring  in  their  own  :  nay,  some  undertake 
suits  with  a  full  purpose  to  let  them  fall ;  to  the 
end  to  gratify  the  adverse  party,  or  competitor. 
Surely  there  is  in  some  sort  a  right  in  every  suit ; 
either  a  right  of  equity  if  it  be  a  suit  of  contro 
versy,  or  a  right  of  desert  if  it  be  a  suit  of  petition. 
If  affection  lead  a  man  to  favour  the  wrong  side 
in  justice,  let  him  rather  use  his  countenance  to 
compound  the  matter  than  to  carry  it.  If  affection 
lead  a  man  to  favour  the  less  worthy  in  desert,  let 
him  do  it  without  depraving  or  disabling  the  bet 
ter  deserver.  In  suits  which  a  man  doth  not  well 
understand,  it  is  good  to  refer  them  to  some  friend 
of  trust  and  judgment,  that  may  report  whether 
he  may  deal  in  them  with  honour :  but  let  him 
choose  well  his  referendaries,  for  else  he  may  bo 
led  by  the  nose.  Suitors  are  so  distasted  with 
delays  and  abuses,  that  plain  dealing  in  denying 
to  deal  in  suits  at  first,  and  reporting  the  success 
barely,  and  in  challenging  no  more  thanks  than 
one  hath  deserved,  is  grown  not  only  honourable 
but  also  gracious.  In  suits  of  favour,  the  first 
coming  ought  to  take  little  place ;  so  far  forth 
consideration  may  be  had  of  his  trust,  that  if  in 
telligence  of  the  matter  could  not  otherwise  have 
been  had  but  by  him,  advantage  be  not  taken  of 
the  note,  but  the  party  left  to  his  other  means ; 
and  in  some  sort  recompensed  for  his  discovery. 
To  be  ignorant  of  the  value  of  a  suit,  is  simplicity :. 
as  well  as  to  be  ignorant  of  the  right  thereof,  is 
want  of  conscience.  Secrecy  in  suits  is  a  great 
mean  of  obtaining ;  for  voicing  them  to  be  in  for 
wardness  may  discourage  some  kind  of  suitors ; 
but  doth  quicken  and  awake  others:  but  timing- 
of  the  suit  is  the  principal ;  timing  I  say,  not  only 
in  respect  of  the  person  that  should  grant  it,  but 
in  respect  of  those  which  are  like  to  cross  it,  Let 
a  man,  in  the  choice  of  his  mean,  rather  choose  the 
fittest  mean,  than  the  greatest  mean ;  and  rather 
them  that  deal  in  certain  things,  than  those  that 
are  general.  The  reparation  of  a  denial  is  some 
times  equal  to  the  first  grant,  if  a  man  show  him 
self  neither  dejected  nor  discontented.  "  Iniquum 
petas,  nt  sequum  feras,"  is  a  good  rule,  where  a 
man  hath  strength  of  favour :  but  otherwise  a  man 
were  better  rise  in  his  suit;  for  he  that  would 
have  ventured  at  first  to  have  lost  the  suitor,  will 
not,  in  the  conclusion,  lose  both  the  suitor  and  his 
own  former  favour.  Nothing  is  thought  so  easy 
a  request  to  a  great  person,  as  his  letter;  and  yet, 
if  it  be  not  in  a  good  cause,  it  is  so  much  out  of 
his  reputation.  There  are  no  worse  instruments 
than  these  general  contrivers  of  suits ;  for  they 
are  but  a  kind  of  poison  and  infection  to  public 
proceedings. 


>o 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


55 


L.     OF  STUDIES.  - 

STUDIES  serve  for  delight,  for  ornament  and  for 
ability.  Their  chief  use  for  delight,  is  in  private- 
ness  and  retiring;  for. ornament,  is  in,  discou 
and  for  ability,  is^h^^^wi^me^a^^spo^non 
of  business ;  foi^^^^fmen  can  execute,  and  per 
haps  judge  of  particulars,  one  by  one:  but  the 
general  counsels,  and  the  plots  and  marshalling 
of  affairs  come_best  from  those^that  are  learned. 
To  spend  too  much  time  in  studies,  is  sloth ;  to 
use  them  too  much  for  ornament,  is  affectation ; 
to  make  judgment  wnojjy^y  their  rules,  is  the 
[humour  of  a  scholar :  they  perfect  nature,  and 
__are  perfected  by  experience :  for  natural  abilities 
are  like  natural  plants,  .that  need  pruning  by  study; 
and  studies  thegiselxes  do  give  forth^Hirections 
too  much'^tlame,  except  they  he  bounded  in  by 


experience.     U ratty  men  corite'mn  studies,  simple 

^— — '  -ft>UT/vn£M-    <X-T"          ,          . 

men  admire  them,  and  wise  men  use  them ;  for 
they  teach  not  their  own  use ;  (but  that  is  a  wis 
dom  without,  them,  and  above  them,  won  by 
1  observation^  Read  not  to  contradict  and  confute, 
I  nor  to  believe  andltake  for  granted,  nor  to  find  talk 
[  and  discourse,  but  to  weigh  and  considers  tSome 
books  are  to  be  tasted,  others  to  be  swallowed, 
ancTsdme  few  to  fte  chewed  and  digested  \ithat  is, 
some  books  are  to  be  read  only  in  parts ;  others 
to  be  read,  but  not  curiously;  and  some  few  to  be 
read  wholly,  and_wifh  diligence  and   attention. 
Some  books  also  may  be  read  by  deputy,  and  ex 
tracts  made  of  them  by. others;  but  that  would 
be  only  in  the  less  important  arguments,  and  the 
meaner  sort  of  books ;   else  distilled  books  are. 
Tike    common    distilled    waters,   flashy    things! 
/Reading  maketh  a  full  man ;  conference  a  ready 
*man;  and  wnfing"an  exact  n^n^nahd,""th"ererofe, 
if  "a  "man  "write  little,  he~  h'aJ"  need  have  a  great 
memory ;  if  he  confer  little,  he  had  need  have  z 
present  wit :  and  if  he  read  little,  he  had  need 
have  much  cunning,  to  seem  to  know  that  he  doth 
notX  [Histories  make  men  wise ;  poets  witty;  the 
mathematics  subtile;   natural   philosophy  deep; 
moral,  grave ;  logic  and  rhetoric,  able  to  contend ; 
"Abeunt  studia  in  mores;"  nay,  there  is  no  stond 
or  impediment  in  the  wit,  but  may  be  wrought 
out  by  fit  studies :  like  as  diseases  of  the  body 
may  have  appropriate  exercises;  bowling  is  good 
for  the  stone  and  reins,  shooting  for  the  lungs  and 
breast,  gentle  walking  for  the  stomach,  riding  for 
the  head,  and   the  like;    so,  if  a  man's  wit  be 
wandering,  let  him  study  the  mathematics })  for  in 
demonstrations,  if  his  wit  be  called  away  never 
so  little,  he  must  begin  again  ;_if  his  wit  be  m) 
apt  to  distinguish  orfind  differences',  let  him  stud} 
the  schoolmen,  for/^e^rTj^^inint  Be^tores ;' 
if  he  be  n^^Tto"beat  oyerjnatters,  and  to  cal 
upon  one  thingft^proj^r^illiis!ralt^ran6ther,  le 
him  study  the  law^ej^^uia^sT^s^vei'tiefect  of 
the  mind  may  have.A  special  receipt.' 


LI.     OF  FACTION. 

MANY  have  an  opinion  not  wise,  that  for  a 
prince  to  govern  his  estate,  or  for  a  great  person 
r2££ediugs,  accordinglfijLhe  respect 
,  is  a  principal  part  of  policy ;  whereas, 
contrariwise,  the  chiefest  wisdom  is,  either  in 
ordering  those  t^pgs  which  are  general,  and 
wherein  men  of  several  factions  do  nevertheless 
agree,  or  in  dealing  with  correspondence  to  parti 
cular  persons,  one  by  one :  but  I  say  not,  that  the 
consideration  of  factions  is  to  be  neglected.  Mean 
Tien,  in  their  rising,  must  adhere ;  but  great  men, 
;hat  have  strength  in  themselves,  were  better  to 
Tiaintain  themselves  indifferent  and  neutral :  yet 
even  in  beginners,  to  adhere  so  moderately,  as  he 

3  a  man  of  the  one  faction,  which  is  most  pas 
sable  with  the  other,  commonly  giveth  best  way. 
The  lower  and  weaker  faction  is  the  firmer  in  con 
junction  ;  and  it  is  often  seen,  that  a  few  that  are 
stiff,  do  tire  out  a  greater  number  that  are  more 
moderate.  When  one  of  the  factions  is  extin 
guished,  the  remaining  subdivideth ;  as  the  faction 
between  Lucullus  and  the  rest  of  the  nobles  of 
the  senate  (which  they  called  "  optimates")  held 
out  a  while  against  the  faction  of  Pompey  and 
Caesar;  but  when  the  senate's  authority  was  pul 
led  down,  Csesar  and  Pompey  soon  after  brake. 
The  faction  or  party  of  Antonius  and  Octavianus 
Ceesar,  against  Brutus  and  Cassius,  held  out  like 
wise  for  a  time,  but  when  Brutus  and  Cassius 
were  overthrown,  then  soon  after  Antonius  and 
Octavianus  brake  and  subdivided.  These  exam 
ples  are  of  wars,  but  the  same  holdeth  in  private 
factions :  and,  therefore,  those  that  are  seconds  in 
factions,  do  many  times,  when  the  faction  subdi 
videth,  prove  principals;  but  many  times  also 
they  prove  ciphers  and  cashiered  ;  for  many  a 
man's  strength  is  in  opposition;  and  when  that 
faileth,  he  groweth  out  of  use.  It  is  commonly 
seen  that  men  once  placed,  take  in  with  the  con 
trary  faction  to  that  by  which  they  enter :  think 
ing,  belike,  that  they  have  the  first  sure,  and  now 
are  ready  for  a  new  purchase.  The  traitor  in  fac 
tion  lightly  goeth  away  with  it,  for  when  matters 
have  stuck  long  in  balancing,  the  winning  of  some 
one  man  casteth  them,  and  he  getteth  all  the 
thanks.  The  even  carriage  between  two  factions 
proceedeth  not  always  of  moderation,  but  of  a  true- 
ness  to  a  man's  self,  with  end  to  make  use  of  both. 
Certainly,  in  Italy,  they  hold  it  a  little  suspect  in 
popes,  when  they  have  often  in  their  mouth 
"  Padre  commune :"  and  take  it  to  be  a  sign  of 
one  that  meaneth  to  refer  all  to  the  greatness  of 
his  own  house.  Kings  had  need  beware  how 
they  side  themselves,  and  make  themselves  as  of 
a  faction  or  party;  for  leagues  within  the  state 
are  ever  pernicious  to  monarchies  ;  for  they  raise 
an  obligation  paramount  to  obligation  of  sove 
reignty,  and  make  the  king  "  tanquam  unus  ex 


56 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


nobis ;"  as  was  to  be  seen  in  the  league  of  France. 
When  factions  are  carried  too  high  and  too 
violently,  it  is  a  sign  of  weakness  in  princes,  and 
much  to  the  prejudice  both  of  their  authority  and 
business.  The  motions  of  factions  under  kings, 
ought  to  be  like  the  motions,  (as  the  astronomers 
speak,)  of  the  inferior  orbs,  which  may  have  their 
proper  motions,  but  yet  still  ^pquietly  carried  by 
the  higher  motion  of  "  primum  mobile." 

LII.    OF  CEREMONIES  AND  RESPECTS. 

HE  that  is  only  real,  had  need  of  exceeding  great 
parts  of  virtue ;  as  the  stone  hath  need  to  be  rich 
that  is  set  without  foil ;  but  if  a  man  mark  it  well, 
it  is  in  praise  arid  commendation  of  men,  as  it  is 
in  gettings  and  gains  ;  for  the  proverb  is  true 
"That  light  gains  make  heavy  purses;"  for  light 
gains  come  thick,  whereas  great  come  but  now 
and  then :  so  it  is  true,  that  small  matters  win 
great  commendation,  because  they  are  continually 
in  use  and  in  note  :  whereas  the  occasion  of  any 
great  virtue  cometh  but  on  festivals  ;  therefore  it 
doth  much  add  to  a  man's  reputation,  and  is  (as 
Queen  Isabella  said)  like  perpetual  letters  com 
mendatory,  to  have  good  forms ;  to  attain  them, 
it  almost  sufiiceth  not  to  despise  them  ;  for  so  shall 
a  man  observe  them  in  others  ;  and  let  him  trust 
himself  with  the  rest ;  for  if  he  labour  too  much 
to  express  them,  he  shall  loose  their  grace  ;  which 
is  to  be  natural  and  unaffected.  Some  men's  be 
haviour  is  like  a  verse,  wherein  every  syllable  is 
measured ;  how  can  a  man  comprehend  great 
matters,  that  breaketh  his  mind  too  much  to  small 
observations.  Not  to  use  ceremonies  at  all,  is  to 
teach  others  not  to  use  them  again ;  and  so  di 
minish  respect  to  himself;  especially  they  be  not 
to  be  omitted  to  strangers  and  formal  natures ;  but 
the  dwelling  upon  them,  and  exalting  them  above 
the  moon,  is  not  only  tedious,  but  doth  diminish  the 
faith  and  credit  of  him  that  speaks  ;  and,  certainly, 
there  is  a  kind  of  conveying  of  effectual  and  im 
printing  passages  amongst  compliments,  which  is 
of  singular  use,  if  a  man  can  hit  upon  it.  Amongst 
a  man's  peers,  a  man  shall  be  sure  of  familiarity ; 
and  therefore  it  is  good  a  little  to  keep  state : 
amongst  a  man's  inferiors,  one  shall  be  sure  of 
reverence ;  and  therefore  it  is  good  a  little  to  be 
familiar.  He  that  is  too  much  in  any  thing,  so 
that  he  giveth  another  occasion  of  society,  maketh 
himself  cheap.  To  apply  one's  self  to  others,  is 
good ;  so  it  be  with  demonstration,  that  a  man 
doth  it  upon  regard,  and  not  upon  facility.  It  i 
a  good  precept,  generally  in  seconding  another, 
yet  to  add  somewhat  of  one's  own :  as  if  you  will 
grant  his  opinion,  let  it  be  with  some  distinction; 
if  you  will  follow  his  motion,  let  it  be  with  con 
dition  ;  if  you  allow  his  counsel,  let  it  be  with 
alleging  further  reason.  Men  had  need  beware 
how  they  be  too  perfect  in  compliments ;  for  be 
they  never  so  sufficient  otherwise,  their  enviers 


will  be  sure  to  give  them  that  attribute,  to  the  dis 
advantage  of  their  greater  virtues.  It  is  loss  also 
n  business  to  be  too  full  of  respects,  or  to  be  too 
curious  in  observing  times  and  opportunities.  So- 
omon  saith,  "  He  that  considereth  the  wind  shall 
lot  sow,  and  he  that  looketh  to  the  clouds  shall 
lot  reap."  A  wise  man  will  make  more  oppor 
tunities  than  he  finds.  Men's  behaviour  should 
be  like  their  apparel,  not  too  strait  or  point  de 
vice,  but  free  for«exercise  or  motion. 

LIII.     OF  PRAISE. 

PRAISE  is  the  reflection  of  virtue,  but  it  is  as 
the  glass,  or  body,  which  giveth  the  reflection ; 
if  it  be  from  the  common  people,  it  is  commonly 
false  and  nought,  and  rather  followeth  vain  per 
sons  than  virtuous  :  for  the  common  people  under 
stand  not  many  excellent  virtues :  the  lowest  vir 
tues  draw  praise  from  them,  the  middle  virtues 
work  in  them  astonishment  or  admiration ;  but  of 
the  highest  virtues  they  have  no  sense  or  perceiv 
ing  at  all ;  but  shows  and  "  species  virtutibus 
similes,"  serve  best  with  them.  Certainly,  fame 
is  like  a  river,  that  beareth  up  things  light  and 
swollen, 'and  drowns  things  weighty  and  solid; 
but  if  persons  of  quality  and  judgment  concur, 
then  it  is,  (as  the  Scripture  saith,)  "  Nomen 
bonum  instar  unguenti  fra^rantis ;"  it  filleth  all 
round  about,  and  will  not  easily  away ;  for  fhe 
odours  of  ointments  are  more  durable  than  those 
of  flowers.  There  be  "so  many  false  points  of 
praise,  that  a  man  may  justly  hold  it  a  suspect. 
Some  praises  proceed  merely  of  flattery ;  and  9 
he  be  an  ordinary  flatterer,  he  will  have  certain 
common  attributes,  which  may  serve  every  man ;' 
if  he  be  a  cunning  flatterer,  he  will  follow  the 
arch-flatterer,  which  is  a  man's  self,  and  wherein 
a  man  thinketh  best  of  himself,  therein  the  flat 
terer  will  uphold  him  most :  but  if  he  be  an  im 
pudent  flatterer,  look  wherein  a  man  is  conscious 
to  himself  that  he  is  most  defective,  and  is  most 
out  of  countenance  in  himself,  that  will  the  flat 
terer  entitle  him  to,  perforce,  "spretaconscientia." 
Some  praises  come  of  good  wishes  and  respects, 
which  is  a  form  due  in  civility  to  kings  and  great 
persons,  "  laudando  praecipere ;"  when  by  telling 
men  what  they  are,  they  represent  to  them  what 
they  should  be :  some  men  are  praised  maliciously 
to  their  hurt,  thereby  to  stir  envy  and  jealousy 
towards  them ;  "  pessimum  genus  inimicorum 
laudantium ;"  insomuch  as  it  was  a  proverb 
amongst  the  Grecians,  that,  k'  he  that  was  praised 
to.  his  hurt,  should  have  a  push  rise  upon  his 
nose;"  as  we  say,  that  a  blister  will  rise  upon 
one's  tongue  that  tells  a  lie;  certainly,  moderate 
praise,  used  with  opportunity,  and  not  vulgar,  is 
that  which  doth  the  good.  Solomon  saith,  "  He 
that  praiseth  his  friend  aloud,  rising  early,  it  shall 
be  to  him  no  better  than  a  curse."  Too  much 
magnifying  of  man  or  matter  doth  irritate  contra- 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


57 


diction,  and  procure  envy  and  scorn.  To  praise 
a  man's  self  cannot  be  decent,  except  it  be  in  rare 
cases ;  but  to  praise  a  man's  office  or  profession, 
he  may  do  it  with  good  grace,  and  with  a  kind  of 
magnanimity.  The  cardinals  of  Rome,  which 
are  theologues,  and  friars,  and  schoolmen,  have  a 
phrase  of  notable  contempt  and  scorn  towards 
civil  business,  for  they  call  all  temporal  business 
of  wars,  embassages,  judicature,  and  other  em 
ployments,  sirrbirie,  which  is  under-sheriffries,  as 
if  they  were  but  matters  for  under-sheriffs  and 
catchpoles;  though  many  times  those  under- 
sheriffries  do  more  good  than  their  high  specula 
tions.  St.  Paul,  when  he  boasts  of  himself,  he 
doth  oft  interlace,  "I  speak  like  a  fool;"  but 
speaking  of  his  calling,  he  saith,  "magnificabo 
apostolatum  meum.'1 

LIV.     OF  VAINGLORY. 

IT  was  prettily  devised  of  ^Esop,  the  fly  sat 
upon  the  axletree  of  the  chariot  wheel,  and  said, 
"  What  a  dust  do  I  raise  !"  So  are  there  some 
vain  persons,  that,  whatsoever  goeth  alone,  or 
moveth  upon  greater  means,  if  they  have  never  so 
little  hand  in  it,  they  think  it  is  they  that  carry  it. 
They  that  are  glorious  must  needs  be  factious  ;  for 
all  bravery  stands  upon  comparisons.  They  must 
needs  be  violent  to  make  good  their  own  vaunts ; 
neither  can  they  be  secret,  and  therefore  not  effec 
tual  ;  but  according  to  the  French  proverb,  "  beaif- 
coup  de  bruit,  peu  de  fruit;"  "much  bruit,  little 
fruit."  Yet,  certainly,  there  is  use  of  this  quality 
in  civil  affairs  :  where  there  is  an  opinion  and  fame 
to  be  created,  either  of  virtue  or  greatness,  these 
men  are  good  trumpeters.  Again,  as  Titus  Livius 
noteth,  in  the  case  of  Antiochus  and  the  ^Etolians, 
there  are  sometimes  great  effects  of  cross  lies;  as 
if  a  man  that  negotiates  between  two  princes,  to 
draw  them  to  join  in  a  war  against  the  third,  doth 
extol  the  forces  of  either  of  them  above  measure, 
the  one  to  the  other :  and  sometimes  he  that  deals 
between  man  and  man,  raiseth  his  own  credit 
with  both,  by  pretending  greater  interest  than  he 
hath  in  either :  and  in  these,  and  the  like  kinds, 
it  often  falls  out,  that  something  is  produced  of 
nothing;  for  lies  are  sufficient  to  breed  opinion, 
and  opinion  brings  on  substance.  In  military 
commanders  and  soldiers,  vainglory  is  an  essen 
tial  point;  for  as  iron  sharpens  iron,  so  by  glory, 
one  courage  sharpeneth  another.  In  cases  of  great 
enterprise  upon  charge  and  adventure,  a  composi 
tion  of  glorious  natures  doth  put  life  into  business ; 
and  those  that  are  of  solid  and  sober  natures,  have 
more  of  the  ballast  than  of  the  sail.  In  fame  of 
learning  the  flight  will  be  slow  without  some 
feathers  of  ostentation:  "  Qui  de  contemnenda 
gloria,  libros  scribunt,  nomen  suum  inscribunt." 
Socrates,  Aristotle,  Galen,  were  men  full  of  osten 
tation:  certainly,  vainglory  helpeth  to  perpetuate 
a  man's  memory;  and  virtue  was  never  so  be- 

VOL.  I.— 8 


holden  to  human  nature,  as  it  received  its  due  at 
the  second  hand.  Neither  had  the  fame  of  Cicero, 
Seneca,  Plinius  Secundus,  borne  her  age  so  well 
if  it  had  not  been  joined  with  some  vanity  in  them 
selves  ;  like  unto  varnish,  that  makes  ceilings  not 
only  shine,  but  last.  But  all  this  while,  when  I 
speak  of  vainglory,  I  mean  not  of  that  property 
that  Tacitus  doth  attribute  to  Mucianus,  "  Om 
nium,  quae  dixerat  feceratque,  arte  quadam  osten- 
tator:"  for  that  proceeds  not  of  vanity,  but  of 
natural  magnanimity  and  discretion ;  and,  in  some 
persons,  is  not  only  comely,  but  gracious :  for 
excusations,  cessions,  modesty  itself,  well  govern 
ed,  are  but  arts  of  ostentation ;  and  amongst  those 
arts  there  is  none  better  than  that  which  Plinius 
Secundus  speaketh  of,  which  is  to  be  liberal  of 
praise  and  commendation  to  others,  in  that  where 
in  a  man's  self  hath  any  perfection :  for,  saith 
Pliny,  very  wittily,  "  In  commending  another  you 
do  yourself  right;"  for  he  that  you  commend  is 
either  superior  to  you  in  that  you  commend,  or 
inferior;  if  he  be  inferior,  if  he  be  to  be  com 
mended,  you  much  more;  if  he  be  superior,  if  he 
be  not  to  be  commended,  you  much  less.  Glori 
ous  men  are  the  scorn  of  wise  men,  the  admira 
tion  of  fools,  the  idols  of  parasites,  and  the  slaves 
of  their  own  vaunts. 

LV.     OF  HONOUR  AND  REPUTATION. 

THE  winning  of  honour  is  but  the  revealing  of 
a  man's  virtue  and  worth  without  disadvantage ; 
for  some  in  their  actions  do  woo  and  affect  honour 
and  reputation;  which  sort  of  men  are  commonly 
much  talked  of,  but  inwardly  little  admired :  and 
some,  contrariwise,  darken  their  virtue  in  the  show 
of  it;  so  as  they  be  undervalued  in  opinion.  If 
a  man  perform  that  which  hath  not  been  attempted 
before,  or  attempted  and  given  over,  or  hath  been 
achieved,  but  not  with  so  good  circumstance,  he 
shall  purchase  more  honour  than  by  affecting  a 
matter  of  greater  difficulty,  or  virtue,  wherein  he 
is  but  a  follower.  If  a  man  so  temper  his  actions, 
as  in  some  one  of  them,  he  doth  content  every  fac 
tion  or  combination  of  people,  the  music  will  be  the 
fuller.  A  man  is  an  ill  husband  of  his  honour  that 
entereth  into  any  action,  the  failing  wherein  may 
disgrace  him  more  than  the  carrying  of  it  through 
can  honour  him.  Honour  that  is  gained  and  bro 
ken  upon  another  hath  the  quickest  reflection,  like 
diamonds  cut  with  facets  ;  and,  therefore,  let  a  man 
contend  to  excel  any  competitors  of  his  in  honour, 
in  outshooting  them,  if  he  can,  in  their  own  bow. 
Discreet  followers  and  servants  help  much  to 
reputation  .••"Omnis  fama  a  domesticis  emanat." 
Envy,  which  is  the  canker  of  honour,  is  best  ex 
tinguished,  by  declaring  a  man's  self  in  his  ends, 
rather  to  seek  merit  than  fame :  and  by  attributing 
a  man's  successes  rather  to  divine  Providence  and 
felicity,  than  to  his  own  virtue  or  policy.  The 
true  marshalling  of  the  degrees  of  sovereign 


58 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


honour  are  these:  in  the  first  place  are  "condi- 
tores  imperiorum,"  founders  of  states  and  common 
wealths;  such  as, were  Romulus,  Cyrus,  Caesar, 
Ottoman,  Ismael :  in  the  second  place  are  "  legis- 
latores,"  lawgivers ;  which  are  also  called  second 
founders,  or  "  perpetui  principes,"  because  they 
govern  by  their  ordinances  after  they  are  gone ; 
such  were  Lycurgus,  Solon,  Justinian,  Edgar, 
Alphonsus  of  Castile  the  Wise,  that  made  the 
"  Siete  partidas  :"  in  the  third  place  are  "  libera- 
tores,"  or  "  salvatores,"  such  as  compound  the 
long  miseries  of  civil  wars,  or  deliver  their  coun 
tries  from  servitude  of  strangers  or  tyrants ;  as 
Augustus  Caesar,  Vespasianus,  Aurelianus,  Theo- 
doricus,  King  Henry  the  Seventh  of  England, 
King  Henry  the  Fourth  of  France :  in  the  fourth 
place  are  "  propagatores,"  or  "  propugnatores  im- 
perii,"  such  as  in  honourable  wars  enlarge  their 
territories,  or  make  noble  defence  against  invaders ; 
and,  in  the  last  place,  are  "  patres  patriae,"  which 
reign  justly,  and  make  the  times  good  wherein 
they  live;  both  which  last  kinds  need  no  exam 
ples,  they  are  in  such  number.  Degrees  of  honour 
in  subjects  are,  first,  "participes  curarum,"  those 
upon  whom  princes  do  discharge  the  greatest 
weight  of  their  affairs ;  their  right  hands,  as  we 
call  them  :  the  next  are  "  duces  belli,"  great  lead 
ers  ;  such  as  are  princes'  lieutenants,  and  do  them 
notable  services  in  the  wars :  the  third  are  '^gra- 
tiosi,"  favourites ;  such  as  exceed  not  tl)jsxscant- 
ling,  to  be  solace  to  the  sovereign,  anta  harmless 
to  the  people :  and  the  fourth,  "  negotiis  pares ;" 
such  as  have  great  places  under  princes,  and 
execute  their  places  with  sufficiency.  There  is  an 
honour,  likewise,  which  may  be  ranked  amongst 
the  greatest,  which  happeneth  rarely ;  that  is,  of 
such  as  sacrifice  themselves  to  death  or  danger 
for  the  good  of  their  country ;  as  was  M.  Regu- 
l-us,  and  the  two  Decii. 

LVI.     OF  JUDICATURE. 

JUDGES  ought  to  remember  that  their  office  is 
"jus  dicere,"  and  not  "jus  dare,"  to  interpret 
law,  and  not  to  make  law,  or  give  law ;  else  will 
it  be  like  the  authority  claimed  by  the  church  of 
Rome,  which  under  pretext  of  exposition  of  Scrip 
ture,  doth  not  stick  to  add  and  alter,  and  to  pro 
nounce  that  which  they  do  not  find,  and  by  show 
of  antiquity  to  introduce  novelty.  Judges  ought 
to  be  more  learned  than  witty,  more  reverend  than 
plausible,  and  more  advised  than  confident.  Above 
all  things,  integrity  is  their  portion  and  proper 
virtue.  "  Cursed  (saith  the  law)  is  he  that  re- 
moveth  the  landmark."  The  mislayer  of  a  mere 
stone  is  to  blame;  but  it  is  the  unjust  judge 
that  is  the  capital  remover  of  landmark's,  when  he 
defineth  amiss  of  lands  and  property.  One  foul 
sentence  doth  more  hurt  than  many  foul  examples; 
for  these  do  but  corrupt  the  stream,  the  other 
corrupteth  the  fountain ;  so  saith  Solomon,  "Fons 


turbatus,  et  vena  corrupta  est  Justus  cadens  in  causd 
sua  coram  adversario."  The  office  of  judges  may 
have  reference  unto  the  parties  that  sue,  unto  the 
advocates  that  plead,  unto  the  clerks  and  ministers 
of  justice  underneath  them,  and  to  the  sovereign 
or  state  above  them. 

First,  for  the  causes  or  parties  that  sue.  "  There 
be  (saith  the  Scripture)  that  turn  judgment  into 
wormwood  ;"  and  surely  there  be,  also,  that  turn 
it  into  vinegar;  for  injustice  maketh  it  bitter,  and 
delays  make  it  sour.  The  principal  duty  of  a 
judge  is,  to  suppress  force  and  fraud ;  whereof 
force  is  the  more  pernicious  when  it  is  open,  and 
fraud  when  it  is  close  and  disguised.  Add  thereto 
contentious  suits,  which  ought  to  be  spewed  out, 
as  the  surfeit  of  courts.  A  judge  ought  to  prepare 
his  way  to  a  just  sentence,  as  God  useth  to  prepare 
his  way,  by  raising  valleys  and  taking  down  hills  : 
so  when  there  appeareth  on  either  side  an  high 
hand,  violent  prosecution,  cunning  advantages 
taken,  combination,  power,  great  counsel,  then  is 
the  virtue  of  a  judge  seen  to  make  inequality 
equal;  that  he  may  plant  his  judgment  as  upon 
an  even  ground.  "  Qui  fortiter  emungit,  elicit 
sanguinem;"  and  where  the  winepress  is  hard 
wrought,  it  yields  a  harsh  wine  that  tastes  of  the 
grape-stone.  Judges  must  beware  of  hard  con 
structions,  and  strained  inferences,  for  there  is  no 
worse  torture  than  the  torture  of  laws  :  especially 
in  case  of  laws  penal,  they  ought  to  have  care  that 
that  which  was  meant  for  terror  be  not  turned  into 
rigour ;  and  that  they  bring  not  upon  the  people  that 
shower  whereof  the  Scripture  speaketh,  "  Pluet 
super  eos  laqueos ;"  for  penal  laws  pressed  are  a 
shower  of  snares  upon  the  people ;  therefore  let 
penal  laws,  if  they  have  been  sleepers  of  long,  or 
if  they  be  grown  unfit  for  the  present  time,  be  by 
wise  judges  confined  in  the  execution ;  "  Judicis 
officium  est,  ut  res,  ita  tempora  rerum,"  &c.  In 
causes  of  life  and  death,  judges  ought  (as  far  as 
the  law  permitteth)  in  justice  to  remember  mercy, 
and  to  cast  a  severe  eye  upon  the  example,  but  a 
merciful  eye  upon  the  person. 

Secondly,  for  the  advocates  and  counsel  that 
plead.  Patience  and  gravity  of  hearing  is  an  essen 
tial  part  of  justice;  and  an  over-speaking  judge 
is  no  well-tuned  cymbal.  It  is  no  grace  to  a 
judge  first  to  find  that  which  he  might  have  heard 
indue  time  from  the  bar;  or  to  show  quickness 
of  conceit  in  cutting  off  evidence  or  counsel  too 
short,  or  to  prevent  information  by  questions, 
though  pertinent.  The  parts  of  a  judge  in  hearing 
are  four ;  to  direct  the  evidence  ;  to  moderate 
length,  repetition,  or  impertinency  of  speech  ;  to  re 
capitulate,  select,  and  collate  the  material  points 
of  that  which  hath  been  said,  and  to  give  the  rule 
or  sentence.  Whatsoever  is  above  these  is  too 
much,  and  proceedeth  either  of  glory  and  willing 
ness  to  speak,  or  of  impatience  to  hear,  or  of  short 
ness  of  memory,  or  of  want  of  a  staid  and  equal 
attention.  It  is  a  strange  thing  to  see  that  the 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


59 


boldness  of  advocates  should  prevail  with  judges ; 
whereas  they  should  imitate  God,  in  whose  seat 
they  sit,  who  represseth  the  presumptuous,  and 
giveth  grace  to  the  modest :  but  it  is  more  strange, 
that  judges  should  have  noted  favourites,  which 
cannot  but  cause  multiplication  of  fees,  and  sus 
picion  of  by-ways.  There  is  due  from  the  judge 
to  the  advocate  some  commendation  and  gracing, 
where  causes  are  well  handled  and  fair  pleaded, 
especially  towards  the  side  which  obtaineth  not; 
for  that  upholds  in  the  client  the  reputation  of  his 
counsel,  and  beats  down  in  him  the  conceit  of  his 
cause.  There  is  likewise  due  to  the  public  a  civil 
reprehension  of  advocates,  where  there  appeareth 
cunning  counsel,  gross  neglect,  slight  information, 
indiscreet  pressing,  or  an  over-bold  defence  ;  and 
let  not  the  counsel  at  the  bar  chop  with  the  judge, 
nor  wind  himself  into  the  handling  of  the  cause 
anew  after  the  judge  hath  declared  his  sentence  ; 
but,  on  the  other  side,  let  not  the  judge  meet  the 
cause  halfway,  nor  give  occasion  to  the  party  to 
say,  his  counsel  or  proofs  were  not  heard. 

Thirdly,  for  that  that  concern  clerks  and  minis 
ters.  The  place  of  justice  is  an  hallowed  place  ; 
and  therefore  not  only  the  bench  but  the  foot-pace 
and  precincts,  and  purprise  thereof  ought  to  be 
preserved  without  scandal  and  corruption ;  for, 
certainly,  "  Grapes  (as  the  Scripture  saith)  will 
not  be  gathered  of  thorns  or  thistles  ;"  neither  can 
justice  yield  her  fruit  with  sweetness  amongst  the 
briers  and  brambles  of  catching  and  polling  clerks 
and  ministers.  The  attendance  of  courts  is  sub 
ject  to  four  bad  instruments  ;  first,  certain  persons 
that  are  sowers  of  suits,  which  make  the  court 
swell,  and  the  country  pine  :  the  second  sort  is  of 
those  that  engage  courts  in  quarrels  of  jurisdiction, 
and  are  not  truly  "  amici  curia?,"  but  "parasiti 
curias,"  in  puffing  a  court  up  beyond  her  bounds  for 
their  own  scraps  and  advantage  :  the  third  sort  is 
of  those  that  may  be  accounted  the  left  hands  of 
courts  :  persons  that  are  full  of  nimble  and  sinister 
tricks  and  shifts,  whereby  they  pervert  the  plain 
and  direct  courses  of  courts,  and  bring  justice  into 
oblique  lines  and  labyrinths  :  and  the  fourth  is  the 
poller  and  exacter  of  fees ;  which  justifies  the 
common  resemblance  of  the  courts  of  justice  to  the 
bush,  whereunto,  while  the  sheep  flies  for  defence 
in  weather,  he  is  sure  to  loose  part  of  his  fleece. 
On  the  other  side,  an  ancient  clerk,  skilful  in  pre 
cedents,  wary  in  proceeding,  and  understanding 
in  the  business  of  the  court,  is  an  excellent  finger 
of  the  court,  and  doth  many  times  point  the  way 
to  the  judge  himself.  . 

Fourthly,  for  that  which  may  concern  the 
sovereign  and  estate.  Judges  ought,  above  all, 
to  remember  the  conclusion  of  the  Roman  twelve 
tables,  "  Salus  populi  suprema  lex ;"  and  to  know 
that  laws,  except  they  be  in  order  to  that  end,  are 
but  things  captious,  and  oracles  not  well  inspired  : 
therefore  it  is  an  happy  thing  in  a  state,  when 
kings  and  states  do  often  consult  with  judges;  and 


again,  when  judges  do  often  consult  with  the  king 
and  state :  the  one,  when  there  is  matter  of  law 
intervenient  in  business  of  state;  the  other,  when 
there  is  some  consideration  of  state  intervenient 
in  matter  of  law ;  for  many  times  the  things  de 
duced  to  judgment  may  be  "  meum"  and  "  tuum," 
when  the  reason  and  consequence  thereof  may 
trench  to  point  of  estate :  I  call  matter  of  estate, 
not  only  the  parts  of  sovereignty,  but  whatsoever 
introduceth  any  great  alteration,  or  dangerous 
precedent;  or  concerneth  manifestly  any  great 
portion  of  people :  and  let  no  man  weakly  con 
ceive  that  just  laws,  and  true  policy,  have  any 
antipathy ;  for  they  are  like  the  spirits  and  sinews, 
that  one  moves  with  the  other.  Let  judges  also 
remember  that  Solomon's  throne  was  supported 
by  lions  on  both  sides :  let  them  be  lions,  but  yet 
lions  under  the  throne :  being  circumspect,  that 
they  do  not  check  or  oppose  any  points  of  sove 
reignty.  Let  not  judges  also  be  so  ignorant  of 
their  own  right,  as  to  think  there  is  not  left  to 
them,  as  a  principal  part  of  their  office,  a  wise  use 
and  application  of  laws ;  for  they  may  remember 
what  the  apostle  saith  of  a  greater  law  than  theirs : 
"  Nos  scimus  quia  lex  bona  est,  modo  quis  ea 
utatur  legitime." 

LVII.     OF  ANGER. 

To  seek  to  extinguish  anger  utterly  is  but  a 
bravery  of  the  Stoics.  We  have  better  oracles  : 
"  Be  angry,  but  sin  not :  let  not  the  sun  go  down 
upon  your  anger."  Anger  must  be  limited  and 
confined  both  in  race  and  in  time.  We  will  first 
speak  how  the  natural  inclination  and  habit  "to  be 
angry,"  may  be  attempted  and  calmed;  secondly, 
how  the  particular  motions  of  anger  may  be  re 
pressed,  or,  at  least,  refrained  from  doing  mischief; 
thirdly,  how  to  raise  anger,  or  appease  anger  hi 
another. 

For  the  first,  there  is  no  other  way  but  to  me 
ditate  and  ruminate  well  upon  the  effects  of  anger, 
how  it  troubles  man's  life :  and  the  best  time  tc 
do  this,  is  to  look  back  upon  anger  when  the  fit 
is  thoroughly  over.  Seneca  saith  well,  "Thai 
anger  is  like  ruin,  which  breaks  itself  upon  that 
it  falls."  The  Scripture  exhorteth  us  "To  pos 
sess  our  souls  in  patience ;"  whosoever  is  out  of 
patience,  is  out  of  possession  of  his  soul.  Men 
must  not  turn  bees  ; 


"animasque  in  vulncre  ponunt." 


Anger  is  certainly  a  kind  of  baseness  ;  as  it  ap 
pears  well  in  the  weakness  of  those  subjects  in 
whom  it  reigns,  children,  women,  old  folks,  sick 
folks.  Only  men  must  beware  that  they  carry 
their  anger  rather  with  scorn  than  with  fear ;  so 
that  they  may  seem  rather  to  be  above  the  injury 
than  below  it ;  which  is  a  thing  easily  done,  if  a 
man  will  give  law  to  himself  in  it. 
For  the  second  point,  the  causes  and  motives 


60 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


of  anger  are  chiefly  three ;  first,  to  be  too  sensible 
of  hurt ;  for  no  man  is  angry  that  feels  not  him 
self  hurt ;  and,  therefore,  tender  and  delicate  per 
sons  must  needs  be  oft  angry,  they  have  so  many 
things  to  trouble  them,  which  more  robust  natures 
have  little  sense  of:  the  next  is,  the  apprehension 
and  construction  of  the  injury  offered,  TcTbe,  in 
the  circumstances  thereof,  full  of  contempt :  for 
contempt  is  that  which  putteth  an  edge  upon 
anger,  as  much,  or  more,  than  the  hurt  itself;  and, 
therefore,  when  men  are  ingenious  in  picking  out 
circumstances  of  contempt,  they  do  kindle  their 
anger  much:  lastly,  opinion  of  the  touch  of  a 
man's  reputation  doth  multiply  and  sharpen  anger ; 
wherein  the  remedy  is,  that  a  man  should  have, 
as  Consalvo  was  wont  to  say,  "telam  honoris 
crassiorem."  But  in  all  refrainings  of  anger,  it  is 
the  best  remedy  to  win  time,  and  to  make  a  man's 
self  believe  that  the  opportunity  of  his  revenge 
is  not  yet  come  ;  but  that  he  foresees  a  time  for  it, 
and  so  to  still  himself  in  the  mean  time,  and  re 
serve  it. 

To  contain  anger  from  mischief,  though  it  take 
hold  of  a  man,  there  be  two  things  whereof  you 
must  have  special  caution :  the  one,  of  extreme 
bitterness  of  words,  especially  if  they  be  aculeate 
and  proper;  for  "communia  maledicta"  are 
nothing  so  much  ;  and  again,  that  in  anger  a  man 
reveal  no  secrets ;  for  that  makes  him  not  fit  for 
society :  the  other,  that  you  do  not  peremptorily 
break  off  in  any  business  in  a  fit  of  anger ;  but 
howsoever  you  show  bitterness,  do  not  act  any 
thing  that  is  not  revocable. 

''  For  raising  and  appeasing  anger  in  another,  it 
is  done  chiefly  by  choosing  of  times,  when  men 
•are  frowardestand  worst  disposed  to  incense  them  ; 
again,  by  gathering  (as  was  touched  before)  all 
that  you  can  find  out  to  aggravate  the  contempt : 
and  the  two  remedies  are  by  the  contraries  :  the 
former  to  take  good  times,  when  first  to  relate  to  a 
man  an  angry  business,  for  the  first  impression  is 
much ;  and  the  other  is,  to  sever,  as  much  as  may 
be.  the  construction  of  the  injury  from  the  point 
of  contempt ;  imputing  it  to  misunderstanding, 
fear,  passion,  or  what  you  will. 

LVIII.     OF  VICISSITUDE  OF  THINGS. 

SOLOMON  saith,  "  There  is  no  new  thing  upon  the 
earth ;"  so  that  as  Plato  had  an  imagination  that 
•all  knowledge  was  but  remembrance ;  so  Solomon 
giveth  his  sentence,  "  That  all  novelty  is  but  ob 
livion:"  whereby  you  may  see,  that  the  river  of 
Lethe  runneth  as  well  above  ground  as  below. 
There  is  an  abstruse  astrologer  that  saith,  if  it  were 
not  for  two  things  that  are  constant,  (the  one  is, 
that  the  fixed  stars  ever  stand  at  like  distance  one 
from  another,  and  never  come  nearer  together,  nor 
go  further  asunder ;  the  other,  that  the  diurnal 
motion  perpetually  keepeth  time,)  no  individual 
would  last  one  moment:  certain  it  is,  that  the 


matter  is  in  a  perpetual  flux,  and  never  at  a  stay  ' 
The  great  winding-sheets  that  bury  all  things  in 
oblivion  are  two  ;  deluges  and  earthquakes.  As 
for  conflagrations  and  great  droughts,  they  do  not 
merely  dispeople,  but  destroy.  Phaeton's  car  went 
but  a  day  :  and  the  three  years'  drought  in  the  time 
of  Elias,  was  but  particular,  and  left  people  alive. 
As  for  the  great  burnings  by  lightnings,  which  are 
often  in  the  West  Indies,  they  are  but  narrow  ;  but 
in  the  other  two  destructions,  by  deluge  and  earth 
quake,  it  is  further  to  be  noted,  that  the  remnant 
of  people  which  happen  to  be  reserved,  are  com 
monly  ignorant  and  mountainous  people,  that  can 
give  no  account  of  the  time  past;  so  that  the  ob 
livion  is  all  one  as  if  none  had  been  left.  If  you 
consider  well  of  the  people  of  the  West  Indies,  it 
is  very  probable  that  they  are  a  newer  or  a  younger 
people  than  the  people  of  the  old  world  ;  and  it  is 
much  more  likely  that  the  destruction  that  hath 
heretofore  been  there,  was  not  by  earthquakes,  (as 
the  ./Egyptian  priest  told  Solon,  concerning  the 
island  of  Atlantis,  that  it  was  swallowed  by  an 
earthquake.)  but  rather,  that,  it  was  desolate^  by 
a  particular  deluge  :  for  earthquakes  are  seldom  in 
those  parts  :  but  on  the  other  side,  they  have  such 
pouring  rivers,  as  the  rivers  of  Asia,  and  Africa, 
and  Europe,  are  but  brooks  to  them.  Their  Andes 
likewise,  or  mountains,  are  far  higher  than  those 
with  us  ;  whereby  it  seems,  that,  the  remnants  of 
generations  of  men  were  in  such  a  particular  de 
luge  saved.  As  for  the  observation  that  Machiavel 
hath,  that  the  jealousy  of  sects  doth  much  extin 
guish  the  memory  of  things ;  traducing  Gregory 
the  Great,  that  he  did  what  in  him  lay  to  extin 
guish  all  heathen  antiquities  ;  I  do  not  find  that 
those  zeals  do  any  great  effects,  nor  last  long;  as 
it  appeared  in  the  succession  of  Sabinian,  who  did 
revive  the  former  antiquities. 

The  vicissitude,  or  mutations,  in  the  superior 
globe,  are  no  fit  matter  for  this  present  argument. 
It  may  be  Plato's  great  year,  if  the  world  should 
last  so  long,  would  have  some  effect,  not  in  re 
newing  the  state  of  like  individuals,  (for  that  is 
the  fume  of  those  that  conceive  the  celestial  bodies 
have  more  accurate  influences  upon  these  things 
below,  than  indeed  they  have,)  but  in  gross. 
Comets,  out  of  question,  have  likewise  power  and 
effect  over  the  gross  and  mass  of  things  ;  but  they 
are  rather  gazed  upon,  and  waited  upon  in  their 
|  journey,  than  wisely  observed  in  their  effects  ;  es- 
I  pecially  in  their  respective  effects ;  that  is,  what 
kind  of  comet  for  magnitude,  colour,  version  of 
the  beams,  placing  in  the  region  of  heaven,  or  last 
ing,  produceth  what  kind  of  effects. 

There  is  a  toy,  which  I  have  heard,  and  I  would 
not  have  it  given  over,  but  waited  upon  a  little. 
They  say  it  is  observed  in  the  Low  Countries,  (I 
know  not  in  what  part)  that  every  five  and  thirty 
years  the  same  kind  and  suit  of  years  and  wea 
thers  comes  about  again ;  as  great  frosts,  great 
wet,  great  droughts,  warm  winters,  summers  with 


ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


61 


little  heat,  and  the  like,  and  they  call  it  the 
prime :  it  is  a  thing  I  do  the  rather  mention,  be 
cause,  computing  backwards,  I  have  found  some 
concurrence. 

But  to  leave  these  points  of  nature,  and  to 
come  to  men.  The  greatest  vicissitude  of  things 
amongst  men,  is  the  vicissitude  of  sects  and  reli 
gions  ;  for  those  orbs  rule  in  men's  minds  most. 
The  true  religion  is  built  upon  the  rock;  the  rest 
are  tossed  upon  the  waves  of  time.  To  speak, 
therefore,  of  the  causes  of  new  sects,  and  to  give 
some  counsel  concerning  them,  as  far  as  the 
weakness  of  human  judgment  can  give  stay  to 
so  great  revolutions. 

When  the  religion  formerly  received  is  rent  by 
discords,  and  when  the  holiness  of  the  professors 
of  religion  is  decayed  and  full  of  scandal,  and 
withal  the  times  be  stupid,  ignorant,  and  barba 
rous,  you  may  doubt  the  springing  up  of  a  new 
sect :  if  then  also  there  should  arise  any  extrava 
gant  and  strange  spirit  to  make  himself  author 
thereof;  all  which  points  held  when  Mahomet 
published  his  law.  If  a  new  sect  have  not  two 
properties,  fear  it  not,  for  it  will  not  spread  :  the 
one  is  the  supplanting,  or  the  opposing  of  author 
ity  established  ;  for  nothing  is  more  popular  than 
that;  the  other  is  the -giving  license  to  pleasures 
and  a  voluptuous  life:  for  as  for  speculative  here 
sies,  (such  as  were  in  ancient  times  the  Arians, 
and  now  the  Arminians,)  though  they  work  mighti 
ly  upon  men's  wits,  yet  they  do  not  produce  any 
great  alterations  in  states ;  except  it  be  by  the 
help  of  civil  occasions.  There  be  three  manner 
of  plantations  of  new  sects ;  by  the  power  of 
signs  and  miracles ;  by  the  eloquence  and  wis 
dom  of  speech  and  persuasion  ;  and  by  the  sword. 
For  martyrdoms,  I  reckon  them  amongst  mira 
cles,  because  they  seem  to  exceed  the  strength  of 
human  nature :  and  I  may  do  the  like  of  super 
lative  and  admirable  holiness  of  life.  Surely 
there  is  no  better  way  to  stop  the  rising  of  new 
sects  and  schisms,  than  to  reform  abuses;  to 
compound  the  smaller  differences;  to  proceed 
mildly,  and  not  with  sanguinary  persecutions ; 
and  rather  to  take  off  the  principal  authors,  by 
winning  and  advancing  them,  than  to  enrage 
them  by  violence  and  bitterness. 

The  changes  and  vicissitude  in  wars  are  many, 
but  chiefly  in  three  things  ;  in  the  seats,  or  stages 
of  the  war,  in  the  weapons,  and  in  the  manner 
of  the  conduct.  Wars,  in  ancient  time,  seemed 
more  to  move  from  east  to  west ;  for  the  Persians, 
Assyrians,  Arabians,  Tartars,  (which  were  the  in 
vaders.)  were  all  eastern  people.  It  is  true,  the 
Gauls  were  western,  but  we  read  but  of  two  incur 
sions  of  theirs  ;  the  one  to  Gallo-Greecia,  the  other 
to  Rome  :  but  east  and  west  have  no  certain  points 
of  heaven;  and  no  more  have  the  wars,  either 
from  the  east  or  west,  any  certainty  of  observa 
tion:  but  north  and  south  are  fixed;  and  it  hath 
seldom  or  never  been  seen  that  the  far  southern 


people  have  invaded  the  northern,  but  contrari 
wise;  whereby  it  is  manifest  that  the  northern 
tract  of  the  world  is  in  nature  the  more  martial 
region :  be  it  in  respect  of  the  stars  of  that  hemi 
sphere,  or  of  the  great  continents  that  are  upon  the 
north ;  whereas  the  south  part,  for  aught  that  is 
known,  is  almost  all  sea ;  or,  (which  is  most  ap- 1 
parent,)  of  the  cold  of  the  northern  parts,  which 
is  that,  which,  without  aid  of  discipline,  doth 
make  the  bodies  hardest,  and  the  courage  warmest. 

Upon  the  breaking  and  shivering  of  a  great 
state  and  empire,  you  may  be  sure  to  have  wars ; 
for  great  empires,  while  they  stand,  do  enervate 
and  destroy  the  forces  of  the  natives  which  they 
have  subdued,  resting  upon  their  own  protecting 
forces ;  and  then,  when  they  fail  also,  all  goes  to 
ruin,  and  they  become  a  prey ;  so  was  it  in  the 
decay  of  the  Roman  empire,  and  likewise  in  the 
empire  of  Almaigne,  after  Charles  the  Great, 
every  bird  taking  a  feather;  and  were  not  unlike  to 
befal  to  Spain,  if  it  should  break.  The  great  acces 
sions  and  unions  of  kingdoms  do  likewise  stir  up 
wars :  for  when  a  state  grows  to  an  overpower,  it 
is  like  a  great  flood,  that  will  be  sure  to  overflow  ; 
as  it  hath  been  seen  in  the  states  of  Rome,  Turkey, 
Spain,  and  others.  Look  when  the  world  hath 
fewest  barbarous  people,  but  such  as  commonly 
will  not  marry,  or  generate,  except  they  know- 
means  to  live,  (as  it  is  almost  everywhere  at  this 
day,  except  Tartary,)  there  is  no  danger  of  inunda 
tions  of  people  :  but  when  there  be  great  shoals  of 
people,  which  go  on  to  populate,  without  foresee 
ing  means  of  life  and  sustentation,  it  is  of  neces 
sity  that  once  in  an  age  or  t\vo  they  discharge  a 
portion  of  their  people  upon  other  nations,  which 
the  ancient  northern  people  were  wont  to  do  by  lot; 
casting  what  part  should  stay  at  home,  and  what 
should  seek  their  fortunes.  When  a  warlike  state 
grows  soft  and  effeminate,  they  may  be  sure  of  a 
war :  for  commonly  such  states  are  grown  rich  in 
the  time  of  their  degenerating;  and  so  the  prey 
inviteth,  and  their  decay  in  valour  encourageth  a 
war. 

As  for  the  weapons,  it  hardly  falleth  under  rule 
and  observation :  yet  we  see  even  they  have  re 
turns  and  vicissitudes ;  for  certain  it  is,  that  ord 
nance  was  known  in  the  city  of  the  Oxidrakes,  in 
India;  and  was  that  which  the  Macedonians 
called  thunder  and  lightning,  and  magic;  and  it 
is  well  known  that  the  use  of  ordnance  hath  been 
in  China  above  two  thousand  years.  The  condi 
tions  of  weapons,  and  their  improvements,  are, 
first,  the  fetching  afar  off;  for  that  outruns  the 
danger,  as  it  is  seen  in  ordnance  and  muskets ; 
secondly,  the  strength  of  the  percussion ;  wherein 
likewise  ordnance  do  exceed  all  arietations,  and 
ancient  inventions :  the  third  is,  the  commodious 
use  of  them ;  as  that  they  may  serve  in  all  wea 
thers,  that  the  carriage  may  be  light  and  manage 
able,  and  the  like. 

For  the  conduct  of  the  war ;  at  the  first,  men 


APPENDIX  TO  ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


iested  extremely  upon  number;  they  did  put  the 
wars  likewise  upon  main  force  and  valour,  point 
ing1  days  for  pitched  fields,  and  so  trying  it  out 
upon  an  even  match ;  and  they  were  more  igno 
rant  in  ranging  and  arraying  their  battles.  After 
they  grew  to  rest  upon  number,  rather  competent 
than  vast ;  they  grew  to  advantages  of  place,  cun 
ning  diversions,  and  the  like ;  and  they  grew 
more  skilful  in  the  ordering  of  their  battles. 

In  the  youth  of  a  state,  arms  do  nourish ;  in  the 
middle  age  of  a  state,  learning  ;  and  then  both  of 


them  together  for  a  time ;  in  the  declining  age  of 
a  state,  mechanical  arts  and  merchandise.  Learn 
ing  hath  its  infancy,  when  it  is  but  beginning, 
and  almost  childish ;  then  its  youth,  when  it  is 
luxuriant  and  juvenile ;  then  its  strength  of  years, 
when  it  is  solid  and  reduced  ;  and,  lastly,  its  old 
age,  when  it  waxeth  dry  and  exhaust ;  but  it  is 
not  good  to  look  too  long  upon  these  turning 
wheels  of  vicissitude,  lest  we  become  giddy  ;  as 
for  the  philology  of  them,  that  is  but  a  circle  of 
tales,  and  therefore  not  fit  for  this  writing1. 


APPENDIX  TO   ESSAYS. 


A  FRAGMENT  OF  AN  ESSAY  OF 
FAME.* 

THE  poets  make  Fame  a  monster ;  they  describe 
her  in  part  fin  \ly  and  elegantly,  and  in  part  grave 
ly  and  sententiously :  they  say,  look  how  many 
feathers  she  hath,  so  many  eyes  she  hath  under 
neath,  so  many  tongues,  so  many  voices,  she 
pricks  up  so  many  ears. 

This  is  a  flourish  ;  there  follow  excellent  para 
bles  ;  as  that  she  gathereth  strength  in  going;  that 
she  goeth  upon  the  ground,  and  yet  hideth  her 
head  in  the  clouds ;  that  in  the  daytime  she  sit- 
teth  in  a  watch-tower,  and  ilieth  most  by  night ; 
that  she  mingleth  things  done  with  things  not 
done;  and  that  she  is  a  terror  to  great  cities: 
but  that  which  passeth  all  the  rest  is,  they 
do  recount  that  the  Earth,  mother  of  the  giants 
that  made  war  against  Jupiter,  and  were  by  him 
destroyed,  thereupon  in  anger  brought  forth  Fame ; 
for  certain  it  is,  that  rebels,  figured  by  the  giants, 
and  seditious  fames  and  libels,  are  but  brothers 
and  sisters,  masculine  and  feminine  :  but  now  if 
a  man  can  tame  this  monster,  and  bring  her  to  feed 
at  the  hand  and  govern  her,  and  with  her  fly  other 
ravening  fowl,  and  kill  them,  it  is  somewhat 
worth  :  but  we  are  infected  with  the  style  of  the 
poets.  To  speak  now  in  a  sad  and  serious  man 
ner,  there  is  not  in  all  the  politics  a  place  less 
handled,  and  more  worthy  to  be  handled,  than 
this  of  fame ;  we  will  therefore  speak  of  these 
points  ;  what  are  false  fames ;  and  what  are  true 
fames  :  and  how  they  maybe  best  discerned  ;  how 
fames  may  be  sown  and  raised ;  how  they  may 
be  spread  and  multiplied  :  and  how  they  may  be 
checked  and  laid  dead  :  and  other  things  concern 
ing  the  nature  of  fame.  Fame  is  of  that  force,  as 
there  is  scarcely  any  great  action  wherein  it  hath 
not  a  great  part,  especially  in  the  war.  Mucianus 
undid  Vitellius  by  a  fame  that  he  scattered,  that 
Vitellius  had  in  purpose  to  remove  the  legions  of 
*  Published  by  Dr.  Rawley  in  his  Resuscitatio. 


Syria  into  Germany,  and  the  legions  of  Germany 
into  Syria;  whereupon  the  legions  of  Syria  were 
infinitely  inflamed.  Julius  Crcsar  took  Pompey 
unprovided,  and  laid  asleep  his  industry  and  pre 
parations,  by  a  fame  that  he  cunningly  gave  out 
how  Caesar's  own  soldiers  loved  him  not;  and 
being  wearied  with  the  wars,  and  laden  with  the 
spoils  of  Gaul,  would  forsake  him  as  soon  as  he 
came  into  Italy.  Livia  settled  all  things  for  the 
succession  of  her  son  Tiberius,  by  continual  giving 
out  that  her  husband  Augustus  was  upon  recovery 
and  amendment ;  and  it  is  an  usual  thing  with  the 
bashaws,  to  conceal  the  death  of  the  Great  Turk 
from  the  janizaries  and  men  of  war,  to  save  the 
sacking  of  Constantinople,  and  other  towns,  as 
their  manner  is.  Themistocles  made  Xerxes,  king 
of  Persia,  post  apace  out  of  Greecia,  by  giving  out 
that  the  Grecians  had  a  purpose  to  break  his  bridge 
of  ships  which  he  had  made  athwart  Helles 
pont.  There  be  a  thousand  suchlike  examples, 
and  the  more  they  are,  the  less  they  need  to  be 
repeated,  because  a  man  meeteth  with  them  every 
where ;  therefore  let  all  wise  governors  have  as 
great  a  watch  and  care  over  fames,  as  they  have 
of  the  actions  and  designs  themselves. 
[THE  REST  WAS  NOT  FINISHED.] 

OF  A  KING.f 

1.  A  KING  is  a  mortal  god  on  earth,  unto  whom 
the  living  God  hath  lent  his  own  name  as  a  great 
honour;  but  withal  told  him,  he  should  die  like  a 
man,  lest  he  should  be  proud  and  flatter  himself, 
that  God  hath  with  his  name  imparted  unto  him 
his  nature  also. 

2.  Of  all  kind  of  men,  God  is  the  least  be 
holden  unto  them ;    for  he  doth  most  for  them, 
and  they  do  ordinarily  least  for  him. 

3.  A  king  that  would  not  feel  his  crown  too 
heavy  for  him,  must  wear  it  every  day  ;  but  if  he 

f  See  note  K,  at  the  end. 


NOTES  TO  ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


63 


think  it  too  light,  he  knoweth  not  of  what  metal 
it  is  made. 

4.  He  must  make  religion  the  rule  of  govern 
ment,  and  not  to  balance  the  scale ;  for  he  that 
casteth  in  religion  only  to  make  the  scales  even, 
his   own  weight  is  contained   in  those   charac 
ters, —  "Mene,   mene,   tekel,  upharsin, — He  is 
found  too  light,  his  kingdom  shall  be  taken  from 
him." 

5.  And  that  king  that  holds  not  religion  the  best 
reason  of  state,  is  void  of  all  piety  and  justice,  the 
supporters  of  a  king. 

6.  He  must  be  able  to  give  counsel  himself,  but 
not  rely  thereupon  ;  for  though  happy  events  jus 
tify  their  counsels,  yet  it  is  better  that  the  evil 
event  of  good  advice  be  rather  imputed  to  a  sub 
ject  than  a  sovereign. 

7.  He  is  the  fountain  of  honour,  which  should 
not  run  with  a  waste  pipe,  lest  the  courtiers  sell 
the  water,  and  then,  as  the  papists  say  of  their 
holy  wells,  it  loses  the  virtue. 

8.  He  is  the  life  of  the  law,  not  only  as  he  is 
"lex  loquens"  himself,  but  because  he  animateth 
the  dead  letter,  making  it  active  towards  all  his 
subjects  "  prgemio  et  pcena." 

9.  A   wise  king  must  do  less  in   altering  his 
laws  than  he  may ;  for  new  government  is  ever 
dangerous.     It  being  true  in  the  body  politic,  as 
in  the  corporal,  that  "  omnis  subita  immutatio  est 
periculosa ;"  and  though  it  be  for  the  better,  yet 
it  is  not  without  a  fearful  apprehension  ;  for  he 
that  changeth  the  fundamental  laws  of  a  king 
dom,  thinketh  there  is  no  good  title  to  a  crown, 
but  by  conquest. 

10.  A  king  that  setteth  to  sale  seats  of  justice, 
oppresseth  the  people;  for  he  teacheth  his  judges 
to  sell  justice ;  and  "  pretio  parata  pretio  venditur 
justitia." 

11.  Bounty  and  magnificence  are  virtues  very 
regal,  but  a  prodigal  king  is  nearer  a  tyrant  than 
a  parsimonious :  for  store  at  home  draweth  not  his 
contemplations  abroad ;  but  want  supplieth  itself 
of  what  is  next,  and  many  times  the  next  way  :  a 


king  herein  must  be  wise,  and  know  what  he  may 
justly  do. 

12.  That  king  which  is  not  feared,  is  not  loved  ; 
and  he  that  is  well  seen  in  his  craft,  must  as  well 
study  to  be  feared  as  loved ;  yet  not  loved  for  fear, 
but  feared  for  love. 

13.  Therefore,  as  he  must  always  resemble  Him 
whose  great  name  he  beareth,  and  that  as  in  mani 
festing  the  sweet  influence  of  his  mercy  on  the 
severe  stroke  of  his  justice  sometimes,  so  in  this 
not  to  suffer  a  man  of  death  to  live  ;  for  besides 
that  the  land  doth  mourn,  the  restraint  of  justice 
towards  sin  doth  more  retard  the  affection  of  love, 
than  the  extent  of  mercy  doth   inflame  it :  and 
sure  where  love  is  [ill]  bestowed,  fear  is  quite  lost. 

14.  His- greatest  enemies  are  his  flatterers  ;  for 
though  they  ever  speak  on  his  side,  yet  their  words 
still  make  against  him. 

1.5.  The  love  which  a  king  oweth  to  a  weal 
public ;  should  not  be  overstrained  to  any  one  par 
ticular  ;  yet  that  his  more  special  favour  do  reflect 
upon  some  worthy  ones  is  somewhat  necessary, 
because  there  are  few  of  that  capacity. 

16.  He  must  have  a  special  care  of  five  things, 
if  he  would  not  have  his  crown  to  'je  but  to  him 
"  infelix  felicitas." 

First,  that  "simulata  sanctitas"  be  not  in  the 
church  ;  for  that  is  "  duplex  iniquitas." 

Secondly,  that  "inutilis  aequitas  "  sit  not  in  the 
chancery  :  for  that  is  "  inepta  misericordia." 

Thirdly,  that  "utilis  iniquitas"  keep  not  the 
exchequer  :  for  that  is  "  crudele  latrocinium." 

Fourthly,  that  "fidelis  temeritas"  be  not  his 
general :  for  that  will  bring  but  "  seram  pceniten- 
dam." 

Fifthly,  that  "  infidelis  prudentia"  be  not  his 
secretary  ;  for  that  is  "anguis  sub  viridi  herba." 

To  conclude ;  as  he  is  of  the  greatest  power,  so 
he  is  subject  to  the  greatest  cares,  made  the  servant 
of  his  people,  or  else  he  were  without  a  calling  at 
all. 

He  then  that  honoureth  him  not  is  next  an 
atheist,  wantino-  the  fear  of  God  in  his  heart. 


NOTES  TO  ESSAYS. 


NOTE  A. 

Referring1  to  page  11. 

SEE  also  for  similar  sentiments  by  Lord  Bacon,  an  Essay 
upon  Death  in  the  Remains,  inserted  post.  See  also  in  the 
Advancement  of  Learning.  "  For  if  a  man's  mind  be  deeply 
seasoned  with  the  consideration  of  the  mortality  and  cor 
ruptible  nature  of  things,  he  will  easily  concur  with  Epic- 
tetus,  who  went  forth  one  day  and  saw  a  woman  weep 
ing' for  her  pitcher  of  earth  that  was  broken  ;  and  went  forth 
the  next  day  and  saw  a  woman  weeping  for  her  son  that  was 
dead  :  and  thereupon  said,  '  Heri  vidi  fragilem  frangi,  hodie 
vidi  mortalem  mod.'  And  therefore  Virgil  did  excellently 


and  profoundly  couple  the  knowledge  of  causes  and  the  con 
quest  of  all  fears  together,  as  'concomitantia.' 

'Felix  (i\ii  potuit  reruni  cngnoscere  causas, 
Qtiiqiie  metus  oniiies,  et  inexnrahile  fa! urn 
Suljecit  pedibus,  strepitumque  Acherontis  avari.'" 

See  also  the  True  philosophy  of  death  in  the  Novum  Or- 
ganum.  under  the  head  of  Political  Motion,  where  he  says, 
"  The  Political  Motion— Is  that  by  which  parts  of  the  body 
are  restrained  from  their  own  immediate  appetites  or  ten 
dencies,  to  unite  in  such  a  state  as  may  preserve  the  exist 
ence  of  the  whole  body.— Thus  the  spirit  which  exists  in  all 
living  bodies  keeps  all  the  parts  in  due  subjection  ;  when  it 
escapes,  the  body  decomposes,  or  the  similar  parts  unite>  as 


NOTES  TO  ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


metals  rust;  fluids  turn  sour;  and  in  animals,  when  the 
spirit  which  held  the  parts  together  escapes,  all  things  are 
dissolved,  and  return  to  their  own  natures  or  principles  :  the 
oily  parts  to  themselves;  the  aqueous  also  to  themselves, 
&c. ;  upon  which  necessarily  ensues  that  odour,  that  unc- 
tuosity,  that  confusion  of  parts  observable  in  putrefaction;" 
So  true  is  it,  that  in  nature  all  is  beauty:  that  notwithstand 
ing  our  partial  views  and  distressing  associations,  the  forms 
of  death,  mis-shapen  as  we  suppose  them,  are  but  the  ten 
dencies  to  union  in  similar  natures. — To  the  astronomer,  the 
setting  sun  is  as  worthy  of  notice  as  its  golden  beams  of 
orient  light. 

See  lastly  his  epitaph  upon  the  monument  raised  by  his 
affectionate"  and  faithful  Secretary,  who  lies  at  his  feet;  and 
although  only  a  few  letters  of  his  name,  scarcely  legible,  can 
now  be  traced,  he  will  ever  be  remembered  for  his  affec 
tionate  attachment  to  his  master  and  friend.  Upon  the 
monument  which  he  raised  to  Lord  Bacon,  who  appears  sit 
ting  in  deep  but  tranquil  thought,  he  has  inscribed  this  epi 
taph  : 

FRANCISCVS  BACON  .  BARO  DE  VERVLA  STI  ALB1?1  VIC*.18 

SEV  NOTORIBVS  TIT  VMS 
SCIENTIARVM  LVMEN  FACVNDI.-E  LEX 

SIC  SEDEBAT: 

QVI  FOSTQVAM  OMNIA  NATVRALIS  SAPIENTI^E 

ET  CIVILIS  ARCANA   EVOLVISSET 

NATVR^E  DECRETVM  EXPLEVIT 

COMPOS1TA  SOLVANTVR. 

AN:  DM:   MDCXXVI. 

JETATS    LXVI. 

TANTI  VIRI 

MEM: 

THOMAS  MEAVTYS 

SVPERSTITIS  CVLTOR 

DEFVNCTI   ADMIRATOR 

H.  P. 

Any  person  who  is  desirous  to  see  the  confirmation  of 
these  opinions  upon  death  will  find  the  subject  exhausted  in 
a  noble  essay,  in  Tucker's  Light  of  Nature,  vol.  7,  in  his 
inquiry  whether  we  cannot  help  ourselves  by  the  use  of  our 
reason,  so  as  to  brave  looking  death  calmly  and  steadily  in 
the  face  to  contemplate  all  his  features  and  examine  fairly 
what  there  is  of  terrible  and  what  of  harmless  in  them. 

NOTE  B. 

Referring  to  page  12. 
See  Bacon's  Essay  on  Church  Controversies. 

NOTE  C. 

Referring  to  page  14 

See  Advancement  of  Learning,  as  to  the  Art  of  Revealing 
a  Man's  Self,  and  the  Art  of  covering  Defects.  And  see  the 
Analysis  of  this  subject  in  the  analysis. 

NOTE  D. 

Referring  to  page  16. 

On  this  subject,  see  Bishop's  Taylor's  sermon  entitled 
"The  Marriage  Ring." 

NOTE  E. 
Referring  to  page  17. 

There  are  some  observations  upon  Envy,  in  Taylor's  Holy 
Living. 

NOTE  F. 
Referring  to  page  IS. 

See  Bishop  Taylor's  Holy  Living,  of  Charity,  or  the  Love 
of  God. 

It  begins  thus  :  "Love  is  the  greatest  thing  that  God  can 
give  us,  for  himself  is  love  ;  and  it  is  the  greatest  thing  we 
can  give  to  God,  for  it  will  also  give  ourselves,  and  carry 
with  it  all  that  is  ours.  The  apostle  calls  it  'the  band  of 
perfection  ;'  it  is  the  old,  and  it  is  the  new,  and  it  is  the  great 
commandment,  and  it  is  all  the  commandments,  for  it  is  '  the 
fulfilling  of  the  law.'  It  does  the  work  of  all  other  graces, 
without  any  instrument  but  its  own  immediate  virtue.  For 
as  the  love  to  sin  makes  a  man  sin  against  all  his  own  rea 
son,  and  all  the  discourses  of  wisdom,  and  all  the  advices  of 
his  friends,  and  without  temptation,  and  without  opportu 
nity  :  so  does  the  love  of  God  ;  it  makes  a  man  chaste 
without  the  laborious  acts  of  fasting  and  exterior  disciplines, 
temperate  in  the  midst  of  feasts,  and  is  active  enough  to 
choose  it  without  any  intermedial  appetites,  and  reaches  at 
glory  through  the  very  heart  of  grace,  without  any  other 
arms  but  those  of  love."  Then  see  his  magnificent  dis 
course  on  Friendship  in  his  polemical  discourses.  "Chris 
tian  charity  is  friendship  to  all  the  world  ;  and  when  friend 
ships  were  the  noblest  things  in  the  world,  charity  was  little, 
like  the  sun  drawn  in  at  a  chink,  or  his  beams  drawn  into 
the  centre  of  a  burning-glass  ;  but  Christian  charity  is  friend 
ship  expanded,  like  the  face  of  the  sun  when  it  mounts  above 


the  eastern  hills;  and  I  was  strangely  pleased  when  I  saw 
something  of  this  in  Cicero  ;  for  I  have  been  so  push'd  at 
by  herds  and  flocks  of  people  that  follow  any  body  that 
whistles  to  them,  or  drives  them  to  pasture,  that  I  am  grown 
afraid  of  any  truth  that  seems  chargeable  with  singularity  : 
but  therefore  I  say,  glad  I  was  when  I  saw  Latins  in  Cicero 
discourse  thus:  'Amicitia  ex  infinitate  generis  human! 
quam  conciliavit  ipsa  natura,  contracta  res  est,  et  ad- 
ducta  in  angustum ;  ut  omnis  charitas,  aut  inter  duos, 
aut  inter  paucos  jungeretur.'  Nature  hath  made  friend 
ships  and  societies,  relations  and  endearments;  and  by 
something  or  other  we  relate  to  all  the  world  ;  there  is 
enough  in  every  man  that  is  willing  to  make  him  become 
our  friend  ;  but  when  men  contract  friendships,  they  inclose 
the  commons  :  and  what  nature  intended  should  be  every 
man's,  we  make  proper  to  two  or  three.  Friendship  is  like 
rivers,  and  the  strand  of  seas,  and  the  air, — common  to  all 
the  world;  but  tyrants,  and  evil  customs,  wars,  and  want 
of  love  have  made  them  proper  and  peculiar." 

"The  friendship  is  equal  to  all  the  world,  and  of  itself  hath 
no  difference;  but  is  differenced  only  by  accidents,  and  by 
the  capacity  or  incapacity  of  them  that  receive  it.  For  thus 
the  sun  is  the  eye  of  the  world;  and  he  is  indifferent  to  the 
Negro,  or  the  cold  Russian,  to  them  that  dwell  under  the 
line,  and  them  that  stand  near  the  tropics,  the«scalded  Indian 
or  the  poor  boy  that  shakes  at  the  foot  of  the  Riphean  hills. 
But  the  fluxures  of  the  heaven  and  the  earth,  the  conven- 
iency  of  abode,  and  the  approaches  to  the  north  or  south 
respectively  change  the  emanations  of  his  beams;  not  that 
they  do  not  pass  always  from  him,  but  that  they  are  not 
equally  received  below,  but  by  periods  and  changes,  by  little 
inlets  and  reflections,  they  receive  what  they  can.  And 
some  have  only  a  dark  day  and  a  long  night  from  him, 
snows  and  white  cattle,  a  miserable  life,  and  a  perpetual 
harvest  of  cattarhes  and  consumptions,  apoplexies  and  dead 
palsies.  But  some  have  splendid  fires  and  aromatic  spices, 
rich  wines  and  well-digested  fruits,  groat  wit  and  great 
courage,  because  they  dwell  in  his  eye,  and  look  in  his  face, 
and  are  the  courtiers  of  the  sun,  and  wait  upon  him  in  his 
chambers  of  the  east.  Just  so  is  it  in  friendships."  &c. 

NOTE  G. 

Referring  to  page  21. 

"  It  was  both  pleasantly  and  wisely  said,  though  I  think 
very  untruly,  by  a  nuncio  of  the  pope,  returning  from  a  cer 
tain  nation  where  he  served  as  liegcr;  whose  opinion  being 
asked  touching  the  appointment  of  one  to  go  in  his  place,  he 
wished  that  in  any  case  they  did  not  send  one  that  was  too 
wise  ;  because  no  very  wise  man  would  ever  imagine  what 
they  in  that  country  were  like  to  do.  And  certainly  it  is  an 
error  frequent  for  men  to  shoot  over,  and  to  suppose  deeper 
ends,  and  more  compass-reaches  than  are  ;  the  Italian  pro 
verb  being  elegant,  and  for  the  most  part  true  : 

"Di  danari,  di  senno,  edi  fede, 
Ce  ne  manco  che  non  crccli." 

(There  is  commonly  less  money,  less  wisdom,  and  less  good 
faith  than  men  do  account  upon.) 

NOTE  H. 
Referring  to  page  23. 

See  the  treatise  de  Augmentis,  book  viii.  chapter  3,  where 
the  subject  to  which  this  note  is  annexed,  is  investigated. 

"Let  states  and  kingdoms  that  aim  at  greatness  by  all 
means  take  heed  how  the  nobility  and  grandees,  and  that 
those  which  we  call  gentlemen,  multiply  too  fast;  for  that 
makes  the  common  subject  grow  to  be  a  peasant  and  base 
swain  driven  out  of  heart,  and  in  effect  nothing  else  but  the 
nobleman's  bondslaves  and  labourers.  Even  as  you  may- 
see  in  coppice-wood,  'if  you  leave  your  studdles  too  thick, 
you  shall  never  have  clean  underwood,  but  shrubs  and 
bushes:'  as  in  a  country,  if  the  nobility  be  too  many,  the 
commons  will  be  base  and  heartless,  and  you  will  bring  it  to 
that,  that  not  the  hundredth  pole  will  be  fit  for  an  helmet; 
especially  as  to  the  infantry,  which  is  the  nerve  of  an  army, 
and  so  there  will  be  a  great  population  and  little  strength. 
This  which  I  speak  of,  hath  been  in  no  nation  more  clearly 
confirmed  than  in  the  examples  of  England  and  France, 
whereof  England,  though  far  inferior  in  territory  and  popu 
lation,  hath  been  nevertheless  always  an  overmatch  in  arms, 
in  regard  the  middle  people  of  England  make  good  soldiers, 
which  the  peasants  of  France  do  not.  And  herein  the  device 
of  Henry  the  Seventh  King  of  England,  whereof  I  have 
spoken  largely  in  the  history  of  his  life,  was  profound  and 
admirable,  in  making  farms  and  houses  of  husbandry  of  a 
standard;  that  is,  maintained  with  such  a  proportion  of  land 
unto  them,  as  may  breed  a  subject  to  live  in  convenient 
plenty,  and  to  keep  the  plough  in  the  hands  of  the  owners, 
or  at  least  usefructuary,  and  not  hirelings  and  mercenaries, 
and  thus  a  country  shall  merit  that  character  whereby  Virgil 
expresses  ancient  Italy, 

"  Terra  potens  armis,  atque  ubere  gleba." 

Neither  is  that  state  which  is  almost  peculiar  to  England, 
and  for  any  thing  I  know,  hardly  to  be  found  anywhere  else, 
except  it  be  perhaps  in  Poland,  to  be  passed  OV*T,  I  mean  the 


NOTES  TO  ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


65 


state  of  free  servants  and  attendants  upon  noblemen  and 
gentlemen  ;  of  which  sort  even  they  of  inferior  condition,  do 
not  ways  yield  unto  the  yeomanry,  for  infantry.  And  there 
fore  out  of  all  question  the  magnificence  and  that  hospitable 
splendour,  the  household  servants,  and  great  retinues  of 
noblemen  and  gentlemen,  received  into  custom  in  England, 
doth  much  conduce  unto  martial  greatness  ;  whereas  on  the 
other  side,  the  close,  reserved  and  contracted  living  of  noble 
men,  causeth  a  penury  of  military  forces." 

He  is  silent  upon  this  subject  in  the  Advancement  of 
Learning,  for  a  reason  thus  stated.  "Considering  that  I 
write  to  a  king  that  is  master  of  this  science,  and  is  so  well 
assisted,  I  think  it  decent  to  pass  over  this  part  in  silence,  as 
willing  to  obtain  the  certificate  which  one  of  the  ancient 
philosophers  aspired  unto;  who  being  silent,  when  others 
contended  to  make  demonstration  of  their  abilities  by  speech, 
desired  it  might  be  certified  for  his  part,  'that  there  was  one 
that  knew  how  to  hold  his  peace.'  "  But  see  the  Essays 
upon  the  "True  Greatness  of  Kingdoms  and  States." 

See  Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village. 

"  A  bold  peasantry,  their  country's  pride, 
When  ouce  destroyed  can  never  be  supplied,"  &c. 

NOTE  I. 

Referring  to  page  24. 
See,  in  this  volume,  page  70. 

See  also  in  the  preface,  ante,  p.  6,  under  observations  upon 
Meditationes  Sacrae. 

NOTE  K 

Referring  to  the  letter  prefixed,  page  62. 
"Sir, — Finding  during  parliament  a  willingness  in  you  to 
conferre  with  me  in  this  great  service  concerning  the  Union, 
I  doe  now  take  hold  thereof  to  excuse  my  boldness  to  desire 
that  now  which  you  offred  then  for  both  the  tyme  as  to  lea- 
sure  is  more  liberall  and  as  to  the  service  itself  is  more  urgent 
whether  it  will  like  you  to  come  to  me  to  Graies  In  or  to 
appoynt  me  whear  to  meete  with  you  I  am  indifferent  and 
leave  it  to  your  choise  and  accordingly  desire  to  hear  from 
you,  so  I  remain  yr  very  loving  friend,  F  BACON. 

"  Graies  Inne  this  8th  of  Sept.  1604. 
"To  Sir  Robert  Cotton." 

j>  NOTE  L 

Referring  to  preface,  page  2. 

OF   STUDIES. 

Studies  serue  for  pastimes,  for  ornaments,  and  for  abilities. 
Their  chiefe  vse  for  pastime  is  in  priuatenesse  andretyring: 
for  ornament  is  in  discourse,  and  for  ability  is  in  iudgernent. 
For  expert  men  can  execute,  but  learned  men  are  fittest  to 
iudge  or  Censure. 

To  spend  too  much  time  in  them  is  sloth,  to  vse  them  too 
much  for  ornament  is  affectation  :  to  make  iudgement  wholly 
by  their  rules,  is  the  humor  of  a  Scholler.  They  perfect 
Nature,  and  are  perfected  by  experience.  Crafty  men  con- 
temne  them,  simple  men  admire  them,  and  wise-men  vse 
them;  for  they  teach  not  their  owne  vse,  but  that  is  a  wise- 
dome  without  them  :  and  aboue  them  wonne  by  observation. 
Read  not  to  contradict,  nor  to  beleeue,  but  to  weigh  and  con 
sider.  Some  books  are  to  be  tasted,  others  to  be  swallowed, 
and  some  few  to  be  chewed  and  disgested.  That  is,  some 
bookes  are  to  be  read  only  in  parts  :  others  to  be  read  but 
cursorily,  and  some  fewe  to  be  read  wholy  and  with  dilligence 
and  atention.  Reading  maketh  a  ful  man,  conference  a  ready 
man,  and  writing  an  exact  man.  And  therfore  if  a  man  write 
little,  he  had  need  haue  a  great  memory  :  if  he  confer  little, 
haue  a  present  wit,  and  if  he  read  little,  hee  had  need  haue 
much  cunning,  to  seeme  to  know  that  he  doth  not.  Histories 
make  men  wise,  Poets  witty,  the  Mathematiks  subtill,  natu 
ral  philosophy  deep,  Morall  graue,  Logick  and  Rhetoricke, 
able  to  contend. 

OF   DISCOURSE. 

Some  in  their  discourse  desire  rather  commendation  of  wit 
in  being  able  to  hold  all  arguments,  then  of  iudgement  in  dis 
cerning  what  is  true,  as  if  it  were  a  praise  to  know  what 
might  be  said,  and  not  what  shold  be  thought.  Some  haue 
certain  common-places  and  Theames  wherein  they  are  good, 
and  want  variety,  which  kind  of  pouerty  is  for  the  most  part 
tedious,  and  now  and  then  ridiculous.  The  honorablest  part 
of  talke  is  to  giue  the  occasion,  and  againe  to  moderate  and 
passe  to  somewhat  else.  It  is  good  to  vary  and  mixe  speech 
of  the  present  occasion  with  argument,  tales  with  reasons, 
asking  of  questions,  with  telling  of  opinions,  and  iest  with 
earnest.  But  some  things  are  priuiledged  from  iest,  namely 
religion,  matters  of  state,  great  persons,  any  mans  present 
businesse  of  importance,  and  any  case  that,  deserueth  pitty. 
He  that  questioneth  much  shall  learne  much,  and  content 
much,  specially  if  he  apply  his  questions  to  the  skill  of  the 
person  of  whom  he  asketh,  for  he  shal  giue  them  occasion  to 
please  themselues  in  speaking,  and  himselfe  shall  continually 
gather  knowledge.  If  you  dissemble  sometimes  your  know- 
ledg  of  that  you  are  thought  to  know,  you  shall  bee  thought 
another  time  to  know  that  you  know  not.  Speech  of  a  mans 
VOL.  I 9 


selfe  is  not  good  often,  and  there  is  but  one  case,  wherein  a 
man  may  commend  himselfe  with  good  grace,  and  that  is  in 
commending  vertue  in  another,  especially  if  it  be  such  a  ver 
tue,  as  wherevnto  himselfe  pretendeth.  Discretion  of  speech 
is  more  than  eloquence,  and  to  speake  agreeably  to  him,  with 
whom  we  deale  is  more  than  to  speake  in  good  words  or  in 
good  order.  A  good  continued  speech  without  a  good  speech 
of  interlocution  sheweth  slownesse  :  and  a  good  reply  or 
second  speech  without  a  good  set  speech  sheweth  shallow- 
ness  and  weaknesse,  as  we  see  in  beasts,  that  those  that  are 
weakest  in  the  course  are  yet  nimblest  in  the  turne.  To  VSP 
too  many  circumstances  ere  one  come  to  the  matter  is  wea 
risome,  to  vse  none  at  al  is  blunt. 

OF   CEREMONIES   AND   RESPECTS. 

He  that  is  onely  reall  had  neede  haue  exceeding  great  parts 
of  vertue,  as  the  stone  had  neede  be  rich  that  is  set  without 
foyle.  But  commonly  it  is  in  praise  as  it  is  in  gaine.  For  as 
the  prouerbe  is  true,  "  That  light  gaines  make  heauy  purses," 
because  they  come  thick,  wheras  great  come  but  now  and 
then,  so  it  is  as  true  that  smal  matters  win  great  commenda 
tion  :  because  they  are  continually  in  vse  and  in  note, 
whereas  the  occasion  of  anye  great  vertue  commeth  but  on 
holie  daies.  To  attaine  good  formes,  it  sufticeth  not  to  dispise 
them,  for  so  shal  a  man  observe  them  in  others,  and  let  him 
trust  hirnselfe  with  the  rest,  for  if  he  care  to  expresse  them 
hee  shall  leese  their  grace,  which  is  to  be  natural  and  vnaf- 
fected.  Some  mens  behaviour  is  like  a  verse  wherin  euery 
sillable  is  measured.  How  can  a  man  comprehend  great 
matters  that  breaketh  his  mind  too  much  to  small  obserua- 
tions"?  Not  to  vse  Ceremonies  at  all,  is  to  teach  others  not 
to  vse  them  againe,  and  so  diminish  his  respect,  especially 
they  be  not  to  be  omitted  to  strangers  and  strange  natures. 
Amongst  a  mans  pieres  a  man  shall  be  sure  of  familiarity, 
and  therefore  it  is  a  good  title  to  keep  state  :  among  a  mans 
inferiors  one  shal  be  sure  of  reuerence,  and  therefore  it  is 
good  a  little  to  be  familiar.  He  that  is  too  much  in  any  thing, 
so  that  he  give  another  occasion  of  satiety,  maketh  himselfe 
cheape.  To  apply  ones  selfe  to  others  is  good,  so  it  be  with 
demonstration  that  a  man  doth  it  vpon  regard,  and  not  upon 
facility.  It  is  a  good  precept  generally  in  seconding  another  : 
yet  to  add  somewhat  of  ones  own,  as  if  you  will  graunt  his 
opinion,  let  it  be  with  some  distinction.  If  you  will  follow 
his  motion  :  let  it  be  with  condition  :  if  you  allow  his  coun- 
sell,  let  it  be  with  alleadging  further  reason. 

OF   FOLLOWERS    AND    FRIENDS. 

Costly  followers  are  not  to  be  liked,  least  while  a  man 
maketh  his  trayne  longer,  he  make  his  wings  shorter:  I 
reckon  to  be  costly  not  them  alone  which  charge  the  purse, 
but  which  are  wearisome  and  importune  in  sutes.  Ordinary 
following  ought  to  challenge  no  higher  conditions  then  coun 
tenance,  recommendation  and  protection  from  wrong. 

Factious  followers  are  worse  to  be  liked,  which  follow  not 
vpon  affection  to  Iwm  with  whom  they  range  themselues,  but 
vpon  discontentment  conceiued  against  some  other,  wher- 
vpon  commonly  insueth  that  ill  intelligence  that  wee  many 
times  see  between  great  personages.  The  following  by  cer 
tain  States  answerable  to  that  which  a  great  person  himself 
professeth,  as  of  souldiers  to  him  that  haih  been  emploied  in 
the  wars,  and  the  like  hath  euer  beene  a  thing  ciuil  and  wel 
taken  euen  in  Monarchies,  so  it  bee  without  too  much  pompe 
or  popularity.  But  the  most  honorable  kind  of  following  is 
to  be  followed,  as  one  that  apprehendeth  to  aduance  vertue 
and  desert  in  all  sorts  of  persons,  and  yet  wlier  there  is  no 
eminent  oddes  in  sufficiency,  it  is  better  to  take  with  the 
more  passable  then  with  the  more  able.  In  gouernment  it  is 
good  to  vse  men  of  one  rancke  equally,  for  to  countenance 
some  extraordinarily,  is  to  make  them  insolent,  and  the  rest 
discontent,  because  they  may  claime  a  due.  But  in  fauours 
to  vse  men  with  much  difference  and  election  is  good,  for  it 
maketh  the  persons  preferred  more  thankful,  and  the  rest 
more  officious,  because  all  is  of  fauour.  It  is  good  not  Jo 
make  too  much  of  any  man  at  first  because  one  cannot  hold 
out  that  proportion.  To  be  gouerned  by  one  is  not  good,  and 
to  be  distracted  with  many  is  worse  :  but  to  take  adtiice  of 
friends  is  ever  honorable  :  "For  lookers  on  many  times  see 
more  then  gamesters,  and  the  vale  best  discouereth  the  hill." 
There  is  little  friendship  in  the  world,  and  least  of  al  between 
equals,  which  was  wonl  to  bee  magnified.  That  that  is,  is 
between  superior  and  inferiour,  whose  fortunes  may  com 
prehend  the  one  the  other. 

OF  SUTORS. 

Many  ill  matters  are  vndertaken,  and  manye  good  matters 
with  ill  mindes.  Some  embrace  Sutes  which  neuer  meane 
to  deale  effectually  in  them.  But  if  they  see  there  may  be 
life  in  the  matter  by  some  other  meane,  they  will  be  content 
to  win  a  thanke,  or  take  a  second  reward.  Some  take  hold 
of  sutes  only  for  an  occasion  to  crosse  some  other,  or  to  make 
an  information,  whereof  they  could  not  otherwise  haue  an 
apt  pretext,  without  care  what  become  of  the  sute,  when 
that  turn  is  serued.  Nay  some  vndertake  sutes  with  a  ful 
purpose  to  let  them  fal,  "to  the  end  to  gratifie  the  adverse 
party  or  competitor.  Surely  there  is  in  sort  a  right  in  euery 
F  2 


66 


NOTES  TO  ESSAYS  CIVIL  AND  MORAL. 


sute,  either  a  rignt  of  equity,  if  it  be  a  sute  of  controuersie  : 
or  a  right  of  desert,  if  it  be  a  sute  of  petition.  If  affection 
lead  a  man  to  fauour  the  wrong  side  in  Justice,  let  him  rather 
vse  his  countenance  to  compound  the  matter  then  to  carry 
it.  If  affection  lend  a  man  to  fauour  the  lesse  worthy  in 
desert,  let  him  do  it  without  deprauing  or  disabling  the  better 
deseruer.  In  sutes  a  man  doth  not  Well  vnderstand,  it  is 
good  to  refer  them  to  some  friend  of  trust  and  Judgment, 
that  may  report  whether  he  may  deale  in  them  with  honor. 
Sutors  are  so  distasted  with  delaies  and  abuses,  that  plaine 
dealing  in  denying  to  deale  in  sutes  at  first,  and  reporting  the 
successe  barely,  and  in  challenging  no  more  thanks  then 
one  hath  deserued,  is  growen  not  only  honorable,  but  also 
gratious.  In  sutes  of  fauor  the  first  coming  ought  to  take 
little  place,  so  far  forth  consideration  may  be  had  of  his  trust, 
that  if  intelligence  of  the  mater  could  not  otherwise  haue 
been  had  but  by  him,  aduantage  be  not  taken  of  the  note. 
To  be  ignorant  of  the  value  of  a  sute  is  simplicity,  as  wel  as 
to  be  ignorant  of  the  right  thereof  is  want  of  conscience. 
Secrecy  in  sutes  is  a  great  mean  of  obtaining,  for  voycing 
them  to  bee  in  forwardnesse  may  discourage  some  kind  of 
sutors,  but  doeth  quicken  and  awake  others.  But  tyming  of 
the  sutes  is  the  principal!,  tyming  I  say  not  onely  in  respect 
of  the  person  that  should  graunt  it,  but  in  respect  of  those 
which  are  like  to  crosse  it.  Nothing  is  thought  so  easie 
a  request  to  a  great  person  as  his  letter,  and  yet  if  it 
be  not.  in  a  good  cause,  it  is  so  much  out  of  his  reputa 
tion. 

OF    EXPENCE. 

Riches  are  for  spending,  and  spending  for  honour  and  <roo<l 
actions.  Therefore  extraordinary  expence  must  bee  limited 
by 'the  worth  of  the  ocasion,  for  voluntary  vndoing  may  be 
as  well  for  a  mans  country  as  for  the  kingdome  of  heauen, 
but  ordinary  expence  ought  to  be  limited  by  a  man's  estate, 
and  gouerned  with  such  regard  as  it  be  within  his  compasse 
and  not  subject  to  deceite  and  abuse  of  seruants,  and  ordered 
to  the  best  shew,  that  the  Miles  may  be  lesse  than  the  esti 
mation  abroad.  It  is  no  baseiiesse  for  the  greatest  to  disccnd 
and  looke  into  their  owne  estate.  .Some  forbeare  it  not  vpon 
negligence  alone,  but  doubting  to  bring  themselucs  into  me 
lancholy  in  respect  they  shall  find  it  broken.  "But  wounds 
cannot  bee  cured  without  searching." 

He  that  cannot  looke  into  his  own  estate,  had  need  both 
chuse  wel  those  whom  he  employeth,  yea  and  change  them 
often.  For  ricwe  are  more  timerous  and  lesse  subtle.  In 
clearing  of  a  mans  estate  he  may  as  well  hurt  himselfe  in 
being  too  suddaine,  as  in  letting  it  run  on  too  long,  for  hasty 
selling  is  commonly  as  disaduantagable  as  interest.  He  that 
bath  a  slate  to  repaire  may  not  dispise  smal  things:  and 
comonly  it  is  lesse  dishonorable  to  abridge  petty  charges  then 
to  stoupe  to  pettye  gettinges.  A  man  ought  warily  to  begin 
charges,  which  once  begunne  must  continue.  But  in  matters 
that  returne  not,  he  may  bee  more  magnificent. 

OF   REGIMENT   OF    HEALTH. 

There  is  a  wisedome  in  this  beyond  the  rules  of  physicke. 
A  mans  own  ohseruation  what  nee  findes  good  of,  and  what 
he  findes  hurt  of,  is  the  best  Physicke  to  preserve  health. 
But  it  is  a  safer  conclusion  to  say,  This  agreeth  not  well 
with  me.  therefore  I  will  not  continue  it,  then  this,  I  finde 
no  offence  of  this,  therefore  1  may  vse  it.  For  strength  of 
nature  in  youth  passeth  oner  many  excesses,  which  are 
owing  a  man  till  his  age.  Discerne  of  the  cornming  on  of 
years,  and  thinke  not  to  doe  tiie  same  things  still,  Beware 
of  any  suddaine  change  in  any  great  point  of  diet,  and  if 
necessity  inforce  it,  lit  the  rest  to  it.  To  be  free  minded  and 
chearefully  disposed  at  houres  of  meate,  and  of  sleepe,  and 
of  exercise,  is  the  best  precept  of  long  lasting.  If  you  fly 
physicke  in  health  altogether,  it  will  bee  too  strange  to  your 
body  when  you  shall  need  it.  If  you  make  it  too  familiar  it 
wil  work  no  extraordinary  effect  when  sicknes  commeth. 
Despise  no  new  accident  in  the  hody  but  aske  opinion  of  it. 
In  sicknesse  respect  health  principally,  and  in  health  action. 
For  those  that  put  their  bodyes  to  endure  in  health,  may  in 
most  sicknesses  which  are  not  very  sharpe,  be  cured  oriely 
with  diet  and  tendring.  Physitians  are  some  of  them  so 
pleasing  and  comfortable  to  the  humours  of  the  patient,  as 
they  presse  not  the  true  cure  of  the  disease:  and  some  other 
are  so  regular  in  proceeding  according  to  art,  for  the  disease, 
as  they  respect  not  sufficiently  the  condition  of  the  patient. 
Take  one  of  a  middle  temper,  or  if  it  may  not  be  found  in  one 
man,  compound  two  of  both  sortes,  and  forget  not  to  call  as 
well  the  best  acquainted  with  your  body,  as  the  best  reputed 
of  for  his  faculty. 

OF    HONOUR   AND   REPUTATION. 

The  winning  of  honor  is  but  the  reuealing  of  a  man's  ver- 
tue  and  worth  without  disadvantage,  for  some  in  their  actions 
doe  affect  honour  and  reputation,  which  sorte  of  men  are 
commonly  much  talked  of,  but  inwardly  litle  admired:  and 
some  darken  their  vertue  in  the  shew  of  it,  so  as  they  be 
vnder-valued  in  opinion.  If  a  man  performe  that  which 


hath  not  been  attempted  before,  or  attempted  and  giuen  oner, 
or  hath  been  atchined,  but  not  with  so  good  circumstance, 
hee  shall  purchase  more  honor,  then  by  effecting  a  matter  of 
greater  difficulty  or  vertue,  wherin  he  is  but  a  follower.  If 
a  man  so  temper  his  actions  as  in  some  one  of  them  he  do 
content  euery  faction  or  combination  of  people,  the  Mvsicke 
will  be  the  fuller.  A  man  is  an  ill  husband  of  his  honor  that 
entreth  into  any  action  the  failing  wherin  may  disgrace 
him  more,  then  the  carrying  of  it  through  can  honor  him. 
Discreet  followers  help  much  to  reputation.  Envy  which  is 
the  canker  of  honor  is  best  extinguished  by  declaring  a  mans 
selfe  in  his  endes, rather  to  seeke  merite  than  farne.-and  by 
attributing  a  mans' successes  rather  to  deuine  prouidence 
and  felicity,  then  to  his  vertue  or  policy. 

The  true  Marshaling  of  the  degrees  of  Soueraigne  Honour 
are  these.  In  the  first  place  are  "  Conditores,"  founders  of 
states.  In  the  second  place  are  "  Legislators, "  Law-giuers, 
which  are  also  called  second  founders,  or  "Perpetui  princi- 
pes,"  because  they  gouern  by  their  ordinances  after  they  are 
gone.  In  the  third  place  are  Liberatores,  such  as  compounde 
the  long  miseries  of  ciuil  wars,  or  deliver  their  countries 
from  servitude  of  strangers  or  tyrants.  In  the  fourth  place 
are  "  propagatores,"  or  "  propugnatores  imperii,"  such  as  in 
honorable  wars  inlarge  their  territories,  or  make  Noble  de 
fence  against  inuaders.  And  in  the  last  place  are  "Patres 
patrin1,"  which  raigne  justly,  and  make  the  times  good 
wherein  they  Hue.  Degrees  of  honour  in  subiectes  are  first 
'•Participes  curarum,"  those  upon  whom  princes  do  discharge 
the  greatest  weight  of  their  affaires,  their  Right  hands  (as 
we  call  them.)  The  next  are  "Duces  belli,"  great  leaders, 
such  as  are  Princes  Lieutenantes,  and  do  them  notable  ser 
vices  in  the  warres.  The  third  are  "  Gratiosi,"  fauorites, 
such  as  exceed  not  this  scantling  to  be  solace  to  the  Sove- 
raigne.  and  harmk-s  to  the  people.  And  the  fourth  "  Nenotys 
pares,"  such  as  have  erent  place  vnder  Princes,  and  execute 
their  places  with  sufficiency. 

OF   FACTION. 

Many  have  a  newe  wisedome  indeed,  a  fond  opinion : 
That  for  a  prince  to  gouerne  his  estate,  or  for  a  great  person 
!<i  govern  his  proceedings  according  to  the  respects  of  Fac 
tions,  is  the  principal!  part  of  policy.  Whereas  contrariwise, 
the  chiefest  wisedome  is  eyther  in  ordering  these  things 
which  are  general!,  and  wherin  men  of  several  factions  do 
neuertheles  agree,  or  in  dealing  with  correspondence  to  par 
ticular  persons  one  by  one.  But  I  say  not  that  the  considera 
tion  of  Factions  is  to  be  neglected  Meane  men  must  adheare, 
but  great  men  that  haue  strength  in  themselues  were  better 
to  maintaine  themselves  indifferent  and  neutral,  yet  euen 
in  beginners  to  adheare  so  moderately,  as  hee  be  a  man  of 
the  one  faction,  which  is  passablest  with  the  other,  commonly 
giveth  best  way.  The  lower  and  weaker  faction  is  the  firmer 
in  conjunction.  When  one  of  the  factions  is  extinguished, 
the  remaining  subdiuideth,  which  is  good  for  a  second.  It  is 
commonly  scene,  that  men  once  placed,  take  in  with  the  con 
trary  faction  to  that  by  which  they  enter.  The  traitor  in 
factions  lichtly  goeth  away  with  it,  for  when  matters  have 
stuck  long  in  ballancing,  the  winning  of  some  one  man  cast- 
eth  them,  and  he  getteth  al  the  thanks. 

OF    NEGOCIATING. 

It  is  generally  better  to  deale  by  speech  then  by  letter,  and 
by  the  mediation  of  a  third  then  by  a  mans  selfe.  Letters 
are  good  when  a  man  would  draw  an  aunswere  by  Letter 
backe  againe,  or  when  it  may  serue  for  a  mans  Justification 
afterwards  to  produce  his  owne  Letter.  To  deale  in  person 
is  good  when  a  mans  face  breedes  regard,  as  commonly  with 
inferiors.  In  choyce  of  instrumentes  it  is  better  to  chuse 
men  of  a  playner  sort  that  are  like  to  doe  that  that  is  com 
mitted  to  them,  and  to  report  backe  againe  faithfully  the 
successe,  then  those  that  are  cunning  to  contriue  out  of 
other  men's  busines  somewhat  to  grace  themselues,  and  will 
help  the  matter  in  reporte  for  satisfactions  sake. 

It  is  better  to  sounde  a  person  with  whom  one  deales  a  far 
off,  then  to  fall  vpon  the  point  at  first,  except  you  mean  to 
surprise  him  by  some  short  question.  It  is  better  dealing 
with  men  in  appetite  then  with  those  which  are  where  tfiey 
would  be.  If  a  man  deale  with  another  vpon  conditions,  the 
start  or  first  performance  is  al,  which  a  man  cannot  reason 
ably  demaund,  except  either  the  nature  of  the  thing  be  such 
which  must  go  before,  or  else  a  man  can  perswade  the  other 
party  that  he  shal  stil  need  him  in  some  other  thing,  or  els 
that  he  be  counted  the  honesier  man.  All  practise  is  to  dis- 
couer  or  to  worke  :  men  discouer  themselues  in  trust,  in 
passion,  at  vmvares,  and  of  necessity,  when  they  would 
haue  somewhat  done.,  and  cannot  finde  an  apt  pretext.  If 
you  would  work  any  man,  you  must  eyther 'know  his  nature 
and  fashions,  and  so  lead  him;  or  his  endes,  and  so  win  him  ; 
or  his  weaknesse  or  disaduantages,  and  so  awe  him,  or  those 
that  haue  interest  in  him,  and  so  gouerne  him.  In  dealing 
with  cunning  persons  wee  must  euer  consider  their  ends  to 
interpret  their  speeches,  and  it  is  good  to  say  little  to  them, 
and  that  which  they  least  looke  fur. 


MEDITATIONES    SACRJ5. 


OF  THE  WORKS  OF  GOD  AND  MAN. 

GOD  beheld  all  things  which  his  hands  had 
made,  and  lo  they  were  all  passing  good.  But 
when  man  turned  him  about,  and  took  a  view  of 
the  works  which  his  hands  had  made,  he  found 
all  to  be  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit :  wherefore, 
if  thou  shalt  work  in  the  works  of  God,  thy  sweat 
shall  be  as  an  ointment  of  odours,  and  thy  rest  as 
the  sabbath  of  God :  thou  shalt  travail  in  the 
sweat  of  a  good  conscience,  and  shalt  keep  holy 
day  in  the  quietness  and  liberty  of  the  sweetest 
contemplations ;  but  if  thou  shalt  aspire  after  the 
glorious  acts  of  men,  thy  working  shall  be  accom 
panied  with  compunction  and  strife,  and  thy  re 
membrance  followed  with  distaste  and  upbraid- 
ings ;  and  justly  doth  it  come  to  pass  towards 
thee,  O  man,  that  since  thou,  which  art  God's 
work,  doest  him  no  reason  in  yielding  him  well- 
pleasing  service,  even  thine  own  works  also 
should  reward  thee  with  the  like  fruit  of  bitterness. 


OF  THE  MIRACLES  OF  OUR  SAVIOUR. 

"He  hath  done  all  things  well." 

A  TRUE  confession  and  applause.  God  when 
he  created  all  things  saw  that  every  thing  in  par 
ticular  and  all  things  in  general  were  exceeding 
good;  God,  the  Word,  in  the  miracles  which  he 
wrought,  (now  every  miracle  is  a  new  creation, 
and  not  according  to  the  first  creation,)  would  do 
nothing  which  breathed  not  towards  men  favour 
and  bounty :  Moses  wrought  miracles,  and 
scourged  the  Egyptians  with  many  plagues : 
Elias  wrought  miracles,  and  shut  up  heaven,  that 
no  rain  should  fall  upon  the  earth;  and  again 
brought  down  from  heaven  the  fire  of  God  upon 
the  captains  and  their  bands:  Elizeus  wrought 
also,  and  called  bears  out  of  the  desert  to  devour 
young  children :  Peter  struck  Ananias,  the  sacri 
legious  hypocrite,  with  present  death;  and  Paul, 
Elymas,  the  sorcerer,  with  blindness;  but  no 
such  thing  did  Jesus,  the  Spirit  of  God  descended 
down  upon  him  in  the  form  of  a  dove,  of  whom 
he  said,  "You  know  not  of  what  spirit  you  are." 
The  spirit  of  Jesus  is  the  spirit  of  a  dove ;  those 
servants  of  God  were  as  the  oxen  of  God  treading 
out  the  corn,  and  trampling  the  straw  down  under 
their  feet ;  but  Jesus  is  the  Lamb  of  God,  without 
wrath  or  judgments;  all  his  miracles  were  con 
summate  about  man's  body,  as  his  doctrine  re 
spected  the  soul  of  man :  the  body  of  man  need- 


eth  these  things ;  sustenance,  defence  from  out 
ward  wrongs,  and  medicine ;  it  was  he  that  drew 
a  multitude  of  fishes  into  the  nets,  that  he  might 
give  unto  men  more  liberal  provision :  He  turned 
water,  a  less  worthy  nourishment  of  man's  body, 
into  wine,  a  more  worthy,  that  glads  the  heart  of 
man :  He  sentenced  the  fig-tree  to  wither  for  not 
doing  that  duty  whereunto  it  was  ordained,  which 
is,  to  bear  fruit  for  men's  food  :  He  multiplied  the 
scarcity  of  a  few  loaves  and  fishes  to  a  sufficiency 
to  victual  an  host  of  people :  He  rebuked  the 
winds  that  threatened  destruction  to  the  seafaring 
men :  He  restored  motion  to  the  lame,  light  to  the 
blind,  speech  to  the  dumb,  health  to  the  sick, 
cleanness  to  the  leprous,  a  right  mind  to  those 
that  were  possessed,  and  life  to  the  dead.  No 
miracle  of  his  is  to  be  found  to  have  been  of  judg 
ment  or  revenge,  but  all  of  goodness  and  mercy, 
and  respecting  man's  body ;  for  as  touching  riches 
he  did  not  vouchsafe  to  do  any  miracle,  save  one 
only,  that  tribute  might  be  given  to  Caesar. 

OF  THE  INNOCENCY   OF  THE  DOVE, 
AND  THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  SERPENT. 

"  The  fool  receiveth  not  the  word  of  wisdom,  except  thou  dis 
cover  to  him  what  he  hath  in  his  heart." 

To  a  man  of  a  perverse  and  corrupt  judgment 
all  instruction  or  persuasion  is  fruitless  and  con 
temptible,  which  begins  not  with  discovery  and 
laying  open  of  the  distemper  and  ill  complexion 
of  the  mind  which  is  to  be  recured,  as  a  plaster  is 
unseasonably  applied  before  the  wound  be  search 
ed;  for  men  of  corrupt  understanding,  that  have 
lost  all  sound  discerning  of  good  and  evil,  come 
possest  with  this  prejudicate  opinion,  that  they 
think  all  honesty  and  goodness  proceedeth  out  of 
a  simplicity  of  manners,  and  a  kind  of  want  of 
experience  and  unacquaintance  with  the  affairs  of 
the  world.  Therefore,  except  they  may  perceive 
that  those  things  which  are  in  their  hearts,  that 
is  to  say,  their  own  corrupt  principles,  and  the 
deepest  reaches  of  their  cunning  and  rottenness 
to  be  thoroughly  sounded,  and  known  to  him  that 
goes  about  to  persuade  with  them,  they  make  but 
a  play  of  the  words  of  wisdom.  Therefore  it 
behoveth  him  which  aspireth  to  a  goodness  (not 
retired  or  particular  to  himself,  but  a  fructifying 
and  begetting  goodness  which  should  draw  on 
others)  to  know  those  points,  which  be  called  in 
the  Revelation  the  deeps  of  Satan,  that  he  may 
speak  with  authority  and  true  insinuation.  Hence 

67 


o8 


MEDITATIONES  SACR^E. 


is  the  precept,  "Try  all  things,  and  hold  that 
which  is  good;"  which  endureth  a  discerning 
election  out  of  an  examination  whence  nothing  at 
all  is  excluded :  out  of  the  same  fountain  ariseth 
that  direction,  "  Be  you  wise  as  serpents  and 
innocent  as  doves."  There  are  neither  teeth  nor 
stings,  nor  venom,  nor  wreaths  and  folds  of  ser 
pents,  which  ought  not  to  be  all  known,  and,  as 
far  as  examination  doth  lead,  tried :  neither  let 
any  man  here  fear  infection  or  pollution,  for  the 
sun  entereth  into  sinks  and  is  not  denied  ;  neither 
let  any  man  think  that  herein  he  tempteth  God, 
for  his  diligence  and  generality  of  examination  is 
commanded,  and  God  is  sufficient  to  preserve  you 
immaculate  and  pure. 

OF  THE  EXALTATION  OF  CHARITY. 

"If  I  have  rejoiced  at  the  overthrow  of  him  that  hated  me, 
or  took  pleasure  when  adversity  did  befall  him." 

THE  detestation  or  renouncing  of  Job.  For  a 
man  to  love  again  where  he  is  loved,  it  is  the 
charity  of  publicans  contracted  by  mutual  profit 
and  good  offices ;  but  to  love  a  man's  enemies  is 
one  of  the  cunningest  points  of  the  law  of  Christ, 
and  an  imitation  of  the  divine  nature.  But  yet 
again,  of  this  charity  there  be  divers  degrees ; 
whereof  the  first  is,  to  pardon  our  enemies  when 
they  repent :  of  which  charity  there  is  a  shadow 
and  image,  even  in  noble  beasts ;  for  of  lions,  it 
is  a  received  opinion  that  their  fury  and  fierceness 
ceaseth  towards  any  thing  that  yieldeth  and  pros- 
trateth  itself.  The  second  degree  is,  to  pardon  our 
enemies,  though  they  persist,  and  without  satis 
factions  and  submissions.  The  third  degree  is, 
not  only  to  pardon  and  forgive,  and  forbear  our 
enemies,  but  to  deserve  well  of  them,  and  to  do 
them  good  :  but  all  these  three  degrees  either  have 
or  may  have  in  them  a  certain  bravery  and  great 
ness  of  the  mind  rather  than  pure  charity  ;  for 
when  a  man  perceiveth  virtue  to  proceed  and  flow 
from  himself,  it  is  possible  that  he  is  puffed  up  and 
takes  contentment  rather  in  the  fruit  of  his  own 
virtue  than  in  the  good  of  his  neighbours  ;  but  if 
any  evil  overtake  the  enemy  from  any  other  coast 
than  from  thyself,  and  thou  in  the  inwardest  mo- 
lions  of  thy  heart  be  grieved  and  compassionate, 
and  dost  noways  insult,  as  if  thy  days  of  right 
and  revenge  were  at  the  last  come ;  this  I 
interpret  to  be  the  height  and  exaltation  of 
charity. 

OF  THE  MODERATION  OF  CARES. 

"  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof." 

THERE  ought  to  be  a  measure  in  worldly  cares, 
otherwise  they  are  both  unprofitable,  as  those 
which  oppress  the  mind  and  astonish  the  judgment, 
and  profane,  as  those  which  savour  of  a  rnind  which 
promiseth  to  itself  a  certain  perpetuity  in  the  things 
of  this  world ;  for  we  ought  to  be  day's  men  and 


nqt  to-morrow's  men.  considering  the  shortness  of 
our  time  ;  and  as  he  saith,  "  Laying  hold  on  the 
present  day  ;"  for  future  things  shall  in  their  turns 
become  presents,  therefore  the  care  of  the  present 
sufficeth  :  and  yet  moderate  cares  (whether  they 
concern  our  particular,  or  the  commonwealth,  or 
our  friends)  are  not  blamed.  But  herein  is  a  two 
fold  excess  ;  the  one  when  the  chain  or  thread  of 
our  cares,  extended  and  spun  out  to  an  over  great 
length,  and  unto  times'  too  far  off,  as  if  we  could 
bind  the  divine  providence  by  our  provisions, 
which  even  with  the  heathen,  was  always  found 
to  be  a  thing  insolent  and  unlucky ;  for  those 
which  did  attribute  much  to  fortune,  and  were 
ready  at  hand  to  apprehend  with  alacrity  the  pre 
sent  occasions,  have  for  the  most  part  in  their  ac 
tions  been  happy ;  but  they  who  in  a  compass, 
wisdom,  have  entered  into  a  confidence  that  they 
had  belayed  all  events,  have  for  the  most  part  en 
countered  misfortune.  The  second  excess  is, 
when  we  dwell  longer  in  our  cares  than  is  requi 
site  for  due  deliberating  or  firm  resolving ;  for 
who  is  there  amongst  us  that  careth  no  more  than 
sufficeth  either  to  resolve  of  a  course  or  to  conclude 
upon  an  impossibility,  arid  doth  not  still  chew  over 
the  same  things,  and  tread  a  maze  in  the  same 
thoughts,  and  vanisheth  in  them  without  issue  or 
conclusion  :  which  kind  of  cares  are  most  contrary 
to  all  divine  and  human  respects. 


OF  EARTHLY  HOPE. 

"  Better  is  the  siiiht  of  the  eye,  than  the  apprehension  of 
the  mind." 

PURE  sense  receiving  every  tiling  according  to 
the  natural  impression,  makes  a  better  state  and 
government  of  the  mind,  than  these  same  imagi 
nations  and  apprehensions  of  the  mind  ;  for  the 
mind  of  man  hath  this  nature  and  property  even  in 
the  gravest  and  most  settled  wits,  that  from  the 
sense  of  every  particular,  it  doth  as  it  were  bound 
and  spring  forward,  and  take  hold  of  other  matters, 
foretelling  unto  itself  that  all  shall  prove  like  unto 
that  which  beateth  upon  the  present  sense ;  if  the 
sense  be  of  good,  it  easily  runs  into  an  unlimited 
hope,  and  into  a  like  fear,  when  the  sense  is  of 
evil,  according  as  is  said 

"  The  oracles  of  hopes  doth  oft  abuse." 
And  that  contrary, 

"  A  froward  soothsayer  is  fear  in  doubts." 

But  yet  of  fear  there  may  be  made  some  use  ; 
for  it  prepareth  patience  and  awaketh  industry, 

"  No  shape  of  ill,  comes  new  or  strange  to  me, 
All  sorts  set  down,  yea,  and  prepared  lie." 

But  hope  seemeth  a  thing  altogether  unprofit 
able  ;  for  to  what  end  serveth  this  conceit  of  good. 
Consider  and  note  a  little  if  the  good  fall  out  less 
than  thou  hopest;  good  though  it  be,  yet  less  be 
cause  it  is,  it  seemeth  rather  loss  than  benefit 
through  thy  excess  of  hope ;  if  the  good  prove 
equal  and  proportionable  in  event  to  thy  hope,  yet 


MEDITATIONES  SACILE. 


69 


the  flower  thereof  by  thy  hope  is  gathered  ;  so  as ' 
when  it  comes  the  grace  of  it  is  gone,  and  it  seems 
used,  and  therefore  sooner  draweth  on  satiety; 
admit  thy  success  prove  better  than  thy  hope,  it  is 
true  a  gain  seems  to  be  made  :  but  had  it  not  been 
better  to  have  gained  the  principal  by  hoping  for 
nothing,  than  the  increase  by  hoping  for  less  ;  and 
this  is  the  operation  of  hope  in  good  fortunes, 
but,  in  misfortunes  it  weakeneth  all  force  and 
vigour  of  the  mind ;  for  neither  is  there  always 
matter  of  hope,  and  if  there  be,  yet  if  it  fail  but 
in  part,  it  doth  wholly  overthrow  the  constancy 
and  resolution  of  the  mind ;  and  besides,  though 
it  doth  carry  us  through,  yet  it  is  a  greater  dignity 
of  mind  to  bear  evils  by  fortitude  and  judgment, 
than  by  a  kind  of  absenting  and  alienation  of  the 
mind  from  things  present  to  things  future,  for  that 
it  is  to  hope.  And  therefore  it  was  much  light 
ness  in  the  poets  to  fain  hope  to  be  as  a  counter- 
poison  of  human  diseases,  as  to  mitigate  and 
assuage  the  fury  and  anger  of  them,  whereas  in 
deed  it  doth  kindle  and  enrage  them,  and  causeth 
both  doubling  of  them  and  relapses.  Notwith 
standing  we  see  that  the  greatest  number  of  men 
give  themselves  over  to  their  imaginations  of  hope 
and  apprehensions  of  the  mind  in  such  sort,  that 
ungrateful  towards  things  past,  and  in  a  manner 
unmindful  of  things  present,  as  if  they  were  ever 
children  and  beginners,  they  are  still  in  longin 
for  things  to  come.  "I  saw  all  men  walking 
under  the  sun,  resort  and  gather  to  the  second 
person,  which  was  afterwards  to  succeed  :  this  is 
an  evil  disease,  and  a  great  idleness  of  the  mind." 

But  perhaps  you  will  ask  the  question,  whether 
it  be  not  better,  when  things  stand  in  doubtful 
terms,  to  presume  the  best,  and  rather  hope  well 
than  distrust;  especially  seeing  that  hope  doth 
cause  a  greater  tranquillity  of  mind  1 

Surely  I  do  judge  a  state  of  mind  which  in  all 
doubtful  expectations  is  settled  and  floateth  not ; 
and  doth  this  out  of  a  good  government  and  com 
position  of  the  affections,  to  be  one  of  the  principal 
supporters  of  man's  life :  but  that  assurance  and 
repose  of  the  mind,  which  only  rides  at  anchor 
upon  hope,  I  do  reject  as  wavering  and  weak ; 
not  that  it  is  not  convenient  to  foresee  and  presup 
pose  out  of  a  sound  and  sober  conjecture,  as  well 
the  good  as  the  evil,  that  thereby  we  may  fit  our 
actions  to  the  probabilities  and  likelihoods  of  their 
event,  so  that  this  be  a  work  of  the  understanding 
and  judgment,  with  a  due  bent  and  inclination  of 
the  affection :  but  which  of  you  hath  so  kept  his 
hopes  within  limits,  as  when  it  is  so,  that  you 
have  out  of  a  watchful  and  strong  discourse  of 
tlie  mind  set  down  the  better  success  to  be  in 
apparency  the  more  likely ;  you  have  not  dwelt 
upon  the  very  muse  and  forethought  of  the  good 
to  come,  and  giving  scope  and  favour  unto  your 
mind,  to  fall  into  such  cogitations  as  into  a  plea 
sant  dream;  and  this  it  is  which  makes  the  mind 
light,  frothy,  unequal,  and  wandering;  wherefore 


all  our  hope  is  to  be  bestowed  upon  the  heavenly 
life  to  come  :  but  here  on  earth  the  purer  our  sense 
is  from  the  infection  and  tincture  of  imagination, 
the  better  and  wiser  soul. 

"The  sum  of  life  to  little  doth  amount, 
And  therefore  doth  forbid  a  longer  count." 


OF  HYPOCRITES. 

"I  demand  mercy,  and  not  sacrifice." 

ALL  the  boasting  of  the  hypocrite  is  of  the  works 
of  the  first  table  of  the  law,  which  is  of  adoration 
and  duty  towards  God  ;  whereof  the  reason  is 
double,  both  because  such  works  have  a  greater 
pomp  and  demonstration  of  holiness,  and  also 
because  they  do  less  cross  their  affections  and 
desires  ;  therefore  the  way  to  convict  hypocrites. 
is  to  send  them  from  the  works  of  sacrifice  to  the 
works  of  mercy,  whence  cometh  that  saying  : 

"This  is  pure  and  immaculate  religion  with 
God  the  Father,  to  visit  orphans  and  widows  in 
their  tribulations:"  and  that  saying,  "He  that 
loveth  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how 
can  he  love  God,  whom  he  hath  not  seen." 

Now  there  is  another  kind  of  deeper  and  more 
extravagant  hypocrisy;  for  some,  deceiving  them 
selves,  and  thinking  themselves  worthy  of  a  more 
near  access  and  conversation  with  God,  do  neglect 
the  duties  of  charity  towards  their  neighbour,  as 
inferior  matters,  which  did  not  indeed  cause 
originally  the  beginning  of  a  monastical  life,  (for 
the  beginnings  were  good,)  but  brought  in  that 
excess  and  abuse  which  are  followed  after;  for  it 
is  truly  said,  "  That  the  office  of  praying  is  a  great 
office  in  the  church:"  and  it  is  for  the  good  of  the 
church  that  there  be  consorts  of  men  freed  from 
the  cares  of  this  world,  who  may  wi'th  daily  and 
devout  supplications  and  observances  solicit  the 
Divine  Majesty  for  the  causes  of  the  church.  But 
unto  this  ordinance,  that  other  hypocrisy  is  a  nigh 
neighbour;  neither  is  the  general  institution  to  be 
blamed,  but  those  spirits  which  exalt  themselves 
too  high  to  be  refrained  ;  for  even  Enoch,  which 
was  said  to  walk  with  God,  did  prophesy,  as  is 
delivered  unto  us  by  Jude,  and  did  endow  the 
church  with  the  fruit  of  his  prophesy  which  he 
left:  and  John  Baptist,  unto  whom  they  did  refer 
as  to  the  author  of  a  monastical  life,  travelled  and 
exercised  much  in  the  ministry  both  of  prophesy 
and  baptizing  ;  for  as  to  these  others,  who  are  so 
officious  towards  God,  to  them  belongeth  that 
question,  "  If  thou  do  justly  what  is  that  to  God, 
or  what  profit  doth  he  take  by  thy  hands?" 
Wherefore  the  works  of  mercy  are  they  which 
are  the  works  of  distinction,  whereby  to  find  out 
hypocrites.  But  with  heretics  it  is  contrary  ;  for 
as  hypocrites,  with  their  dissembling  holiness 
towards  God,  do  palliate  and  cover  their  injuries 
towards  men;  so  heretics,  by  their  morality  and 
honest  carriage  towards  men,  insinuate  and  make 
I  a  way  with  their  blasphemies  against  God. 


70 


MEDITATIONES  SACR^S. 


OF  IMPOSTORS. 

"  Whether  we  be  transported  in  mind  it  is  to  Godward; 
Or  whether  we  be  sober  it  is  to  youward." 

THIS  is  the  true  image  and  true  temper  of  a 
man,  and  of  him  that  is  God's  faithful  workman; 
his  carriage  and  conversation  towards  God  is  full 
of  passion,  of  zeal,  and  of  tramisses ;  thence  pro 
ceed  groans  unspeakable,  and  exul tings  likewise 
in  comfort,  ravishment  of  spirit  and  agonies ;  but 
contrariwise,  his  carriage  and  conversation  towards 
men  is  full  of  mildness,  sobriety,  and  appliable 
demeanour.  Hence  is  that  saying,  "  I  am  become 
all  things  to  all  men,"  and  such  like.  Contrary 
it  is  with  hypocrites  and  impostors,  for  they  in  the 
church,  and  before  the  people,  set  themselves  on 
lire,  and  are  carried  as  it  were  out  of  themselves, 
and  becoming  as  men  inspired  with  holy  furies, 
they  set  heaven  and  earth  together ;  but  if  a  man 
did  see  their  solitary  and  separate  meditations  and 
conversation  whereunto  God  is  only  privy,  he 
might,  towards  God,  find  them  not  only  cold  and 
without  virtue,  but  also  full  of  ill-nature  and 
leaven;  "  Sober  enough  to  God,  and  transported 
only  towards  men." 

OF  THE  SEVERAL  KINDS  OF  IMPOS 
TURE. 

"Avoid  profane  strangeness  of  words,  and  oppositions  of 
knowledge  falsely  so  called." 
"Avoid  fond  and  idle  fables." 
"Let  no  man  deceive  you  by  high  speech." 

THERE  are  three  forms  of  speaking,  which  are 
as  it  were  the  style  and  phrase  of  imposture :  the 
first  kind  is  of  them,  who  as  soon  as  they  have 
gotten  any  subject  or  matter  do  straight  cast  it  into 
an  art,  inventing  new  terms  of  art,  reducing  all 
into  divisions  and  distinctions;  thence  drawing 
assertions  or  positions,  and  so  framing  oppositions 
by  questions  and  answers.  Hence  issueth  the 
cobwebs  and  clatterings  of  the  schoolmen. 

The  second  kind  is  of  them,  who  out  of  the 
vanity  of  their  wit  (as  church  poets)  do  make  and 
devise  all  variety  of  tales,  stories,  and  examples ; 
whereby  they  may  lead  men's  minds  to  a  belief, 
from  whence  did  grow  the  legends  and  infinite  fabu 
lous  inventions  and  dreams  of  the  ancient  heretics. 

The  third  kind  is  of  them  who  fill  men's  cares 
with  mysteries,  high  parables,  allegories,  and 
illusions;  which  mystical  and  profound  form 
many  of  the  heretics  also  made  choice  of.  By 
the  first  kind  of  these,  the  capacity  and  wit  of 
man  is  fettered  and  entangled ;  by  the  second,  it 
is  trained  on  and  inveigled ;  by  the  third,  it  is 
astonished  and  enchanted ;  but  by  every  of  them 
the  while  it  is  seduced  and  abused. 

OF  ATHEISM. 

"The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart  there  is  no  God." 

FIRST,  it  is  to  be  noted,  that  the  Scripture  saith, 

"The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart,  and  not  thought 

in  his  heart;"  that  is  to  say,  he  doth  not  so  fully 

think  it  in  judgment,  as  he  hath  a  good  will  to  be 


of  that  belief;  for  seeing  it  makes  not  for  him 
that  there  should  be  a  God,  he  doth  seek  by  all 
means  accordingly  to  persuade  and  resolve  him 
self,  and  studies  to  affirm,  prove,  and  verify  it  to 
himself  as  some  theme  or  position :  all  which 
labour,  notwithstanding  that  sparkle  of  our  crea 
tion  light,  whereby  men  acknowledge  a  Deity 
burneth  still  within;  and  in  vain  doth  he  strive 
utterly  to  alienate  it  or  put  it  out,  so  that  it  is  out 
of  the  corruption  of  his  heart  and  will,  and  not 
out  of  the  natural  apprehension  of  his  brain  and 
conceit,  that  he  doth  set  down  his  opinion,  as  the 
comical  poet  saith,  "Then  came  my  mind  to  be 
of  mine  opinion,"  as  if  himself  and  his  mind  had 
been  two  divers  things ;  therefore  the  atheist  hath 
rather  said,  and  held  it  in  his  heart,  than  thought 
or  believed  in  his  heart  that  there  is  no  God ; 
secondly,  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  he  hath  said 
in  his  heart,  and  not  spoken  it  with  his  mouth. 
But  again  you  shall  note,  that  this  smothering  of 
this  persuasion  within  the  heart  cometh  to  pass 
for  fear  of  government  and  of  speech  amongst 
men;  for,  as  he  saith,  "To  deny  God  in  a  public 
argument  were  much,  but  in  a  familiar  conference 
were  current  enough  :"  for  if  this  bridle  were  re 
moved,  there  is  no  heresy  which  would  contend 
more  to  spread  and  multiply,  and  disseminate 
itself  abroad,  than  atheism:  neither  shall  you  see 
those  men  which  are  drenched  in  this  frenzy  of 
mind  to  breathe  almost  any  thing  else,  or  to  incul 
cate  even  without  occasion  any  thing  more  than 
speech  tending  to  atheism,  as  may  appear  in  Lu- 
crecius  the  epicure,  who  makes  of  his  invectives 
against  religion  as  it  were  a  burden  or  verse  of 
return  to  all  his  other  discourses;  the  reason 
seems  to  be,  for  that  the  atheist  not  relying  suffi 
ciently  upon  himself,  floating  in  mind  and  unsa 
tisfied,  and  enduring  within  many  faintings,  and 
as  it  were  fails  of  his  opinion,  desires  by  other 
men's  opinions  agreeing  with  his,  to  be  recovered 
and  brought  again;  for  it  is  a  true  saying, 
"Whoso  laboureth  earnestly  to  prove  an  opinion 
to  another,  himself  distrusts  it :"  thirdly,  it  is  a 
fool  that  hath  so  said  in  his  heart,  which  is  mcst 
true;  not  only  in  respect  that  he  hath  no  taste  in 
those  things  which  are  supernatural  and  divine ; 
but  in  respect  of  human  and  civil  wisdom :  for 
first  of  all,  if  you  mark  the  wits  and  dispositions 
which  are  inclined  to  atheism,  you  shall  find  them 
light,  scoffing,  impudent,  and  vain ;  briefly  of  such 
a  constitution  as  is  most  contrary  to  wisdom  and 
moral  gravity. 

Secondly,  amongst  statesmen  and  politics,  those 
which  have  been  of  greatest  depths  and  compass, 
and  of  largest  and  most  universal  understanding, 
have  not  only  in  cunning  made  their  profit  in  seem 
ing  religious  to  the  people,  but  in  truth  have 
been  touched  with  an  inward  sense  of  the  know 
ledge  of  Deity,  as  they  which  you  shall  evermore 
note  to  have  attributed  much  to  fortune  and  pro 
vidence. 


MEDITATIONES 


71 


Contrariwise,  those  who  ascribed  all  things  to 
their  own  cunning  and  practices,  and  to  the  imme 
diate  and  apparent  causes,  and  as  the  prophet  saith, 
"  Have  sacrificed  to  their  own  nets,"  have  been 
always  but  petty  counterfeit  statesman,  and  not 
capable  of  the  greatest  actions. 

Lastly,  this  I  dare  affirm  in  knowledge  of  na 
ture,  that  a  little  natural  philosophy,  and  the  first 
entrance  into  it,  doth  dispose  the  opinion  to  athe 
ism  ;  but  on  the  other  side,  much  natural  philo 
sophy  and  wading  deep  into  it,  will  bring  about 
men's  minds  to  religion  ;  wherefore  atheism  every 
wray  seems  to  be  combined  with  folly  and  igno 
rance,  seeing  nothing  can  can  be  more  justly  allot 
ted  to  be  the  saying  of  fools  than  this,  "  There  is 
no  God." 

OF   HERESIES. 

"  You  err,  not  knowing  the  Scriptures  nor  the  power  of 
God." 

THIS  canon  is  the  mother  of  all  canons  against 
heresy ;  the  causes  of  error  are  two ;  the  igno 
rance  of  the  will  of  God,  and  the  ignorance  or  not 
sufficient  consideration  of  his  power ;  the  will  of 
God  is  more  revealed  by  the  Scriptures,  and  there 
fore  the  precept  is,  "  Search  the  Scriptures  ;"  the 
will  of  God  is  more  revealed  by  the  creatures,  and 
therefore  the  precept  is,  "  Behold  and  consider  the 
creatures  :"  so  is  the  fulness  of  the  power  of  God 
to  be  affirmed,  as  we  make  no  imputation  to  his 
will ;  so  is  the  goodness  of  the  will  of  God  to  be 
affirmed,  as  wTe  make  no  derogation  from  his 
power:  therefore  true  religion  seated^in  the  mean 
betwixt  superstition,  with  superstitious  heresies 
on  the  one  side,  and  atheism  with  profane  here 
sies  on  the  other;  superstition,  rejecting  the  light 
of  the  Scriptures,  and  giving  itself  over  to  un 
grounded  traditions,  and  writings  doubtful  and  not 
canonical,  or  to  new  revelations,  or  to  untrue  in 
terpretations  of  the  Scriptures,  themselves  do  forge 
and  dream  many  things  of  the  will  of  God,  which 
are  strange  and  far  distant  from  the  true  sense  of 
the  Scriptures ;  but  atheism  and  theomachy  re- 
belleth  and  mutinieth  against  the  power  of  God, 
giving  no  faith  to  his  word  which  revealeth  his 
will,  upon  a  discredit  and  unbelief  of  his  power  to 
whom  all  things  are  possible.  Now,  those  here 
sies  which  spring  out  of  this  fountain  seem  more 
heinous  than  the  other ;  for  even  in  civil  govern 
ments  it  is  held  an  offence  in  a  higher  degree  to 
deny  the  power  and  authority  of  a  prince  than  to 
touch  his  honour  and  fame.  Of  these  heresies 
which  derogate  from  the  power  of  God,  beside  plain 
atheism,  there  are  three  degrees,  and  they  all  have 
one  and  the  same  mystery  ;  for  all  anti Christianity 
worketh  in  a  mystery,  that  is,  under  the  shadow 
of  good,  and  it  is  this,  to  free  and  deliver  the  will 
of  God  from  all  imputation  and  aspersion  of  evil. 
The  first  degree  is  of  those  who  make  and  suppose 
two  principles  contrary  and  fighting  one  against 
the  other,  the  one  of  good,  the  other  of  evil, 


The  second  degree  is  of  them  to  whom  the  ma 
jesty  of  God  seems  too  much  wronged,  in  setting 
up  and  erecting  against  him  another  adverse  and 
opposite  principle,  namely  such  a  principle  as 
should  be  active  and  affirmative,  that  is  to  say, 
cause  or  fountain  of  any  essence  or  being ;  there 
fore  rejecting  all  such  presumption,  they  do  never 
theless  bring  in  against  God  a  principal  negative 
and  privative,  that  is  a  cause  of  not  being  and  sub 
sisting,  for  they  will  have  it  to  be  an  inbred  pro 
per  work,  and  nature  of  the  matter  and  creature 
itself,  of  itself  to  turn  again  and  resolve  into 
confusion  and  nothing,  not  knowing  that  it  is  an 
effect  of  one  and  the  same  omnipotency  to  make 
nothing  of  somewhat  as  to  make  somewhat  of 
nothing.  The  third  degree  is,  of  those  who 
abridge  and  restrain  the  former  opinion  only  to 
those  human  actions  which  partake  of  sin,  which 
actions  they  will  have  to  depend  substantively  and 
originally,  and  without  any  sequel  or  subordination 
of  causes  upon  the  will,  and  make  and  set  down 
and  appoint  larger  limits  of  the  knowledge  of  God 
than  of  his  power,  or  rather  of  that  part  of  God's 
power,  (for  knowledge  itself  is  a  power  whereby 
he  knoweth,)  than  of  that  by  which  he  moveth 
and  worketh,  making  him  foreknow  some  things 
idle,  and  as  a  looker  on,  which  he  doth  not  predesti 
nate  nor  ordain  :  not  unlike  to  that  devise  which 
Epicurus  brought  into  Democritus1  opinion,  to  take 
away  destiny,  and  make  way  to  fortune,  to  wit ; 
the  start  and  slip  of  Attemus,  which  always  of  the 
wiser  sort  was  rejected  as  a  frivolous  shift:  but 
whatsoever  depends  not  of  God,  as  author  and  prin 
ciple  by  inferior  links  and  degrees,  that  must  needs 
be  in  place  of  God,  and  a  new  principle,  and  a  cer 
tain  usurping  God ;  wherefore  worthily  is  that 
opinion  refused  as  an  indignity  and  derogation  to 
the  majesty  and  power  of  God,  and  yet  it  is  most 
truly  affirmed,  that  God  is  not  the  author  of  evil,  not 
because  he  is  not  author,  but  because  not  as  of  evil. 

OF  THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  SCRIP 
TURES. 

"Thou  shall  protect  them  in  thy  tabernacle  from  the  tradi 
tion  of  tongues." 

THE  contradiction  of  tongues  doth  everywhere 
meet  with  us  out  of  the  tabernacle  of  God,  there 
fore  whithersoever  thou  shall  turn  thyself  thou 
shalt  find  no  end  of  controversies  except  thou  with 
draw  thyself  into  that  tabernacle.  Thou  wilt  say 
it  is  true,  and  that  it  is  to  be  understood  of  the 
unity  of  the  church  ;  but  hear  and  note ;  there  was 
in  the  tabernacle  the  ark,  and  in  the  ark  the  testi 
mony  or  tables  of  the  law  :  \vhat  dost  thou  tell  me 
of  the  husk  of  the  tabernacle  without  the  kernel 
of  the  testimony  :  the  tabernacle  was  ordained  for 
the  keeping  and  delivering  over  from  hand  to 
hand  of  the  testimony.  In  like  manner  the  custody 
and  passing  over  of  the  Scriptures  is  committed 
unto  the  church,  but  the  life  of  the  tabernacle  is 
the  testimony. 


OF  THE 

COLOURS    OF    GOOD   AND    EVIL, 

A  FRAGMENT.*— A.D.  1597. 


TO   THE   LORD   MOUNTJOYE. 

I  SEND  you  the  last  part  of  the  best  book  of  Aristotle  of  Stagira,  who,  as  your  lordship  knoweth, 
goeth  for  the  best  author.  But  saving  the  civil  respect  which  is  due  to  a  received  estimation,  the 
man  being  a  Grecian,  and  of  a  hasty  wit,  having  hardly  a  discerning  patience,  much  less  a  teaching 
patience,  hath  so  delivered  the  matter,  as  I  am  glad  to  do  the  part  of  a  good  house-hen,  which  with 
out  any  strangeness  will  sit  upon  pheasants'  eggs.  And  yet  perchance  some  that  shall  compare  my 
lines  with  Aristotle's  lines,  will  muse  by  what  art,  or  rather  by  what  revelation,  I  could  draw  these 
conceits  out  of  that  place.  But  I,  that  should  know  best,  do  freely  acknowledge,  that  I  had  my  light 
from  him ;  for  where  he  gave  me  not  matter  to  perfect,  at  the  least  he  gave  me  occasion  to  invent. 
Wherein  as  I  do  him  right,  being  myself  a  man  that  am  as  free  from  envying  the  dead  in  contempla 
tion,  as  from  envying  the  living  in  action  or  fortune :  so  yet  nevertheless  still  I  say,  and  I  speak  it 
more  largely  than  before,  that  in  perusing  the  writings  of  this  person  so  much  celebrated,  whether  it 
were  the  impediment  of  his  wit,  or  that  he  did  it  upon  glory  and  affectation  to  be  subtile,  as  one  that 
if  he  had  seen  his  own  conceits  clearly  and  perspicuously  delivered,  perhaps  would  have  been  oui  of 
love  with  them  himself;  or  else  upon  policy,  to  keep  himself  close,  as  one  that  had  been  a  challenger 
'of  all  the  world,  and  had  raised  infinite  contradiction :  to  what  cause  soever  it  is  to  be  ascribed,  I  do 
not  find  him  to  deliver  and  unwrap  himself  well  of  that  he  seemeth  to  conceive ;  nor  to  be  a  master 
of  his  own  knowledge.  Neither  do  I  for  my  part  also,  though  I  have  brought  in  a  new  manner  of 
handling  this  argument,  to  make  it  pleasant  and  lightsome,  pretend  so  to  have  overcome  the  nature 
of  the  subject,  but  that  the  full  understanding  and  use  of  it  will  be  somewhat  dark,  and  best  pleasing 
the  taste  of  such  wits  as  are  patient  to  stay  the  digesting  and  soluting  unto  themselves  of  that  which 
is  sharp  and  subtile.  Which  was  the  cause,  joined  with  the  love  and  honour  which  I  bear  to  your 
lordship,  as  the  person  I  know  to  have  many  virtues,  and  an  excellent  order  of  them,  which  moved 
me  to  dedicate  this  writing  to  your  lordship  after  the  ancient  manner :  choosing  both  a  friend,  and 
one  to  whom  I  conceived  the  argument  was  agreeable. 


OF   THE   COLOURS   OF   GOOD   AND  EVIL. 


IN  deliberatives  the  point  is,  what  is  good,  and 
what  is  evil,  and  of  good  what  is  greater,  and  of 
evil  what  is  less. 

So  that  the  persuader's  labour  is  to  make  things 
appear  good  or  evil,  and  that  in  higher  or  lower 
degree,  which  as  it  may  be  performed  by  true  and 
solid  reasons,  so  it  inay  be  represented  also  by 
colours,  popularities  and  circumstances,  which  are 
of  such  force,  as  they  sway  the  ordinary  judgment 
either  of  a  weak  man,  or  of  a  wise  man  not  fully 
and  considerately  attending  and  pondering  the 
matter.  Besides  their  power  to  alter  the  nature 
of  the  subject  in  appearance,  and  so  to  lead  to 
error,  they  are  of  no  less  use  to  quicken  and 


strengthen  the  opinions  and  persuasions  which 
are  true :  for  reasons  plainly  delivered,  and  always 
after  one  manner,  especially  with  fine  and  fasti 
dious  minds,  enter  but  heavily  and  dully :  whereas 
if  they  be  varied  and  have  more  life  and  vigour 
put  into  them  by  these  forms  and  insinuations, 
they  cause  a  stronger  apprehension,  and  many 
times  suddenly  win  the  mind  to  a  resolution. 
Lastly,  to  make  a  true  and  safe  judgment,  nothing 
can  be  of  greater  use  and  defence  to  the  mind, 
than  the  discovering  and  reprehension  of  these 
Colours,  showing  in  what  cases  they  hold,  and  in 

*  See  the  "  Advancement  of  Learning,"  and  the  treatise 
"De  Augmentis,"  under  the  title  Rhetoric. 


COLOURS  OF  GOOD  AND  EVIL. 


what  they  deceive :  which  as  it  cannot  be  done 
but  out  of  a  very  universal  knowledge  of  the  na 
ture  of  things,  so  being  performed,  it  so  cleareth 
man's  judgment  and  election,  as  it  is  the  less  ap 
to  slide  into  any  error. 


A  Table  of  the  Colours  or  Appearances  of  Gooc 
and  Evil,  and  their  degrees,  as  places  of  persua 
sion  and  dissuasion,  and  their  several  fallacies 
and  the  clenches  of  them. 

I. 

"  Cui  caterse  partes  vel  sects  secundas  unanimiter  deferunt 
cum  singiiku  principaturn  sibi  vindicent,  melior  reliquis 
videtur.  Nam  prirnas  quaeque  ex  zelo  videtur  sumere 
secundas  autem  ex  vero  et  merito  tribuere."* 

So  Cicero  went  about  to  prove  the  sect  of  Aca 
demics,  which  suspended  all  asseveration,  for  to  be 
the  best :  for,  saith  he,  ask  a  Stoic  which  philo 
sophy  is  true,  he  will  prefer  his  own.  Then  ask 
him  which  approacheth  next  the  truth,  he  will 
confess  the  Academics.  So  deal  with  the  Epi 
cure,  that  will  scant  endure  the  Stoic  to  be  in  sight 
of  him,  so  soon  as  he  hath  placed  himself,  he  wil] 
place  the  Academics  next  him. 

So  if  a  prince  took  divers  competitors  to  a  place, 
and  examined  them  severally,  whom  next  them 
selves  they  would  rarest  commend,  it  were  like 
the  ablest  man  should  have  the  most  second  voices. 

The  fallax  of  this  colour  happeneth  oft  in  respect 
of  envy,  for  men  are  accustomed  after  themselves 
and  their  own  faction,  to  incline  unto  them  which 
are  softest,  and  are  least  in  their  way,  in  despite 
and  derogation  of  them,  that  hold  them  hardest  to 
it.  So  that  this  colour  of  meliority  and  pre-emi 
nence  is  a  sigrn  of  enervation  and  weakness. 


II. 

"Cujus  excellentia  vel  exsuperantia  melior,  id  toto  genere 
melius."t 

APPERTAINING  to  this  are  the  forms  :  "  Let  us 
not  wander  in  generalities :  Let  us  compare  parti 
cular  with  particular,"  £c.  This  appearance, 
though  it  seem  of  strength,  and  rather  logical  than 
rhetorical  yet  is  very  oft  a  fallax. 

Sometime  because  some  things  are  in  kind  very 
casual,  which  if  they  escape,  prove  excellent,  so 
that  the  kind  is  inferior,  because  it  is  so  subject 
to  peril,  but  that  which  is  excellent  being  proved 
is  superior,  as  the  blossom  of  March  and  the 
blossom  of  May,  whereof  the  French  verse  goeth : 

"Burgeon  de  Mars,  enfans  de  Paris, 
Si  un  eschape,  il  en  vaut  dix." 

So  that  the  blossom  of  May  is  generally  better 
than  the  blossom  of  March,  and  yet  the  best  blos 
som  of  March  is  better  than  the  best  blossom  of 

*  "  Since  all  parties  or  sects  challenge  the  pre-eminence 
of  the  first  place  to  themselves,  that  to  which  all  the  rest 
with  one  consent  give  the  second  place,  seems  to  be  better 
than  the,  others:  for  every  one  seems  to  take  the  first  place 
out  of  self-zeal  but  to  give  the  second  where  it  is  really  due." 

f  "That  kind  is  altogether  best,  whose  excellence  or  pre 
eminence  is  best." 

VOL.  J.— 10 


May.  Sometimes  because  the  nature  of  some 
kinds  is  to  be  more  equal,  and  more  indifferent,  and 
not  to  have  very  distant  degrees,  as  hath  been 
noted  in  the  warmer  climates,  the  people  are 
generally  more  wise,  but  in  the  northern  climates 
the  wits  of  chief  are  greater.  So  in  many  armies, 
if  the  matter  should  be  tried  by  duel  between  two 
champions,  the  victory  should  go  on  the  one  side, 
and  yet  if  it  be  tried  by  the  gross,  it  would  go  on 
the  other  side  ;  for  excellencies  go  as  it  were  by 
chance,  but  kinds  go  by  a  more  certain  nature,  as 
by  discipline  in  war. 

Lastly  many  kinds  have  much  refuse,  which 
countervail  that  which  they  have  excellent,  and 
therefore  generally  metal  is  more  precious  than 
stone ;  and  yet  a  diamond  is  more  precious  than 
gold. 

III. 

"  Quod  ad  veritatem  refertur  majus  est  quam  quod  ad  ppini- 
onem.  Modus  autem  et  probatio  ejus  quod  ad  opinionem 
pertinet  hfec  est,  quod  quis  si  clam  putaret  fore  facturus 
non  esset."! 

So  the  Epicures  say  of  the  Stoics  felicity  placed 
in  virtue  ;  that  it  is  like  the  felicity  of  a  player, 
who  if  he  were  left  of  his  auditory  and  their  ap 
plause,  he  would  straight  be  out  of  heart  and  coun 
tenance,  and  therefore  they  call  virtue  "  bonum 
theatrale."  But  of  riches  the  poet  saith ; 

"  Populus  me  sibilat, 

At  mini  plaudo." 
And  of  pleasure, 

"Grata  sub  imo 
Gaudia  corde  premens,  vultu  simulante  pudorem." 

The  fallax  of  this  colour  is  somewhat  subtile, 
though  the  answer  to  the  example  be  ready,  for 
virtue  is  not  chosen  "propter  auram  popularem." 
But  contrariwise, "  maxime  omnium  teipsum  reve- 
rere,"  so  as  a  virtuous  man  will  be  virtuous  in 
solitudine,"  and  not  only  in  "  theatre,"  though 
percase  it  will  be  more  strong  by  glory  and  fame, 
as  an  heat  which  is  doubled  by  reflection ;  but 
that  denieth  the  supposition,  it  doth  not  reprehend 
the  fallax,  whereof  the  reprehension  is :  Allow 
that  virtue,  /'such  as  is  joined  with  labour  and 
conflict,)  would  not  be  chosen  but  for  fame  and 
opinion,  yet  it  followeth  not,  that  the  chief  motive 
of  the  election  should  not  be  real  and  for  itself,  for 
ame  may  be  only  "  causa  impulsiva,"  and  not 
"  causa  constituens,  or  efnciens."  As  if  there 
were  two  horses,  and  the  one  would  do  better  with 
out  the  spur  than  the  other  :  but  again,  the  other 
with  the  spur  would  far  exceed  the  doing  of  the 
brmer,  giving  him  the  spur  also :  yet  the  latter  will 
)e  judged  to  be  the  better  horse.  And  the  form  as 
o  say,  "  Tush,  the  life  of  this  horse  is  but  in  the 
spur,"  will  not  serve  as  to  a  wise  judgment ;  for 
since  the  ordinary  instrument  of  horsemanship  is 
,he  spur,  and  that  it  is  no  manner  of  impediment, 
nor  burden,  the  horse  is  not  to  be  accounted  the 

"  That  which  hath  a  relation  to  truth  is  greater  than  that 
vhich  refers  to  opinion  :  but  the  measure  and  trial  of  that 
which  belongs  to  opinion  is  this  :  It  is  that  which  a  man 
vould  not  do,  if  he  thought  it  would  not  be  known  " 


74 


COLOURS  OF  GOOD  AND  EVIL. 


less  of,  which  will  not  do  well  without  the  spur, 
but  rather  the  other  is  to  be  reckoned  a  delicacy, 
than  a  virtue  :  so  glory  and  honour  are  the  spurs 
to  virtue :  and  although  virtue  would  languish 
without  them,  yet  since  they  be  always  at  hand  to 
attend  virtue,  virtue  is  not  to  be  said  the  less  chosen 
for  itself,  because  it  needeth  the  spur  of  fame  and 
reputation  :  and  therefore  that  position,  "  notaejus 
rei  quod  propter  opinionem  et  non  propter  veritatem 
eligitur,  haec  est ;  quod  quis  si,  clam  putaret  fore, 
facturus  non  esset,"  is  reprehended. 

IV. 

"  Quod  rem  integram  scrvat  bonum,  quod  sine  receptu  est 
malum.     Nam  se  recipere  nou  posse  impotentix  genus  est, 
:    potentia  autem  bonum."* 

HEREOF  vEsop  framed  the  fable  of  the  two  frogs 
that  consulted  together  in  the  time  of  drought, 
when  many  plashes  that  they  had  repaired  to  were 
dry,  what  was  to  be  done,  and  the  one  propounded 
to  go  down  into  a  deep  well,  because  it  was  like 
the  water  would  not  fail  there;  but  the  other 
answered,  yea,  but  if  it  do  fail,  how  shall  we  get 
up  again.  And  the  reason  is,  that  human  actions 
are  so  uncertain  and  subject  to  perils,  as  that 
seemeth  the  best  course  which  hath  most  passages 
out  of  it.  Appertaining  to  this  persuasion,  the 
forms  are,  you  shall  engage  yourself,  on  the  other 
side,  "  tantum,  quantum  voles,  suincs  ex  fortuna," 
&c.  you  shall  keep  the  matter  in  your  own  hand. 
The  reprehension  of  it  is,  that  proceeding  and  re 
solving  in  all  actions  is  necessary.  For  as  he 
saith  well,  not  to  resolve,  is  to  resolve,  and  many 
times  it  breeds  as  many  necessities,  and  engageth 
as  far  in  some  other  sort,  as  to  resolve.  So  it  is  but 
the  covetous  man's  disease,  translated  into  power; 
for  the  covetous  man  will  enjoy  nothing,  because 
he  will  have  his  full  store  and  possibility  to  enjoy 
the  more;  so  by  this  reason,  a  man  should  execute 
nothing,  because  he  should  be  still  indifferent, 
and  at  liberty  to  execute  any  thing.  Besides 
necessity  and  this  same  "jacta  est  alea,"  hath 
many  times  an  advantage,  because  it  awaketh 
the  powers  of  the  mind,  and  strengthened  endea 
vour,  "  caeteris  paret  necessitate  certe  superiores 
istis." 

V. 

"  Quod  ex  pluribus  constat  et  divisibilibus,  est  majns  quam 
quod  ex  paucioribus  et  magis  unum  ;  nani  onmia  per  partes 
considerata  majora  videntur,  quare  et  pluralitas  partium 
magnitudinemprre  se  fert  :  fortiiis  autem  operatur  plurali 
tas  partium  si  ordo  absit,  nam  inducit  similitudinem  infiniti, 
et  impedit  comprehensionem."f 

THIS  colour  seemeth  palpable,  for  it  is  not  plu 
rality  of  parts,  without  majority  of  parts,  that  mak- 

*  "  That  which  keeps  a  matter  safe  and  entire  is  good ;  but 
what  is  destitute  and  unprovided  of  retreat  is  bad  ;  for 
whereas  all  ability  of  acting  is  good,  not  to  be  able  to  with 
draw  one's  self  is  a  kind  of  impotency." 

4- "  That  which  consists  of  more  parts  and  those  divisible,  is 
greater,  and  more  one  than  what  is  made  up  of  fewer  ;  for 
all  things  when  they  are  looked  upon  piecemeal  seem 
greater  ;  when  also  a  plurality  of  parts  make  a  show  of  bulk 
considerable,  which  a  plurality  of  parts  affects  more  strongly, 
if lUev  be  in  no  certain  order  ;  for  it  then  resembles  an  infi 
nity,  and  hinders  the  comprehending  of  them." 


eth  the  total  greater,  yet  nevertheless,  it  often 
carries  the  mind  away,  yea,  it  deceiveth  the  sense ; 
as  it  seemeth  to  the  eye  a  shorter  distance  of  way, 
if  it  be  all  dead,  and  continued,  than  if  it  have  trees 
or  buildings,  or  any  other  marks,  whereby  the  eye 
may  divide  it.  So  when  a  great  moneyed  man  hath 
divided  his  chests,  and  coins,  and  bags,  he  seem 
eth  to  himself  richer  than  he  was,  and  therefore  a 
way  to  amplify  any  thing  is,  to  break  it  and  to 
make  anatomy  of  it  in  several  parts,  and  to  exa 
mine  it  according  to  several  circumstances.  And 
this  maketh  the  greater  show  if  it  be  done  without 
order,  for  confusion  maketh  things  muster  more ; 
and  besides,  what  is  set  down  by  order  and  divi 
sion,  doth  demonstrate  that  nothing  is  left  out 
or  omitted,  but  all  is  there  ;  whereas  if  it  be 
without  order,  both  the  mind  comprehendeth  less 
that  which  is  set  down ;  and  besides,  it  leaveth 
a  suspicion,  as  if  more  might  be  said  than  is  ex 
pressed. 

This  colour  deceiveth,  if  the  mind  of  him  that 
is  to  be  persuaded,  do  of  itself  over-conceive,  or 
prejudge  of  the  greatness  of  any  thing;  for  then 
the  breaking  of  it  will  make  it  seem  less,  because 
it  maketh  it  to  appear  more  according  to  the  truth  : 
and  therefore  if  a  man  be  in  sickness  or  pain,  the 
time  will  seem  longer  without  a  clock  or  hourglass, 
than  with  it ;  for  the  mind  doth  value  every  mo 
ment,  and  then  the  hour  doth  rather  sum  up  the 
moments  than  divide  the  day.  So  in  a  dead  plain 
the  way  seemeth  longer,  because  the  eye  hath 
preconceived  it  shorter  than  the  truth,  and  the 
frustrating  of  that  maketh  it  seem  longer  than  the 
truth.  Therefore  if  aoy  man  have  an  over-great 
opinion  of  any  thing,  then  if  another  think  by 
breaking  it  into  several  considerations  he  shall 
make  it  seem  greater  to  him,  he  will  be  deceived  ; 
and  therefore  in  such  cases  it  is  not  safe  to  divide, 
but  to  extol  the  entire,  still  in  general.  Another 
case  wherein  this  colour  deceiveth  is,  when  the 
matter  broken  or  divided  is  not  comprehended  by 
the  sense  or  mind  at  once,  in  respect  of  the  dis 
tracting  or  scattering  of  it ;  and  being  entire  and  not 
divided,  is  comprehended  ;  as  an  hundred  pounds 
in  heaps  of  five  pounds  will  show  more  than  in  one 
gross  heap,  so  as  the  heaps  be  all  upon  one  table 
to  be  seen  at  once,  otherwise  not ;  as  flowers  grow 
ing  scattered  in  divers  beds  will  show  more  than 
if  they  did  grow  in  one  bed,  so  as  all  those  beds 
be  within  a  plot,  that  they  be  objects  to  view  at 
once,  otherwise  not :  and  therefore  men,  whose 
living  lieth  together  in  one  shire,  are  commonly 
counted  greater  landed  than  those  whose  livings 
are  dispersed,  though  it  be  more,  because  of  the 
notice  and  comprehension.  A  third  case  wherein 
this  colour  deceiveth,  and  it  is  not  so  properly  a 
case  of  reprehension,  as  it  is  a  counter  colour,  being 
in  effect  as  large  as  the  colour  itself;  and  that  is, 
"omnis  compositio  indigentia^  cujusdam  videtur 
esse  particeps,"  because  if  one  thing  would  serve 
the  turn,  it  were  ever  best,  but  the  defect  and  in> 


COLOURS  OF  GOOD  AND  EVIL. 


75 


perfections  of  things  hath  brought  in  that  help  to 
piece  them  up ;  as  it  is  said,  "  Martha,  Martha, 
attendis  ad  plurima,  unum  sufficit."  So  likewise 
hereupon  ./Esop  framed  the  fable  of  the  fox  and 
the  cat ;  whereas  the  fox  bragged  what  a  number 
of  shifts  and  devices  he  had  to  get  from  the  hounds, 
and  the  cat  said  she  had  but  one,  which  was  to 
climb  a  tree,  which  in  proof  was  better  worth  than 
all  the  rest ;  whereof  the  proverb  grew,  "  Multa 
novit  vulpes,  sed  felis  unum  magnum."  And  in 
the  moral  of  this  fable  it  comes  likewise  to  pass, 
that  a  good  sure  friend  is  a  better  help  at  a  pinch 
than  all  the  stratagems  and  policies  of  a  man's 
own  wit.  So  it  falleth  out  to  be  a  common  error 
in  negotiating,  whereas  men  have  many  reasons  to 
induce  or  persuade,  they  strive  commonly  to  utter 
and  use  them  all  at  once,  which  weakeneth  them. 
For  it  argueth,  as  was  said,  a  neediness  in  every 
of  the  reasons,  by  itself,  as  if  one  did  not  trust  to 
any  of  them,  but  fled  from  one  to  another,  helping 
himself  only  with  that :  "  Et  quee  non  prosunt  sin- 
gula,  multa  juvant."  Indeed  in  a  set  speech  in  an 
assembly,  it  is  expected  a  man  should  use  all  his 
reasons  in  the  case  he  handleth,  but  in  private 
persuasions  it  is  always  a  great  error.  A  fourth 
case  wherein  this  colour  may  be  reprehended,  is 
in  respect  of  that  same  "vis  unita  fortior,"  ac 
cording  to  the  tale  of  the  French  king,  that  when 
the  emperor's  ambassador  had  recited  his  master's 
style  at  large,  which  consisteth  of  many  countries 
and  dominions  ;  the  French  king  willed  his  chant 
cellor,  or  other  minister,  to  repeat  and  say  over 
France  as  many  times  as  the  other  had  recited 
the  several  dominions  ;  intending  it  was  equiva 
lent  with  them  all,  and  besides  more  compacted 
and  united.  There  is  also  appertaining  to  this 
colour  another  point,  why  breaking  of  a  thing 
doth  help  it,  not  by  way  of  adding  a  show  of  mag 
nitude  unto  it,  but  a  note  of  excellency  and  rarity  ; 
whereof  the  forms  are,  Where  shall  you  find 
such  a  concurrence  ;  Great  but  not  complete ;  for 
it  seems  a  less  work  of  nature  or  fortune,  to  make 
any  thing  in  his  kind  greater  than  ordinary,  than 
to  make  a  strange  composition.  Yet  if  it  be  nar 
rowly  considered,  this  colour  will  be  reprehended 
or  encountered,  by  imputing  to  all  excellencies  in 
compositions  a  kind  of  poverty,  or  at  least  a  casu 
alty  or  jeopardy ;  for  from  that  which  is  excellent 
in  greatness,  somewhat  may  be  taken,  or  there  may 
be  decay,  and  yet  sufficiency  left ;  but  from  that 
which  hath  his  price  in  composition,  if  you  take 
away  any  thing,  or  any  part  do  fail,  all  is  disgrace. 

VI. 

"  Cujus  privatio  bona,  malum  ;    cujus  privatio  mala, 
bonum."* 

THE  forms  to  make  it  conceived,  that  that  was 
evil  which  is  changed  for  the  better,  are,  He  that 

*  "  That  whose  privation  (or  the  want  of  which)  is  sood,  is 
in  itself  evil ;  that  whose  privation  (or  the  want  whereof) 
U  au  evil,  is  in  itself  good." 


is  in  hell  thinks  there  is  no  other  heaven.  "  Satis 
quercus."  Acorns  were  good  till  bread  was 
found,  &c.  And  of  the  other  side,  the  forms 
to  make  it  conceived,  that  that  was  good  which 
was  changed  for  the  worse,  are,  "Bona  magis 
carendo  quam  fruendo  sentimus  :  Bona  a  tergo 
formosissima;"  Good  things  never  appear  in  their 
full  beauty,  till  they  turn  their  back  and  be  going 
away,  &c. 

The  reprehension  of  this  colour  is,  that  the  good 
or  evil  which  is  removed  may  be  esteemed  good 
or  evil  comparatively,  and  not  positively  or  simply. 
So  that  if  the  privation  be  good,  it  follows  not  the 
former  condition  was  evil,  but  less  good  ;  for  the 
flower  or  blossom  is  a  positive  good,  although  the 
remove  of  it  to  give  place  to  the  fruit,  be  a  com 
parative  good.  So  in  the  tale  of  ^Esop,  when  the 
old  fainting  man  in  the  heat  of  the  day  cast  down 
his  burden  and  called  for  Death  ;  and  when  Death 
came  to  know  his  will  with  him,  said,  it  was  for 
nothing  but  to  help  him  up  w7ith  his  burden  again  : 
it  doth  not  follow,  that  because  Death,  which  was 
the  privation  of  the  burden,  was  ill,  therefore  the 
burden  was  good.  And  in  this  part,  the  ordinary 
form  of  "  malum  necessarium"  aptly  reprehendeth 
this  colour,  for  "  privatio  mali  necessarii  est  mala," 
and  yet  that  doth  not  convert  the  nature  of  the  ne 
cessary  evil,  but  it  is  evil. 

Again  it  cometh  sometimes  to  pass,  that  there 
is  an  equality  in  the  change  of  privation,  and  as  it 
were  a  "dilemma  boni,"  or  a  "dilemma  mali:" 
so  that  the  corruption  of  the  one  good,  is  a  gene- 
ration  of  the  other.  "  Sorti  pater  aequus  utrique 
est:"  and  contrary,  the  remedy  of  the  one  evil  is 
the  occasion  and  commencement  of  another,  as  in 
Scylla  and  Charybdis. 

VII. 

"  Quod  bono  vicinum,  bonum  ;  quod  a  bono  remotum, 
malum.  "f 

SUCH  is  the  nature  of  things,  that  things  con 
trary,  and  distant  in  nature  and  quality,  are  also 
severed  and  disjoined  in  place;  and  things  like 
and  consenting  in  quality,  are  placed,  and  as  it 
were  quartered  together  :  for,  partly  in  regard  of 
the  nature  to  spread,  multiply,  and  infect  in  simi 
litude;  and  partly  in  regard  of  the  nature  to 
break,  expel,  and  alter  that  which  is  disagreeable 
and  contrary,  most  things  do  either  associate,  and 
draw  near  to  themselves  the  like,  or  at  least  assi 
milate  to  themselves  that  which  approacheth 
near  them,  and  do  also  drive  away,  chase  and 
exterminate  their  contraries.  And  that  is  the 
reason  commonly  yielded,  why  the  middle  region 
of  the  air  should  be  coldest,  because  the  sun  and 
stars  are  either  hot  by  direct  beams,  or  by  reflec 
tion.  The  direct  beams  heat  the  upper  region, 
the  reflected  beams  from  the  earth  and  seas  heat 
the  lower  region,  That  which  is  in  the  midst, 


•}•  "What  is  near  to  good,  is  good;  what  is  at  a 
from  good,  is  evil." 


76 


COLOURS  OF  GOOD  AND  EVIL. 


being  farthest  distant  in  place  from  these  two 
regions  of  heat,  are  most  distant  in  nature,  that  is, 
coldest;  which  is  that  they  term  cold  or  hot  "per 
antiperistasin,"  that  is,  environing  by  contraries: 
which  was  pleasantly  taken  hold  of  by  him  that 
said,  that  an  honest  man,  in  these  days,  must  needs 
be  more  honest  than  in  ages  heretofore,  "  propter 
antiperistasin,"  because  the  shutting  of  him  in  the 
midst  of  contraries,  must  needs  make  the  honesty 
stronger  and  more  compact  in  itself. 

The  reprehension  of  this  colour  is :  first,  many 
things  of  amplitude  in  their  kind  do  as  it  were  in- 
gross  to  themselves  all,  and  leave  that  which  is 
next  them  most  destitute  :  as  the  shoots  or  under 
wood,  that  grow  near  a  great  and  spread  tree,  is 
the  most  pined  and  shrubby  wood  of  the  field, 
because  the  great  tree  doth  deprive  and  deceive 
them  of  sap  and  nourishment ;  so  he  saith  well, 
"  divitus  servi  maxime  servi ;"  and  the  comparison 
was  pleasant  of  him,  that  compared  courtiers  at 
tendant  in  the  courts  of  princes  without  great  place 
or  office,  to  fasting-days,  which  were  next  the 
holydays,  but  otherwise  were  the  leanest  days  in 
all  the  week. 

Another  reprehension  is,  that  things  of  great 
ness  and  predominancy,  though  they  do  not  ex 
tenuate  the  things  adjoining  in  substance,  yet 
they  drown  them  and  obscure  them  in  show 
and  appearance;  and  therefore  the  astronomers 
say,  That  whereas  in  all  other  planets  conjunction 
is  the  perfectest  amity ;  the  sun  contrariwise  is 
good  by  aspect,  but  evil  by  conjunction. 

A  third  reprehension  is,  because  evil  approach- 
eth  to  good  sometimes  for  concealment,  sometimes 
for  protection;  arid  good  to  evil  for  conversion 
and  reformation.  So  hypocrisy  draweth  near  to 
religion  for  coverts  and  hiding  itself;  "saepe  latet 
vitium  proximitate  boni:"  and  sanctuary-men, 
which  were  commonly  inordinate  men  and  male 
factors,  were  wont  to  be  nearest  to  priests  and 
prelates,  and  holy  men;  for  the  majesty  of  good 
things  is  such,  as  the  confines  of  them  are  revered. 
On  the  other  side,  our  Saviour,  charged  with 
nearness,  of  publicans  and  rioters,  said,  "The 
physician  approacheth  the  sick  rather  than  the 
whole." 

VIII. 

"  Quod  quis  culpa  sua  contraxit,  majus  malum,  quod  ab 
externis  imponitur,  minus  malum."* 

THE  reason  is,  because  the  sting  and  remorse 
of  the  mind  accusing  itself  doubleth  all  adversity  : 
contrariwise,  the  considering  and  recording  in 
wardly,  that  a  man  is  clear  and  free  from  fault 
and  just  imputation,  doth  attempter  outward 
calamities.  For  if  the  evil  be  in  the  sense,  and 
in  the  conscience  both,  there  is  a  gemination 
of  it;  but  if  evil  be  in  the  one,  and  comfort  in 

*  "  That  which  a  man  hath  procured  by  his  own  default 
is  a  greater  mischief,  (or  evil :)  that  which  is  laid  on  him  by 
others  is  a  lesser  evil." 


the  other,  it  is  a  kind  of  compensation :  so  the 
poets  in  tragedies  do  make  the  most  passionate 
lamentations,  and  those  that  forerun  final  despair, 
to  be  accusing,  questioning,  and  torturing  of  a 
man's  self. 

•'  Seque  unum  clamat  causamque  caputque  malorum." 

And  contrariwise,  the  extremities  of  worthy 
persons  have  been  annihilated  in  the  consideration 
of  their  own  good  deserving.  Besides,  when 
the  evil  cometh  from  without,  there  is  left  a  kind 
of  evaporation  of  grief,  if  it  come  by  human 
injury,  either  by  indignation,  and  meditating  of 
revenge  from  ourselves,  or  by  expecting  or  fore- 
conceiving  that  Nemesis  and  retribution  will  take 
hold  of  the  authors  of  our  hurt :  or  if  it  be  by  for 
tune  or  accident,  yet  there  is  left  a  kind  of  expos 
tulation  against  the  divine  powers  ; 

"  Atque  deos  atque  astra  vocat  crudelia  mater." 

But  where  the  evil  is  derived  from  a  man's  own 
fault,  there  all  strikes  deadly  inwards  and  suffo 
cate  th. 

The  reprehension  of  this  colour  is,  first  in 
respect  of  hope,  for  reformation  of  our  faults  is 
"  in  nostra  potestate ;"  but  amendment  of  our  for 
tune  simply  is  not.  Therefore,  Demosthenes,  in 
many  of  his  orations,  saith  thus  to  the  people  of 
Athens  :  "  That  which  having  regard  to  the  time 
past  is  the  worst  point  and  circumstance  of  all  the 
rest;  that  as  to  the  time  to  come  is  the  best :  what 
is  that!  Even  this,  that  by  your  sloth,  irresolu 
tion,  and  misgovermnent,  your  affairs  are  grown 
to  this  declination  and  decay.  For  had  you  used 
and  ordered  your  means  and  forces  to  the  best, 
and  done  your  parts  every  way  to  the  full,  and, 
notwithstanding,  your  matters  should  have  gone 
backward  in  this  manner,  as  they  do,  there  had 
been  no  hope  left  of  recovery  or  reparation ;  but 
since  it  hath  been  only  by  your  own  errors,"  &c 
So  Epictetus  in  his  degrees  saith,  "The  worst 
state  of  man  is  to  accuse  external  things,  better 
than  that  to  accuse  a  man's  self,  and  best  of  all  to 
accuse  neither." 

Another  reprehension  of  this  colour  is,  in  re 
spect  of  the  well-bearing  of  evils  wherewith  a 
man  can  charge  nobody  but  himself,  which 
maketh  them  the  less 

"Leve  fit  quod  bene  fertur  onus." 

And  therefore  many  natures  that  are  either 
extremely  proud,  and  will  take  no  fault  to  them 
selves,  or  else  very  true  and  cleaving  to  themselves, 
when  they  see  the  blame  of  any  thing  that  falls 
out  ill  must  light  upon  themselves,  have  no  other 
shift  but  to  bear  it  out  well,  and  to  make  the  least 
of  it;  for  as  we  see  when  sometimes  a  fault  is 
committed,  and  before  it  be  known  who  is  to 
blame,  much  ado  is  made  of  it ;  but  after,  if  it 
appear  to  be  done  by  a  son,  or  by  a  wife,  or  by  a 
near  friend,  then  it  is  light  made  of:  so  much 
more  when  a  man  must  take  it  upon  himself. 
And  therefore  it  is  commonly  seen,  that  women 
that  rnarry  husbands  of  their  own  choosing  against 


COLOURS  OF  GOOD  AND  EVIL. 


77 


their  friends'  consents,  if  they  be  never  so  ill  used, 
yet  you  shall  seldom  see  them  complain,  but  set 
a  good  face  on  it. 

IX. 

"  Quod  opera  et  virtute  nostra  partum  est,majus  bonum; 
quod  ab  alieno  beneficio  vel  ab  indulgentia  fortune  dela- 
tum,  est  minus  bonum."* 

THE  reasons  are,  first,  the  future  hope,  because 
in  the  favours,  of  others,  or  the  good  winds  of  for 
tune,  we  have  no  state  or  certainty ;  in  our  endea 
vours  or  abilities  we  have.  So  as  when  they  have 
purchased  us  one  good  fortune,  we  have  them  as 
ready,  and  better  edged,  and  inured  to  procure 
another. 

The  forms  be  :  you  have  won  this  by  play,  you 
have  not  only  the  water,  but  you  have  the  receipt, 
you  can  make  it  again  if  it  be  lost,  &c. 

Next,  because  these  properties  which  we  enjoy 
by  the  benefit  of  others,  carry  with  them  an  obli 
gation,  which  seemeth  a  kind  of  burden  ;  whereas 
the  other,  which  derive  from  ourselves,  are  like 
the  freest  parents,  "absquealiquo  indereddendo;" 
and  if  they  proceed  from  fortune  or  providence, 
yet  they  seem  to  touch  us  secretly  with  the  reve 
rence  of  the  divine  powers,  whose  favours  we 
taste,  and  therefore  work  a  kind  of  religious  fear 
and  restraint :  whereas  in  the  other  kind,  that 
comes  to  pass  which  the  prophet  speaketh, 
"  Iffitantur  et  exultant,  immolant  plagis  suis,  et 
sacrificant  reti  suo." 

Thirdly,  because  that  which  cometh  unto  us 
without  our  own  virtue,  yieldeth  not  that  commen 
dation  and  reputation  :  for  actions  of  great  felicity 
may  draw  wonder,  but  praise  less  ;  as  Cicero  said 
to  Cassar,  "Quae  miremur,  habemus;  quze  laude- 
rnus,  expectamus." 

Fourthly,  because  the  purchases  of  our  own  in 
dustry  are  joined  commonly  with  labour  and  strife, 
which  gives  an  edge  and  appetite,  and  makes  the 
fruition  of  our  desires  more  pleasant.  "  Suavis 
cibus  a  venatu." 

On  the  other  side,  there  be  four  countercolours 
to  this  colour,  rather  than  reprehensions,  because 
they  be  as  large  as  the  colour  itself.  First,  because 
felicity  seemeth  to  be  a  character  of  the  favour  and 
love  of  the  divine  powers,  and  accordingly  worketh 
both  confidence  in  ourselves,  and  respect  and  au 
thority  from  others.  And  this  felicity  extendeth 
to  many  casual  things,  whereunto  the  care  or  virtue 
of  man  cannot  extend,  and  therefore  seemeth  to  be 
a  larger  good  ;  as  when  Caesar  said  to  the  sailor, 
"Caesaretn  portas  et  fortunam  ejus;"  if  he  had 
said,  "  et  virtutem  ejus,"  it  had  been  small  comfort 
against  a  tempest,  otherwise  than  if  it  might  seem 
upon  merit  to  induce  fortune. 

Next,  whatsoever  is  doneby  virtue  and  industry, 
seems  to  be  done  by  a  kind  of  habit  and  art,  and 

*  "Tbat  which  is  gotten  by  our  own  pains  and  industry  is 
a  greater  good  ;  that,  which  comes  by  another  man's  courtesy, 
or  the  indulgence  of  fortune,  is  a  le'sser  good." 
G    2 


therefore  open  to  be  imitated  and  followed ;  where 
as  felicity  is  inimitable :  so  we  generally  see  that 
things  of  nature  seem  more  excellent  than  things 
of  art,  because  they  be  inimitable ;  for  "  quod 
imitabile  est,  potentia  quadam  vulgatum  est." 

Thirdly,  felicity  commendeth  those  things 
which  come  without  our  labour;  for  they  seem 
gifts,  and  the  other  seem  pennyworths ;  where 
upon  Plutarch  saith  elegantly  of  the  acts  of  Ti- 
moleon,  who  was  so  fortunate,  compared  with  the 
acts  of  Agesilaus  and  Epaminondas  ;  that  they 
were  like  Homer's  verses,  they  ran  so  easily  and 
so  well.  And  therefore  it  is  the  word  we  give 
unto  poesy,  terming  it  a  happy  vein,  because  fa 
cility  seemeth  ever  to  come  from  happiness. 

Fourthly,  this  same  "prseter  spem,  vel  praeter 
expectatum,"  doth  increase  the  price  and  pleasure 
of  many  things  :  and  this  cannot  be  incident  to 
those  things  that  proceed  from  our  own  care  and 
compass. 


"  Gradus  privationis  major  videtur,  quam  gradus  diminu- 
tionis;  et  rursus  gradus  inceptionis  major  videtur,  quam 
gradus  incrementii."f 

IT  is  a  position  in  the  mathematics,  that  there  is 
no  proportion  between  something  and  nothing, 
therefore  the  degree  of  nullity  and  quiddity  or  act, 
seemeth  larger  than  the  degree  of  increase  and  de 
crease  ;  as  to  a  "  monoculus"  it  is  more  to  lose  one 
eye  than  to  a  man  that  hath  two  eyes.  So  if  one 
have  lost  divers  children,  it  is  more  grief  to  him  to 
lose  the  last  than  all  the  rest ;  because  he  is  "  spes 
gregis."  And  therefore  Sibylla,  when  she  brought 
her  three  books,  and  had  burned  two,  did  double 
the  whole  price  of  both  the  other,  because  the  burn 
ing  of  that  had  been  "  gradus  privationis,"  and 
not  "diminutionis." 

This  colour  is  reprehended  first  in  those  things, 
the  use  and  service  whereof  resteth  in  sufficiency, 
competency,  or  determinate  quantity:  as  if  a  man 
be  to  pay  one  hundred  pounds  upon  a  penalty,  it  is 
more  to  him  to  want  twelve  pence,  than  after  that 
twelve  pence  supposed  to  be  wanting,  to  want  ten 
shillings  more  ;  so  the  decay  of  a  man's  estate 
seems  to  be  most  touched  in  the  degree,  when  he 
first  grows  behind,  more  than  afterwards,  when  he 
proves  nothing  worth.  And  hereof  the  common 
forms  are,  "  Sera  in  fundo  parsimonia,"  and,  as 
good  never  a  whit,  as  never  the  better,  &c.  It  is 
reprehended  also  in  respect  of  that  notion,  "  Cor- 
ruptio  unius,  generatio  alterius  :"  so  that  "  gradus 
privationis"  is  many  times  less  matter,  because  it 
gives  the  cause  and  motive  to  some  new  course. 
As  when  Demosthenes  reprehended  the  people  for 
hearkening  to  the  conditions  offered  by  King  Philip, 
being  not  honourable  nor  equal,  he  saith  they 
were  but  aliments  of  their  sloth  and  weakness, 

t "  The  degree  of  privation  seems  greater  than  the  degree  of 
diminution  ;  and  again,  the  degree  of  inception  (or  beginning) 
seems  greater  than  the  degree  of  increase." 


78 


COLOURS  OF  GOOD  AND  EVIL. 


which  if  they  were  taken  away,  necessity  would 
teach  them  stronger  resolutions.  So  Doctor 
Hector  was  wont  to  say  to  the  dames  of  London, 
when  they  complained  they  were  they  could  not  tell 
?iow,  but  yet  they  could  not  endure  to  take  any 
medicine  ;  he  would  tell  them  their  way  was  only 
to  be  sick,  for  then  they  would  be  glad  to  take  any 
medicine. 

Thirdly,  this  colour  may  be  reprehended,  in 
respect  that  the  degree  of  decrease  is  more  sensi 
tive  than  the  degree  of  privation ;  for  in  the  mind 
of  man  "  gradus  diminutionis"  may  work  a  waver 
ing  between  hope  and  fear,  and  so  keep  the  mind 
in  suspense,  from  settling  and  accommodating 
in  patience  and  resolution.  Hereof  the  common 
forms  are,  better  eye  out  than  always  ache ;  make 
or  mar,  &c. 

For  the  second  branch  of  this  colour,  it  depends 
upon  the  same  general  reason :  hence  grew  the 
common-place  of  extolling  the  beginning  of  every 
thing:  "dimidium  facti  qui  bene  coepit  habet." 
This  made  the  astrologers  so  idle  as  to  judge  of 
a  man's  nature  and  destiny,  by  the  constellation 
of  the  moment  of  his  nativity  or  conception.  This 
colour  is  reprehended,  because  many  inceptions 
are  hut,  as  Epicurus  termeth  them,  "  tentamenta," 
mat  is,  imperfect  offers  and  essays,  which  vanish 


and  come  to  no  substance  without  an  iteration ; 
so  as  in  such  cases  the  second  degree  seems  the 
worthiest,  as  the  body-horse  in  the  cart  that  draw- 
eth  more  than  the  fore-horse.  Hereof  the  common 
forms  are,  the  second  blow  makes  the  fray,  the 
second  word  makes  the  bargain :  "  Alter  princi- 
pium  dedit,  alter  modum  abstulit,"  &c.  Another 
reprehension  of  this  colour  is  in  respect  of  defati- 
gation,  which  makes  perseverance  of  greater 
dignity  than  inception :  for  chance  or  instinct  of 
nature  may  cause  inception  :  but  settled  affection 
or  judgment  inaketh  the  continuance. 

Thirdly,  this  colour  is  reprehended  in  such 
things,  which  have  a  natural  course  and  inclination 
contrary  to  an  inception.  So  that  the  inception  is 
continually  evacuated  and  gets  no  start :  but  there 
behoveth  "  perpetua  inceptio,"  as  in  the  common 
form,  "  Non  progredi  est  regredi,  qui  non  proficit 
deficit :"  running  against  the  hill,  rowing  against 
the  stream,  &c.  For  if  it  be  with  the  stream  or 
with  the  hill,  then  the  degree  of  inception  is  more 
than  all  the  rest. 

Fourthly,  this  colour  is  to  be  understood  of  "  gra 
dus  inceptionis  a  potentia  ad  actum,  comparatus 
cum  gradu  ab  actu  ad  incrementum."  For  other 
wise  "  majur  videtur  gradus  ab  impotentia  ad 
potentiam,  quam  a  potentia  ad  actum." 


MISCELLANEOUS    TRACTS 

UPON   HUMAN  PHILOSOPHY. 


MR.  BACON  IN  PRAISE  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


SILENCE  were  the  best  celebration  of  that, 
which  I  mean  to  commend ;  for  who  would  not 
use  silence,  where  silence  is  not  made  ?  and  what 
crier  can  make  silence  in  such  a  noise  and  tumult 
of  vain  and  popular  opinions  ?  My  praise  shall 
be  dedicated  to  the  mind  itself.  The  mind  is  the 
man,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  mind.  A  man  is 
but  what  he  knoweth.  The  mind  itself  is  but  an 
accident  to  knowledge  ;  for  knowledge  is  a  double 
of  that  which  is.  The  truth  of  being,  and  the  truth 
of  knowing,  is  all  one :  and  the  pleasures  of  the 
affections  greater  than  the  pleasures  of  the  senses. 
And  are  not  the  pleasures  of  the  intellect  greater 
than  the  pleasures  of  the  affections  ?  Is  it  not  a 
true  and  only  natural  pleasure,  whereof  there  is 
no  satiety  ?  Is  it  not  knowledge  that  doth  alone 
clear  the  mind  of  all  perturbations  1  How  many 
things  are  there  which  we  imagine  not  ?  How 
many  things  do  we  esteem  and  value  otherwise 
than  they  are  1  This  ill-proportioned  estimation, 
these  vain  imaginations,  these  be  the  clouds  of 
error  that  turn  into  the  storms  of  perturbation.  Is 
there  any  such  happiness  as  for  a  man's  mind  to 
be  raised  above  the  confusion  of  things ;  where 
he  may  have  the  prospect  of  the  order  of  nature, 
and  the  error  of  men  1  Is  this  but  a  vein  only  of 
delight,  and  not  of  discovery  1  of  contentment,  and 
not  of  benefit  I  Shall  we  not  as  well  discern  the 
riches  of  nature's  warehouse,  as  the  benefit  of  her 
shop  ?  Is  truth  ever  barren  1  Shall  he  not  be 
able  thereby  to  produce  worthy  effects,  and  to 
endow  the  life  of  man  with  infinite  commodities  1 
But  shall  I  make  this  garland  to  be  put  upon  a 
wrong  head  1  Would  any  body  believe  me,  if  I 
should  verify  this,  upon  the  knowledge  that  is 
now  in  use  ]  Are  we  the  richer  by  one  poor  in 
vention,  by  reason  of  all  the  learning  that  hath 
been  these  many  hundred  years'?  The  industry 
of  artificers  maketh  some  small  improvement  of 
things  invented ;  and  chance  sometimes  in  experi 


menting,  maketh  us  to  stumble  upon  somewhat 
which  is  new :  but  all  the  disputation  of  the" 
learned  never  brought  to  light  one  effect  of  nature 
before  unknown.  "When  things  are  known  and 
found  out,  then  they  can  descant  upon  them,  they 
can  knit  them  into  certain  causes,  they  can  reduce 
them  to  their  principles.  If  any  instance  of  ex 
perience  stand  against  them,  they  can  range  it  in 
order  by  some  distinctions.  But  all  this  is  but  a 
web  of  the  wit,  it  can  work  nothing.  I  do  not 
doubt  but  that  common  notions  which  we  call  rea 
son,  and  the  knitting  of  them  together,  which  we 
call  logic,  are  the  art  of  reason  and  studies.  But 
they  rather  cast  obscurity,  than  gain  light  to  the 
contemplation  of  nature.  All  the  philosophy  of 
nature  which  is  now  received,  is  either  the  philo 
sophy  of  the  Grecians,  or  that  other  of  the  alche 
mists.  That  of  the  Grecians  hath  the  foundations 
in  words,  in  ostentation,  in  confutation,  in  sects, 
in  schools,  in  disputations.  The  Grecians  were, 
as  one  of  themselves  saith,  "you  Grecians,  ever 
children."  They  knew  little  antiquity;  they 
knew,  except  fables,  not  much  above  five  hundred 
years  before  themselves.  They  knew  but  a  small 
portion  of  the  world.  That  of  the  alchemists 
hath  the  foundation  in  imposture,  in  auricular  tra 
ditions  and  obscurity.  It  was  catching  hold  of 
religion,  but  the  principle  of  it  is,  "  Populus  vult 
decipi."  So  that  I  know  no  great  difference 
between  these  great  philosophers,  but  that  the  one 
is  a  loud  crying  folly,  and  the  other  is  a  whisper 
ing  folly.  The  one  is  gathered  out  of  a  few  vul 
gar  observations,  and  the  other  out  of  a  few  ex 
periments  of  a  furnace.  The  one  never  faileth  to 
multiply  words,  and  the  other  ever  faileth  to  mul 
tiply  gold.  Who  would  not  smile  at  Aristotle, 
when  he  admireth  the  eternity  and  invariableness 
of  the  heavens,  as  there  were  not  the  like  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth  ]  Those  be  the  confines  and 
borders  of  these  two  kingdoms,  where  the  con 

79 


80 


IN  PRAISE  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


tinued  alteration  and  incursion  are.  The  super 
ficies  and  upper  parts  of  the  earth  are  full  of 
varieties.  The  superficies  and  lower  parts  of  the 
heavens,  which  we  call  the  middle  region  of  the 
air,  is  full  of  variety.  There  is  much  spirit  in  the 
one  part,  that  cannot  be  brought  into  mass. 
There  is  much  massy  body  in  the  other  place, 
that  cannot  be  refined  to  spirit.  The  common  air 
is  as  the  waste  ground  between  the  borders. 
Who  would  not  smile  at  the  astronomers,  I  mean 
not  these  few  carmen  which  drive  the  earth  about, 
but  the  ancient  astronomers,  which  feign  the 
moon  to  be  the  swiftest  of  the  planets  in  motion, 
and  the  rest  in  order,  the  higher  the  slower ;  and 
so  are  compelled  to  imagine  a  double  motion : 
whereas  how  evident  is  it,  that  that  which  they 
call  a  contrary  motion,  is  but  an  abatement  of 
motion.  The  fixed  stars  overgo  Saturn,  and  so 
in  them  and  the  rest,  all  is  but  one  motion,  and 
the  nearer  the  earth  the  slower.  A  motion  also 
whereof  air  and  water  do  participate,  though  much 
interrupted.  But  why  do  I  in  a  conference  of 
pleasure  enter  these  great  matters,  in  sort  that 
pretending  to  know  much,  I  should  forget  what  is 
seasonable  1  Pardon  me,  it  was  because  all 
things  may  be  endowed  and  adorned  with 
speeches,  but  knowledge  itself  is  more  beautiful 
than  any  apparel  of  words  that  can  be  put  upon 
it.  And  let  me  not  seem  arrogant  without  re 
spect  to  these  great  reputed  authors.  Let  me  so 
give  every  man  his  due,  as  I  give  time  his  due, 
which  is  to  discover  truth.  Many  of  these  men 
had  greater  wits,  far  above  mine  own,  and  so  are 


many  in  the  Universities  of  Europe  at  this  day. 
But  alas,  they  learn  nothing  there  but  to  believe  : 
first,  to  believe  that  others  know  that  which  they 
know  not ;  and  after,  themselves  know  that  which 
they  know  not.  But  indeed  facility  to  believe, 
impatience  to  doubt,  temerity  to  answer,  glory  to 
know,  doubt  to  contradict,  end  to  gain,  sloth  to 
search,  seeking  things  in  words,  resting  in  part 
of  nature ;  these  and  the  like,  have  been  the 
things  which  have  forbidden  the  happy  match 
between  the  mind  of  man  and  the  nature  of 
things ;  and  in  place  thereof  have  married  it  to 
vain  notions  and  blind  experiments :  and  what  the 
posterity  and  issue  of  so  honourable  a  match  may 
be,  it  is  not  hard  to  consider.  Printing,  a  gross 
invention ;  artillery,  a  thing  that  lay  not  far  out 
of  the  way  ;  the  needle,  a  thing  partly  known  be 
fore  :  what  a  change  have  these  three  made  in  the 
world  in  these  times;  the  one  in  state  of  learning, 
the  other  in  state  of  the  war,  the  third  in  the  state 
of  treasure,  commodities,  and  navigation  1  And 
those,  I  say,  were  but  stumbled  upon  and  lighted 
upon  by  chance.  Therefore,  no  doubt,  the  so 
vereignty  of  man  lieth  hid  in  knowledge ;  wherein 
many  things  are  reserved,  which  kings  with  their 
treasure  cannot  buy,  nor  with  their  force  com 
mand  ;  their  spials  and  intelligencers  can  give  no 
news  of  them,  tlieir  seamen  and  discoverers  cannot 
sail  where  they  grow :  now  we  govern  nature  in 
opinions,  but  we  are  thrall  unto  her  in  necessity ; 
but  if  we  would  be  led  by  her  in  invention,  we 
should  command  her  in  action. 


VALERIUS    TERMINUS 


OF 


THE    INTERPRETATION    OF    NATURE 

WITH    THE 

ANNOTATIONS  OF  HERMES  STELLA. 

A  FEW  FRAGMENTS  OF  THE  FIRST  BOOK 

[None  of  the  Annotations  of  Stella  are  set  down  in  these  Fragments.  ] 


CHAPTER  I. 

Of  the  limits  and  end  of  knowledge. 

IN  the  divine  nature,  both  religion  and  philoso 
phy  hath  acknowledged  goodness  in  perfection, 
science  or  providence  comprehending  all  things, 
and  absolute  sovereignty  or  kingdom.  In  aspir 
ing  to  the  throne  of  power,  the  angels  transgress 
ed  and  fell ;  in  presuming  to  come  within  the 
oracle  of  knowledge,  man  transgressed  and  fell; 
but  in  pursuit  towards  the  similitude  of  God's 
goodness  or  love,  which  is  one  thing,  for  love  is 
nothing  else  but  goodness  put  in  motion  or  applied, 
neither  man  or  spirit  ever  hath  transgressed,  or 
shall  tnnsgress. 

The  angel  of  light  that  was,  when  he  presumed 
before  his  fall,  said  within  himself,  "I  will  ascend 
and  be  like  unto  the  Highest;"  not  God,  but  the 
Highest.  To  be  like  to  God  in  goodness,  was  no 
part  of  his  emulation :  knowledge,  being  in  crea 
tion  an  angel  of  light,  was  not  the  want  which 
did  most  solicit  him ;  only  because  he  was  a  mi 
nister  he  aimed  at  a  supremacy;  therefore  his 
climbing  or  ascension  was  turned  into  a  throwing 
down  or  precipitation. 

Man,  on  the  other  side,  when  he  was  tempted 
before  he  fell,  had  offered  unto  him  this  suggestion, 
"that  he  should  belike  unto  God."  Buthow"1? 
not  simply,  but  in  this  part,  "  knowing  good  and 
evil."  For  being  in  his  creation  invested  with 
sovereignty  of  all  inferior  creatures,  he  was  not 
needy  of  power  or  dominion.  But  again,  being 
a  spirit  newly  enclosed  in  a  body  of  earth,  he  was 
fittest  to  be  allured  with  appetite  of  light  and 
liberty  of  knowledge.  Therefore  this  approaching 

VOL.  I.— 11 


and  intruding  into  God's  secrets  and  mysteries, 
was  rewarded  with  a  further  removing  and  estrang 
ing  from  God's  presence.  But  as  to  the  good 
ness  of  God,  there  is  no  danger  in  contending  or 
advancing  towards  a  similitude  thereof;  as  that 
which  is  open  and  propounded  to  our  imitation. 
For  that  voice,  whereof  the  heathen  and  all  other 
errors  of  religion  have  ever  confessed  that  it 
sounds  not  like  man,  "Love  your  enemies;  be 
you  like  unto  your  heavenly  Father,  that  suffereth 
his  rain  to  fall  both  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust," 
doth  well  declare,  that  we  can  in  that  point  com 
mit  no  excess.  So  again  we  find  it  often  repeated 
in  the  old  law,  "  Be  ye  holy  as  I  am  holy  ;"  and 
what  is  holiness  else  but  goodness,  as  we  con 
sider  it  separate  and  guarded  from  all  mixture, 
and  all  access  of  evil ! 

Wherefore  seeing  that  knowledge  is  of  the  num 
ber  of  those  things  which  are  to  be  accepted  of 
with  caution  and  distinction  ;  being  now  to  open 
a  fountain,  such  as  it  is  not  easy  to  discern  where 
the  issues  and  streams  thereof  will  take  and  fall ; 
I  thought  it  good  and  necessary  in  the  first  place, 
to  make  a  strong  and  sound  head  or  bank  to  rule 
and  guide  the  course  of  the  waters ;  by  setting 
down  this  position  or  firmament,  namely,  "  That 
all  knowledge  is  to  be  limited  by  religion,  and  to 
be  referred  to  use  and  action." 

For  if  any  man  shall  think,  by  view  and  inqui 
ry  into  these  sensible  and  material  things,  to  attain 
to  any  light  for  the  revealing  of  the  nature  or  will 
of  God,  he  shall  dangerously  abuse  himself.  It 
is  true,  that  the  contemplation  of  the  creatures  of 
God  hath  for  end,  as  to  the  natures  of  the  creatures 
themselves,  knowledge ;  but  as  to  the  nature  of 

81 


82 


ON  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


God,  no  knowledge,  but  wonder ;  which  is  nothing 
else  but  contemplation  broken  off,  or  losing  itself. 
Nay  further,  as  it  was  aptly  said  by  one  of  Plato's 
school,  "  the  sense  of  man  resembles  the  sun, 
which  openeth  and  revealeth  the  terrestrial  globe, 
but  obscureth  and  concealeth  the  celestial;"  so 
doth  the  sense  discover  natural  things,  but  darken 
and  shut  up  divine.  And  this  appeareth  sufficient 
ly  in  that  there  is  no  proceeding  in  invention  of 
knowledge,  but  by  similitude  ;  and  God  is  only 
self-like,  having  nothing  in  common  with  any 
creature,  otherwise  as  in  shadow  and  trope.  There 
fore  attend  his  will  as  himself  openeth  it,  and 
give  unto  faith  that  which  unto  faith  belongeth  ; 
for  more  worthy  it  is  to  believe  than  to  think  or 
know,  considering  that  in  knowledge,  as  we  now 
are  capable  of  it,  the  mind  suffereth  from  inferior 
natures  ;  but  in  all  belief  it  suffereth  from  a  spirit, 
which  it  holdeth  superior,  and  more  authorized 
than  itself. 

To  conclude;  the  prejudice  hath  been  infinite, 
that  both  divine  and  human  knowledge  hath  re 
ceived  by  the  intermingling  and  tempering  of  the 
one  with  the  other  :  as  that  which  hath  filled  the 
one  full  of  heresies,  and  the  other  full  of  specula 
tive  fictions  and  vanities. 

But  now  there  arc  again,  which,  in  a  contrary 
extremity  to  those  which  give  to  contemplation 
an  over-large  scope,  do  offer  too  great  a  restraint 
to  natural  and  lawful  knowledge  ;  being  unjustly 
jealous  that  every  reach  and  depth  of  knowledge 
wherewith  their  conceits  have  not  been  acquaint 
ed,  should  be  too  high  an  elevation  of  man's  wit, 
and  a  searching  and  ravelling  too  far  into  God's 
secrets ;  an  opinion  that  ariseth  either  of  envy, 
which  is  proud  weakness,  and  to  be  censured  and 
not  confuted,  or  else  of  a  deceitful  simplicity. 
For  if  they  mean  that  the  ignorance  of  a  second 
cause  doth  make  men  more  devoutly  to  depend 
upon  the  providence  of  God,  as  supposing  the  ef 
fects  to  come  immediately  from  his  hand  ;  I  de 
mand  of  them,  as  Job  demanded  of  his  friends, 
"Will  you  lie  for  God,  as  man  will  for  man 
to  gratify  him?"  But  if  any  man,  without  any 
sinister  humour,  doth  indeed  make  doubt  that 
this  digging  further  and  further  into  the  mine  of 
natural  knowledge,  is  a  thing  without  example, 
and  uncommended  in  the  Scriptures,  or  fruitless  ; 
let  him  remember  and  be  instructed  :  for  behold 
it  was  not  that  pure  light  of  natural  knowledge, 
whereby  man  in  paradise  was  able  to  give  unto 
every  living  creature  a  name  according  to  his  pro 
priety,  which  gave  occasion  to  the  fall ;  but  it  was 
an  aspiring  desire  to  attain  to  that  part  of  moral 
knowledge,  which  denneth  of  good  and  evil, 
whereby  to  dispute  God's  commandments,  and 
not  to  depend  upon  the  revelation  of  his  will, 
which  was  the  original  temptation.  And  the  first 
holy  records,  which  within  those  brief  memorials 
of  things  which  passed  before  the  flood,  entered 
few  things  as  worthy  to  be  registered,  but  only 


lineages  and  propagations,  yet  nevertheless  honour 
the  remembrance  of  the  inventor  both  of  music 
and  works  in  metal.  Moses  again,  who  was  the 
reporter,  is  said  to  have  been  seen  in  all  the  Egyp 
tian  learning,  which  nation  was  early  and  leading 
in  matter  of  knowledge.  And  Solomon  the  king, 
as  out  of  a  branch  of  his  wisdom  extraordinarily 
petitioned  and  granted  from  God,  is  said  to  have 
written  a  natural  history  of  all  that  is  green,  from 
the  cedar  to  the  moss,  which  is  but  a  rudiment  be 
tween  putrefaction  and  an  herb,  and  also  of  all 
that  liveth  and  moveth.  And  if  the  book  of  Job 
be  turned  over,  it  will  be  found  to  have  much  as 
persion  of  natural  philosophy.  Nay,  the  same 
Solomon  the  king  affirmeth  directly,  that  the  glory 
of  God  "  is  to  conceal  a  thing,  but  the  glory  of 
the  king  is  to  find  it  out,"  as  if,  according  to  the 
innocent  play  of  children,  the  Divine  Majesty 
took  delight  to  hide  his  works,  to  the  end  to  have 
them  found  out ;  for  in  naming  the  king  he  intend- 
eth  man,  taking  such  a  condition  of  man  as  hath 
most  excellency  and  greatest  commandments  of 
wits  and  means,  alluding  also  to  his  own  person, 
being  truly  one  of  those  clearest  burning  lamps, 
whereof  himself  speaketh  in  another  place,  when 
he  saith,  "The  spirit  of  man  is  as  the  lamp  of  God, 
wherewith  he  searcheth  all  inwardness ;"  which 
nature  of  the  soul  the  same  Solomon,  holding  pre 
cious  and  inestimable,  and  therein  conspiring  with 
the  affection  of  Socrates,  wrho  scorned  the  prete^d- 
ed  learned  men  of  his  time  for  raising  great  benefit 
of  their  learning,  whereas  Anaxagoras  contrari 
wise,  and  divers  others',  being  born  to  ample  patri 
monies,  decayed  them  in  contemplation,  delivereth 
it  in  precept  yet  remaining,  "  Buy  the  truth  and 
sell  it  not ;  and  so  of  wisdom  and  knowledge." 

And  lest  any  man  should  retain  a  scruple,  as  if 
this  thirst  of  knowledge  \vere  rather  an  humour  of 
the  mind,  than  an  emptiness  or  want  in  nature, 
and  an  instinct  from  God  ;  the  same  author  defineth 
of  it  fully,  saying,  "  God  hath  made  every  thing 
in  beauty  according  to  season  ;  also  he  hath  set 
the  world  in  man's  heart,  yet  can  he  not  find  out 
the  work  which  God  worketh  from  the  beginning 
to  the  end  :"  declaring  not  obscurely  that  God  hath 
framed  the  mind  of  man  as  a  glass,  capable  of  the 
image  of  the  universal  world,  joying  to  receive  the 
signature  thereof,  as  the  eye  is  of  light;  yea,  not 
only  satisfied  in  beholding  the  variety  of  things, 
and  vicissitude  of  times,  but  raised  also  to  find  out 
and  discern  those  ordinances  and  decrees,  which 
throughout  all  these  changes  are  infallibly 
observed.  And  although  the  highest  generality 
of  motion,  or  summary  law  of  nature,  God  should 
still  reserve  within  his  own  curtain ;  yet  many 
and  noble  are  the  inferior  and  secondary  operations 
which  are  within  man's  sounding.  This  is  a  thing 
which  I  cannot  tell  whether  I  may  so  plainly  speak 
as  truly  conceive,  that  as  all  knowledge  appeareth 
to  be  a  plant  of  God's  own  planting,  so  it  may  seem 
the  spreading  and  flourishing,  or  at  least  the  bear- 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


83 


ing  and  fructifying  of  this  plant,  by  a  providence 
of  God,  nay,  not  only  by  a  general  providence 
but  by  a  special  prophecy,  was  appointed  to 
this  autumn  of  the  world  :  for  to  my  understand 
ing,  it  is  not  violent  to  the  letter,  and  safe  now 
after  the  event,  so  to  interpret  that  place  in  the 
prophecy  of  Daniel,  where,  speaking  of  the  latter 
times,  it  is  said,  "  Many  shall  pass  to  and  fro,  and 
science  shall  be  increased ;"  as  if  the  opening  of 
the  world  by  navigation  and  commerce,  and  the 
further  discovery  of  knowledge,  should  meet  in  one 
time  or  age. 

But  howsoever  that  be,  there  are  besides  the 
authorities  of  Scriptures  before  recited,  two  reasons 
of  exceeding  great  weight  and  force,  why  religion 
should  dearly  protect  all  increase  of  natural  know 
ledge  :  the  one,  because  it  leadeth  to  the  greater 
exaltation  of  the  glory  of  God  ;  for  as  the  Psalms 
and  other  Scriptures  do  often  invite  us  to  consider, 
and  to  magnify  the  great  and  wonderful  works  of 
God ;  so  if  we  should  rest  only  in  the  contempla 
tion  of  those  shows  which  first  offer  themselves  to 
our  senses,  we  should  do  a  like  injury  to  the 
majesty  of  God,  as  if  we  should  judge  of  the  store 
of  some  excellent  jeweller,  by  that  only  which  is 
set  out  to  the  street  in  his  shop.  The  other  reason 
is,  because  it  is  a  singular  help  and  preservative 
against  unbelief  and  error :  for  saith  our  Saviour, 
"You  err,  not  knowing  the  Scriptures,  nor  the 
power  of  God ;"  laying  before  us  two  books  or 
volumes  to  study,  if  we  will  be  secured  from  error ; 
first  the  Scriptures  revealing  the  will  of  God,  and 
then  the  creatures  expressing  his  power ;  for  that 
latter  book  will  certify  us,  that  nothing  which  the 
first,  teacheth  shall  be  thought  impossible.  And 
most  sure  it  is,  and  a  true  conclusion  of  experience, 
that  a  little  natural  philosophy  inclineth  the  mind 
to  atheism,  but  a  further  proceeding  bringeth  the 
mind  back  to  religion. 

To  conclude  then :  Let  no  man  presume  to 
check  the  liberality  of  God's  gifts,  who,  as  was 
said,  "hath  set  the  world  in  man's  heart."  So 
as  whatsoever  is  not  God,  but  parcel  of  the  world, 
he  hath  fitted  it  to  the  comprehension  of  man's 
mind,  if  man  will  open  and  dilate  the  powers  of 
his  understanding  as  he  may. 

But  yet  evermore  it  must  be  remembered,  that 
the  least  part  of  knowledge  passed  to  man  by  this 
so  large  a  charter  from  God,  must  be  subject  to 
that  use  for  which  God  hath  granted  it,  which  is 
the  benefit  and  relief  of  the  state  and  society  of 
man :  for  otherwise  all  manner  ^i  knowledge  be- 
cometh  malign  and  serpentine,  and  therefore,  as 
carrying  the  quality  of  the  serpent's  sting  and 
malice,  it  maketh  the  mind  of  man  to  swell ;  as 
the  Scripture  sayeth  excellently,  "  Knowledge 
bloweth  up,  but  charity  buildeth  up."  And  again, 
the  same  author  doth  notably  disavow  both  power 
and  knowledge,  such  as  is  not  dedicated  to  good- 
r.ees  or  love ;  for  saith  he,  "  If  I  have  all  faith,  so 
*&  i  could  remove  mountains,"  there  is  power 


active;  "If  I  render  my  body  to  the  fire,"  there 
is  power  passive ;  "  If  I  speak  with  the  tongues 
of  men  and  angels,"  there  is  knowledge,  for  lan 
guage  is  but  the  conveyance  of  knowledge,  "  all 
were  nothing." 

And  therefore  it  is  not  the  pleasure  of  curiosity, 
nor  the  quiet  of  resolution,  nor  the  raising  of  the 
spirit,  nor  victory  of  wit,  nor  faculty  of  speech, 
nor  lucre  of  profession,  nor  ambition  of  honour  or 
fame,  or  inablement  for  business,  that  are  the  true 
ends  of  knowledge;  some  of  these  being  more 
worthy  than  other,  though  all  inferior  and  dege 
nerate  :  but  it  is  a  restitution  and  reinvesting,  in 
great  part,  of  man  to  the  sovereignty  and  power, 
for  whensoever  he  shall  be  able  to  call  the  crea 
tures  by  their  true  names,  he  shall  again  command 
them,  which  he  had  in  his  first  state  of  creation. 
And  to  speak  plainly  and  clearly,  it  is  a  discovery 
of  all  operations  and  possibilities  of  operations 
from  immortality,  if  it  were  possible,  to  the  mean 
est  mechanical  practice.  And  therefore  know 
ledge,  that  tendeth  but  to  satisfaction,  is  but  as  a 
courtesan,  which  is  for  pleasure,  and  not  for  fruit 
or  generation.  And  knowledge  that  tendeth  to 
profit  or  profession,  or  glory,  is  but  as  the  golden 
ball  thrown  before  Atalanta ;  which  while  she 
goeth  aside,  and  stoopeth  to  take  up,  she  hindereth 
the  race.  And  knowledge  referred  to  some  parti 
cular  point  of  use,  is  but  as  Harmodius,  which 
putteth  down  one  tyrant :  and  not  like  Hercules, 
who  did  perambulate  the  world  to  suppress  tyrants 
and  giants  and  monsters  in  every  part. 

It  is  true,  that  in  two  points  the  curse  is  peremp 
tory,  and  not  to  be  removed :  the  one,  that  vanity 
must  be  the  end  in  all  human  effects;  eternity 
being  resumed  though  the  revolutions  and  periods 
may  be  delayed.  The  other,  that  the  consent  of 
the  creature  being  now  turned  into  reluctation,  this 
power  cannot  otherwise  be  exercised  and  admi 
nistered  but  with  labour,  as  well  in  inventing  as 
in  executing;  yet  nevertheless  chiefly  that  labour 
and  travel  which  is  described  by  the  sweat  of  the 
brows,  more  than  of  the  body ;  that  is,  such  travel 
as  is  joined  with  the  working  and  discursion  of 
the  spirits  in  the  brain  :  for  as  Solomon  saith  ex 
cellently,  "The  fool  putteth  to  more  strength,  but 
the  wise  man  considereth  which  way ;"  signifying 
the  election  of  the  mean  to  be  more  material  than 
the  multiplication  of  endeavour.  It  is  true  also 
that  there  is  a  limitation  rather  potential  than 
actual,  which  is  when  the  effect  is  possible,  but 
the  time  or  place  yieldeth  not  the  matter  or  basis 
whereupon  man  should  work.  But  notwithstand 
ing  these  precincts  and  bounds,  let  it  be  believed, 
and  appeal  thereof  made  to  time,  with  renunciation 
nevertheless  to  all  the  vain  and  abusing  promises 
of  alchemists  and  magicians,  and  such  like  light, 
idle,  ignorant,  credulous,  and  fantastical  wits  and 
sects,  that  the  new-found  world  of  land  was  not 
greater  addition  to  the  ancient  continent,  than  there 
remaineth  at  this  day  a  world  of  inventions  and 


84 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


sciences  unknown,  having  respect  to  those  that 
are  known,  with  this  difference,  that  the  ancient 
regions  of  knowledge  will  seem  as  barbarous, 
compared  with  the  new ;  as  the  new  regions  of 
people  seem  barbarous,  compared  to  many  of  the 
old. 

The  dignity  of  this  end,  of  endowment  of  man's 
life  with  new  commodities,  appeareth  by  the  esti 
mation  that  antiquity  made  of  such  as  guided 
thereunto ;  for  whereas  founders  of  states,  law 
givers,  extirpers  of  tyrants,  fathers  of  the  people, 
were  honoured  but  with  the  titles  of  worthies 
or  demigods,  inventors  were  ever  consecrated 
amongst  the  gods  themselves.  And  if  the  ordi 
nary  ambitions  of  men  lead  them  to  seek  the 
amplification  of  their  own  power  in  their  coun 
tries,  and  a  better  ambition  than  that  hath  moved 
men  to  seek  the  amplification  of  the  power  of 
their  own  countries  amongst  other  nations  :  better 
again  and  more  worthy  must  that  aspiring  be, 
which  secketh  the  amplification  of  the  power  and 
kingdom  of  mankind  over  the  world  :  the  rather, 
because  the  other  two  prosecutions  are  ever  cul 
pable  of  much  perturbation  and  injustice ;  but  this 
is  a  work  truly  divine,  which  cometh  "in  aura 
leni,"  without  noise  or  observation. 

The  access  also  to  this  work  hath  been  by  that 
port  or  passage,  which  the  Divine  Majesty,  who 
is  unchangeable  in  his  ways,  doth  infallibly  con 
tinue  and  observe;  that  is,  the  felicity  wherewith 
he  hath  blessed  an  humility  of  mind,  such  as 
rather  laboureth  to  spell,  and  so  by  degrees  to 
read  in  the  volumes  of  his  creatures,  than  to  solicit 
and  urge,  and  as  it  wers  to  invocate  a  man's  own 
spirit  to  divine,  and  give  oracles  unto  him.  For 
as  in  the  inquiry  of  divine  truth,  the  pride  of  man 
hath  ever  inclined  to  leave  the  oracles  of  God's 
word,  and  to  vanish  in  the  mixture  of  their  own 
inventions ;  so  in  the  selfsame  manner,  in  inqui 
sition  of  nature,  they  have  ever  left  the  oracles  of 
God's  works,  and  adored  the  deceiving  and  de 
formed  imagery,  which  the  unequal  mirrors  of 
their  own  minds  have  represented  unto  them. 
Nay,  it  is  a  point  fit  and  necessary  in  the  front, 
and  beginning  of  this  work,  without  hesitation  or 
reservation  to  be  professed,  that  it  is  no  less  true 
in  this  human  kingdom  of  knowledge,  than  in 
God's  kingdom  of  heaven,  that  no  man  shall  enter 
into  it,  "except  he  become  first  as  a  little  child." 

Of  the  impediments  of  knowledge. 
Being  the  IVth  chapter,  the  preface  only  of  it. 

IN  some  things  it  is  more  hard  to  attempt  than 
to  achieve;  which  falleth  out,  when  the  difficulty 
is  not  so  much  in  the  matter  or  subject,  as  it  is  in 
the  crossness  and  indisposition  of  the  mind  of 
man  to  think  of  any  such  thing,  to  will  or  to  re 
solve  it;  and  therefore  Titus  Liviusr  in  his  decla 
matory  digression,  wherein  he  doth  depress  and 
extenuate  the  honour  of  Alexander's  conquests 


saith,  "  Nihil  aliud  quam  bene  ausus  vana  con- 
temnere:"  in  which  sort  of  things  it  is  the  man 
ner  of  men  first  to  wonder  that  any  such  thing 
should  be  possible,  and  after  it  is  found  out,  to 
wonder  again  how  the  world  should  miss  it  so 
long.  Of  this  nature  I  take  to  be  the  invention 
and  discovery  of  knowledge,  &c. 

The  impediments  ivhich  have  been  in  the  times,  and 
in  diversion  of  wits. 

Being  the  Vth  chapter,  a  small  fragment  in  the 
beginning  of  that  chapter. 

THE  encounters  of  the  times  have  been  nothing 
favourable  arid  prosperous  for  the  invention  of 
knowledge,  so  as  it  is  not  only  the  daintiness  of 
the  seed  to  take,  and  the  ill  mixture  and  unliking 
of  the  ground  to  nourish  or  raise  this  plant,  but 
the  ill  season  also  of  the  weather,  by  which  it 
hath  been  checked  and  blasted.  Especially  in 
that  the  seasons  have  been  proper  to  bring  up  and 
sot  forward  other  more  hasty  and  indifferent  plants, 
whereby  this  of  knowledge  hath  been  starved  and 
overgrown ;  for  in  the  descent  of  times  always 
there  hath  been  somewhat  else  in  reign  and  repu 
tation,  which  hath  generally  aliened  and  diverted 
wits  and  labours  from  that  employment. 

For  as  for  the  uttermost  antiquity,  which  is  like 
fame  that  mufilos  her  head,  and  tells  tales,  I  can 
not  presume  much  of  it;  for  I  would  not  willingly 
imitate  the  manner  of  those  that  describe  maps, 
which  vrhen  they  come  to  some  far  countries, 
whereof  they  have  no  knowledge,  set  down  how 
there  be  great  wastes  and  deserts  there :  so  I  am 
not  apt  to  affirm  that  they  knew  little,  because 
what  they  knew  is  little  known  to  us.  But  if  you 
will  judge  of  them  by  the  last  traces  that  remain 
to  us,  you  will  conclude,  though  not  so  scornfully 
as  Aristotle  doth,  that  snith  our  ancestors  were 
extreme  gross,  as  those  that  came  newly  frcm 
being  moulded  out  of  the  clay,  or  some  earthly 
substance;  yet  reasonably  and  probably  thus, 
that  it  was  with  them  in  matter  of  knowledge, 
but  as  the  dawning  or  break  of  dny.  For  at  that 
time  the  world  was  altogether  hcme-bred,  every 
nation  looked  little  beyond  their  own  confines  or 
territories,  and  the  world  had  no  thorough  lights 
then,  as  it  hath  had  since  by  commerce  and  navi 
gation,  whereby  there  could  neither  be  that  con 
tribution  of  wits  one  to  help  another,  nor  that 
variety  of  particulars  for  the  correcting  the  custo 
mary  conceits. 

And  as  there  could  be  no  great  collection  of  wits 
of  several  parts  or  nations,  so  neither  could  there 
be  any  succession  of  wits  of  several  times,  where 
by  one  might  refine  the  other,  in  regard  they  had 
not  history  to  any^  purpose.  And  the  manner  of 
their  traditions  was  utterly  unfit  and  improper  for 
amplification  of  knowledge.  And  again,  the  stu 
dies  of  those  times,  you  shall  find,  besides  wars, 
incursions,  and  rapines,  which  w^iv  *hen  almos* 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


85 


everywhere  betwixt  states  adjoining,  the  use  of 
leagues  and  confederacies  being  not  then  known, 
were  to  populate  by  multitude  of  wives  and  gene 
ration,  a  thing  at  this  day  in  the  waster  part  of  the 
West  Indies  principally  effected ;  and  to  build, 
sometimes  for  habitation,  towns  and  cities ;  some 
times  for  fame  and  memory,  monuments,  pyramids, 
colosses,  and  the  like.  And  if  there  happened  to 
rise  up  any  more  civil  wits ;  then  would  he  found 
and  erect  some  new  laws,  customs,  and  usages, 
such  as  now  of  late  years,  when  the  world  was 
revolute  almost  to  the  like  rudeness  and  obscurity, 
we  see  both  in  our  own  nation  and  abroad  many 
examples  of,  as  well  in  a  number  of  tenures  re 
served  upon  men's  lands,  as  in  divers  customs  of 
towns  and  manors,  being  the  devises  that  such 
wits  wrought  upon  in  such  times  of  deep  igno 
rance,  &c. 

The  impediments  of  knowledge  for  want  of  a  true 
succession  of  wits,  and  that  hitherto  the  length  of 
one  mail's  life  hath  been  the  greatest  measure  of 
knowledge. 
Being  the  Vlth  chapter,  the  whole  chapter. 

IN  arts  mechanical  the  first  devise  cometh  short 
est,  and  time  addeth  and  perfecteth.  But  in 
sciences  of  conceit,  the  first  author  goeth  furthest, 
and  time  leeseth  and  corrupteth.  Painting,  artil 
lery,  sailing,  and  the  like,  grossly  managed  at 
first,  by  time  accommodate  and  refined.  The 
philosophies  and  sciences  of  Aristotle,  Plato, 
Democritus,  Hippocrates,  of  most  vigour  at  first, 
by  time  degenerated  and  imbased.  In  the  former, 
many  wits  and  industries  contributed  in  one.  In 
the  latter  many  men's  wits  spent  to  deprave  the 
wit  of  one. 

The  error  is  both  in  the  deliverer  and  in  the 
receiver.  He  that  delivereth  knowledge,  desireth 
to  deliver  it  in  such  form  as  may  be  soonest  be 
lieved,  and  not  as  may  easiliest  be  examined.  He 
that  receiveth  knowledge  desireth  rather  present 
satisfaction  than  expectant  search,  and  so  rather 
not  to  doubt  than  not  to  err.  Glory  maketh  the 
author  not  lay  open  his  weakness;  and  sloth 
maketh  the  disciple  not  to  know  his  strength. 

Then  begin  men  to  aspire  to  the  second  prizes, 
to  be  a  profound  interpreter  and  commenter,  to  be 
a  sharp  champion  and  defender,  to  be  a  methodical 
compounder  and  abridger.  And  this  is  the  unfor 
tunate  succession  of  wits  which  the  world  hath 
yet  had,  whereby  the  patrimony  of  all  knowledge 
goeth  not  on  husbanded  or  improved,  but  wasted 
and  decayed.  For  knowledge  is  like  a  water,  that 
will  never  arise  again  higher  than  the  level  from 
Avhich  it  fell.  And  therefore  to  go  beyond  Aris- 
totlo  by  the  light  of  Aristotle,  is  to  think  that  a 
borrowed  light  can  increase  the  original  light  from 
whom  it  is  taken.  So  then,  no  true  succession 
of  wits  having  been  in  the  world  ;  either  we  mus 
••onclude,  that  knowledge  is  but  a  task  for  one 


nan's  life,  and  then  vain  was  the  complaint,  that 
'life  is  short,  and  art  is  long:"  or  else,  that  the 
nowledge  that  now  is,  is  but  a  shrub ;  and  not 
hat  tree  which  is  never  dangerous,  but  where  it 
5  to  the  purpose  of  knowing  good  and  evil ;  which 
esire  ever  riseth  upon  an  appetite  to  elect,  and 
lot  to  obey,  and  so  containeth  in  it  a  manifest 
[election. 

That  the  pretended  succession  of  wits  hath  been 
evil  placed,  for  as  much  as  after  variety  of  sects 
and  opinions,  the  most  popular  and  not  the  truest 
prevaileth  and  wearelh  out  the  rest. 

Being  the  Vllth  chapter,  a  fragment. 

IT  is  sensible  to  think,  that  when  men  enter  first 
nto  search  and  inquiry,  according  to  the  several 
rames  and  compositions  of  their  understanding, 
hey  light  upon  differing  conceits,  and  so  all  opi 
nions  and  doubts  are  beaten  over ;  and  then  men 
laving  made  a  taste  of  all,  wax  weary  of  variety, 
md  so  reject  the  worst,  and  hold  themselves  to 
;he  best,  either  some  one,  if  it  be  eminent :  or 
some  two  or  three,  if  they  be  in  some  equality ; 
which  afterwards  are  received  and  carried  on,  and 
he  rest  extinct. 

But  truth  is  contrary;  and  that  time  is  like  a 
river  which  carrieth  down  things  which  are  light 
and  blown  up,  and  sinketh  and  drowneth  that 
which  is  sad  and  weighty.  For  howsoever 
governments  have  several  forms,  sometimes  one 
•overning,  sometimes  few,  sometimes  the  multi 
tude  ;  yet  the  state  of  knowledge  is  ever  a  demo 
cracy,  and  that  prevaileth  which  is  most  agreeable 
to  the  senses  and  conceits  of  people.  As  for  ex 
ample,  there  is  no  great  doubt,  but  he  that  did  put 
the  beginnings  of  things  to  be  solid,  void,  and 
motion  to  the  centre,  was  in  better  earnest  than 
he  that  put  matter,  form,  and  shift ;  or  he  that  put 
the  mind,  motion,  and  matter.  For  no  man  shall 
enter  into  inquisition  of  nature,  but  shall  pass  by 
that  opinion  of  Democritus ;  whereas  he  shall 
never  come  near  the  other  two  opinions,  but  leave 
them  aloof,  for  the  schools  and  table-talk.  Yet 
those  of  Aristotle  and  Plato,  because  they  be  both 
agreeable  to  popular  sense,  and  the  one  was  uttered 
with  subtilty  and  the  spirit  of  contradiction,  and1 
the  other  with  a  style  of  ornament  and  majesty, 
did  hold  out,  and  the  other  gave  place,  &c. 

Of  the  impediments  of  knowledge,  in  handling  it 
by  parts,  and  in  slipping  off  particular  sciences 
from  the  root  and  stock  of  universal  knowledge. 

Being  the  VHIth  chapter,  the  whole  chapter. 

CICERO,  the  oratd,  willing  to  magnify  his  own 
profession,  and  thereupon  spending  many  words 
to  maintain  that  eloquence  was  not  a  shop  of  good 
words  and  elegancies,  but  a  treasury  and  receipt 
of  all  knowledges,  so  far  forth  as  may  appertain 
to  the  handling  and  moving  of  the  minds  and 
H 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


affections  of  men  by  speech,  maketh  great  com 
plaint  of  the  school  of  Socrates ;  that  whereas 
before  his  time  the  same  professors  of  wisdom  in 
Greece  did  pretend  to  teach  an  universal  sapience 
and  knowledge  both  of  matter  and  words,  Socra 
tes  divorced  them,  and  withdrew  philosophy,  and 
left  rhetoric  to  itself,  which  by  that  destitution 
became  but  a  barren  and  unnoble  science.  And 
in  particular  sciences  we  see,  that  if  men  fall  to 
subdivide  their  labours,  as  to  be  an  oculist  in 
physic,  or  to  be  perfect  in  some  one  title  of  the 
law  or  the  like,  they  may  prove  ready  and  subtile, 
but  not  deep  or  sufficient,  no,  not  in  that  subject 
which  they  do  particularly  attend,  because  of  that 
consent  which  it  hath  wi.th  the  rest.  And  it  is  a 
matter  of  common  discourse  of  the  chain  of  sci 
ences,  how  they  are  linked  together,  insomuch  as 
the  Grecians,  who  had  terms  at  will,  have  fitted 
it  of  a  name  of  Circle-Learning.  Nevertheless  1 
that  hold  it  for  a  great  impediment  towards  the 
advancement  and  further  invention  of  knowledge, 
that  particular  arts  and  sciences  have  been  disin 
corporated  from  general  knowledge,  do  not  under 
stand  one  and  the  same  thing,  which  Cicero's 
discourse  and  the  note  and  conceit  of  the  Gre 
cians  in  their  word  Circle-Learning  do  intend. 
For  I  mean  not  that  use  which  one  science  hath 
of  another  for  ornament  or  help  in  practice,  as  the 
orator  hath  of  knowledge  of  affections  for  moving, 
or  as  military  science  may  have  use  of  geometry 
for  fortifications ;  but  I  mean  it  directly  of  that 
use  by  way  of  supply  of  light  and  information, 
which  the  particulars  and  instances  of  one  science 
do  yield  and  present  for  the  framing  or  correcting 
of  the  axioms  of  another  science  in  their  very 
truth  and  notion.  And  therefore  that  example  of 
oculist  and  title  lawyers  doth  come  nearer  my 
conceit  than  the  other  two ;  for  sciences  distin 
guished  have  a  dependence  upon  universal  know 
ledge  to  be  augmented  and  rectified  by  the  supe 
rior  light  thereof;  as  well  as  the  parts  and  mem 
bers  of  a  science  have  upon  the  maxims  of  the 
same  science,  and  the  mutual  light  and  consent 
which  one  part  receiveth  of  another.  And  there 
fore  the  opinion  of  Copernicus  in  astronomy, 
which  astronomy  itself  cannot  correct,  because  it 
is  not  repugnant  to  any  of  the  appearances,  yet 
natural  philosophy  doth  correct.  On  the  other 
side,  if  some  of  the  ancient  philosophers  had  been 
perfect  in  the  observations  of  astronomy,  and  had 
called  them  to  counsel,  when  they  made  their 
principles  and  first  axioms,  they  would  never  have 
divided  their  philosophy,  as  the  cosmographers  do 
their  descriptions  by  globes,  making  one  philo 
sophy  for  heaven,  and  another  for  under  heaven, 
as  in  effect  they  do. 

So  if  the  moral  philosophers,  that  have  spen 
such  an  infinite  quantity  of  debate  touching  good 
and  the  highest  good,  had  cast  their  eye  abroad 
upon  nature,  and  beheld  the  appetite  that  is  in  al 
things  to  receive  and  to  give ;  the  one  motion 


iffecting  preservation,  and  the  other  multiplica- 
ion ;  which  appetites  are  most  evidently  seen  in 
iving  creatures,  in  the  pleasure  of  nourishment 
and  generation;  and  in  man  do  make  the  aptest 
and  most  natural  division  of  all  his  desires,  being 
either  of  sense  of  pleasure,  or  sense  of  power ; 
md  in  the  universal  frame  of  the  world  are  figured, 
,he  one  in  the  beams  of  heaven  which  issue  forth, 
md  the  other  in  the  lap  of  the  earth  which  takes 
n :  and  again,  if  they  had  observed  the  motion  of 
;ongruity,  or  situation  of  the  parts  in  respect  of 
,he  whole,  evident  in  so  many  particulars :  and 
astly,  if  they  had  considered  the  motion,  familiar 
n  attraction  of  things,  to  approach  to  that  which 
s  higher  in  the  same  kind :  when  by  these  obser 
vations,  so  easy  and  concurring  in  natural  philo 
sophy,  they  should  have  found  out  this  quaternion 
of  good,  in  enjoying  or  fruition,  effecting  or  opera 
tion,  consenting  or  proportion,  and  approach  or 
assumption;  they  would  have  saved  and  abridged 
much  of  their  long  and  wandering  discourses  of 
)leasure,  virtue,  duty,  and  religion.     So  likewise 
in  this  same  logic  and  rhetoric,  or  acts  of  argu 
ment  and  grace  of  speech,  if  the  great  masters  of 
them  would    but   have   gone  a  form  lower,  and 
ooked  but  into  the  observations  of  grammar  con 
cerning  the  kinds  of  words,  their  derivations,  de 
flexions,  and  syntax,  specially  enriching  the  same, 
with  the  helps  of  several  languages,  with  their 
differing  properties  of  words,  phrases,  and  tropes; 
they  might  have  found  out  more  and  better  foot 
steps  of  common  reason,  help  of  disputation,  and 
advantages   of  cavillation,  than   many  of  these 
which  they  have  propounded.     So  again,  a  man 
should  be  thought  to  dally,  if  he  did  note  how  the 
figures  of  rhetoric  and  music  are  many  of  them 
the  same.     The   repetitions  and   traductions   in 
speech,  and  the  reports  and  hauntings  of  sounds 
in  music,  are  the  very  same  things.     Plutarch 
hath  almost  made  a  book  of  the  Lacedemonian 
kind  of  jesting,  which  joined  every  pleasure  with 
distaste.     "Sir,"  said  a  man  of  art  to  Philip  king 
of  Macedon,  when  he  controlled  him  in  his  faculty, 
"God  forbid  your  fortune  should  be  such  as  to 
know  these  things  better  than  I."     In  taxing  his 
ignorance  in  his  art,  he  represented  to  him  the 
perpetual  greatness  of  his  fortune,  leaving  him  no 
vacant  time  for  so  mean  a  skill.     Now  in  music 
it  is  one  of  the  ordinariest  flowers  to  fall  from  a 
discord,  or  hard  tune,  upon  a  sweet  accord.     The 
figure  that  Cicero  and  the  rest  commend,  as  one 
of  the  best  points  of  elegancy,  which  is  the  fine 
checking  of  expectation,  is  no  less  well  known  to 
the  musicians,  when  they  have  a  special  grace  in 
flying  the  close  or  cadence.     And  these  arc  no 
allusions  but  direct  communities,  the  same  de 
lights  of  the  mind  being  to  be  found  not  only  in 
music,  rhetoric,  but  in  moral  philosophy,  policy, 
and  other  knowledges,  and    that  obscure  in  the 
one,  which  is  more  apparent  in  the  other;  yea, 
and  that  discovered  in  the  one,  which  is  not  found 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


87 


at  all  in  the  other;  and  so  one  science  greatly 
aiding  to  the  invention  and  augmentation  of  an 
other.  And  therefore,  without  this  intercourse, 
the  axioms  of  sciences  will  fall  out  to  be  neither 
full  nor  true ;  but  will  be  such  opinions,  as  Aris 
totle  in  some  places  doth  wisely  censure,  when 
he  saith,  "  These  are  the  opinions  of  persons  that 
have  respect  but  to  a  few  things."  So  then  we 
see,  that  this  note  leadeth  us  to  an  administration 
of  knowledge  in  some  such  order  and  policy,  as 
the  King  of  Spain,  in  regard  of  his  great  domi 
nions,  useth  in  state  :  who,  though  he  hath  parti 
cular  councils  for  several  countries  and  affairs, 
yet  had  one  council  of  state,  or  last  resort,  that 
receiveth  the  advertisements  and  certificates  from 
all  the  rest.  Hitherto  of  the  diversion,  succession. 
and  conference  of  wits. 

That  the  end  and  scope  of  knowledge  hath  been 
generally  mistaken,  and  that  men  were  never  well 
advised  what  it  was  they  sought. 

Being  the  IXth  chapter,  immediately  preceding 
the  Inventory,  and  inducing  the  same. 

IT  appeareth  then  how  rarely  the  wits  and  la 
bours  of  men  have  been  converted  to  the  severe 
and  original  inquisition  of  knowledge ;  and  in 
those  who  have  pretended,  what  hurt  hath  been 
done  by  the  affectation  of  professors,  and  the 
distraction  of  such  as  wrere  no  professors  ;  and 
how  there  was  never  in  effect  any  conjunction  or 
combination  of  wits  in  the  first  and  inducin 
search,  but  that  every  man  wrought  apart,  and 
would  either  have  his  own  way,  or  else  would  go 
no  further  than  his  guide,  having  in  the  one  case 
the  honour  of  a  first,  and  in  the  other  the  ease  of 
a  second;  and  lastly,  how  in  the  descent  and 
continuance  of  wits  and  labours,  the  succession 
hath  been  in  the  most  popular  and  weak  opinions, 
like  unto  the  weakest  natures,  which  many  times 
have  most  children ;  and  in  them  also  the  condi 
tion  of  succession  hath  been  rather  to  defend  and 
to  adorn,  than  to  add ;  and  if  to  add,  yet  that  ad 
dition  to  be  rather  a  refining  of  a  part,  than  an 
increase  of  the  whole.  But  the  impediments  of 
time  and  accidents,  though  they  have  wrought  a 
general  indisposition,  yet  are  they  not  so  peremp 
tory  and  binding,  as  the  internal  impediments  and 
clouds  in  the  mind  and  spirit  of  man,  whereof  it 
now  followeth  to  speak. 

The  Scripture,  speaking  of  the  worst  sort  of 
error,  saith,  «  Errare  fecit  eos  in  invio  et  non  in 
via."  For  a  man  may  wander  in  the  way,  by 
rounding  up  and  down ;  but  if  men  have  failed 
in  their  very  direction  and  address,  that  error  will 
never  by  good  fortune  correct  itself.  Now  it 
hath  fared  with  men  in  their  contemplations,  as 
Seneca  saith  it  fareth  with  them  in  their  actions, 
"  De  partibus  vitce  quisque  deliberat,  de  summa 
nemo."  A  course  very  ordinary  with  men  who 
receive  for  the  most  part  their  final  ends  from  the 


nclination  of  their  nature,  or  from  common  ex 
ample  and  opinion,  never  questioning  or  examin 
ing  them,  nor  reducing  them  to  any  clear  certainty  ; 
and  use  only  to  call  themselves  to  account  and 
deliberation  touching  the  means  and  second  ends, 
and  thereby  set  themselves  in  the  right  way  to 
the  wrong  place.  So  likewise  upon  the  natural 
curiosity  and  desire  to  know,  they  have  put  them 
selves  in  way  without  foresight  or  consideration 
of  their  journey's  end. 

For  I  find  that  even  those  that  have  sought 
knowledge  for  itself,  and  not  for  benefit,  or  osten 
tation,  or  any  practicable  enablement  in  the  course 
of  their  life,  have  nevertheless  propounded  to 
themselves  a  wrong  mark,  namely,  satisfaction, 
which  men  call  truth,  and  not  operation.  For  as 
in  the  courts  and  services  of  princes  and  states, 
it  is  a  much  easier  matter  to  give  satisfaction  than 
to  do  the  business ;  so  in  the  inquiring  of  causes 
and  reasons  it  is  much  easier  to  find  out  such 
causes  as  will  satisfy  the  mind  of  man  and  quiet  ob 
jections,  than  such  causes  as  will  direct  him  and 
give  him  light  to  new  experiences  and  inventions. 
And  this  did  Celsusnote  wisely  and  truly,  how  that 
the  causes  which  are  in  use,  and  whereof  the  know 
ledges  now  received  do  consist,  were  in  time  mi 
nors  and  subsequents  to  the  knowledge  of  the  par 
ticulars,  out  of  which  they  were  induced  and  col 
lected;  and  that  it  was  not  the  light  of  those  causes 
which  discovered  particulars,  but  only  the  par 
ticulars  being  first  found,  men  did  fall  on  glossing 
and  discoursing  of  the  causes ;  which  is  the  rea 
son,  why  the  learning  that  now  is  hath  the  curse 
of  barrenness,  and  is  courtesan-like,  for  pleasure 
and  not  fDr  fruit.  Nay,  to  compare  it  rightly,  the 
strange  fiction  of  the  poets  of  the  transformation 
of  Scylla,  seemeth  to  be  a  lively  emblem  of  this 
philosophy  and  knowledge  :  a  fair  woman  up 
ward  in  the  parts  of  show,  but  when  you  come  to 
the  parts  of  use  and  generation,  barking  monsters  : 
for  no  better  are  the  endless  distorted  questions, 
which  ever  have  been,  and  of  necessity  must  be, 
the  end  and  womb  of  such  knowledge 

But  yet  nevertheless,  here  I  may  be  mistaken, 
by  reason  of  some  which  have  much  in  their  pen 
I  the  referring  sciences  to  action  and  the  use  of 
man,  which  mean  quite  another  matter  than  I  do. 
i  For  they  mean  a  contriving  of  directions,  and 
precepts  for  readiness  of  practice,  which  I  discom 
mend  not,  so  it  be  not  occasion  that  some  quantity 
of  the  science  be  lost;  for  else  it  will  be  such  a 
piece  of  husbandry,  as  to  put  away  a  manor  lying 
somewhat  scattered,  to  buy  in  a  close  that  lieth 
handsomely  about  a  dwelling.  But  my  inten 
tion  contrariwise  is  to  increase  and  multiply  the 
revenues  and  possessions  of  man,  and  not  to  trim 
up  only,  or  order  with  conveniency  the  grounds 
whereof  he  is  already  stated.  Wherefore  the 
better  to  make  myself  understood,  that  I  mean 
nothing  less  than  words,  and  directly  to  demon- 
i  strate  the  point  which  we  arc  now  upon,  that  is, 


88 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


what  is  the  true  end,  scope,  or  office  of  knowledge, 
which  I  have  set  down  to  consist  not  in  any 
plausible,  delectable,  reverend,  or  admired  dis 
course,  or  any  satisfactory  arguments,  but  in 
effecting  and  working,  and  in  discovery  of  par 
ticulars  not  revealed  before,  for  the  better  en 
dowment  and  help  of  man's  life  ;  I  have  thought 
good  to  make,  as  it  were,  a  kalendar  or  inventory 
of  the  wealth,  furniture,  or  means  of  man,  accord 
ing  to  his  present  estate,  as  far  as  it  is  known ; 
which  I  do  not  to  show  any  universality  of  sense 
or  knowledge,  and  much  less  to  make  a  satire  of 
reprehension  in  respect  of  wants  and  errors,  but 
partly  because  cogitations  new  had  need  of  some 
grossness  and  inculcation  to  make  them  per 
ceived,  and  chiefly  to  the  end,  that  for  the  time 
to  come,  upon  the  account  and  state  now  made 
and  cast  up,  it  may  appear  what  increase  this 
new  manner  of  use  and  administration  of  the 
stock,  if  it  be  once  planted,  shall  bring  with  it 
hereafter ;  and  for  the  time  present,  in  case  I 
should  be  prevented  by  death  to  propound  and 
reveal  this  new  light  as  I  purpose,  yet  I  may  at 
the  least  give  some  awaking  note,  both  of  the 
wants  in  man's  present  condition,  and  the  nature 
of  the  supplies  to  be  wished ;  though  for  mine 
own  part  neither  do  I  much  build  upon  my  pre 
sent  anticipations,  neither  do  I  think  ourselves 
yet  learned  or  wise  enough  to  wish  reasonably  : 
for  as  it  asks  some  knowledge  to  demand  a  ques 
tion  not  impertinent ;  so  it  asketh  some  sense  to 
make  a  wish  riot  absurd. 

The  Inventory,  or  an  enumeration  and  view  of  in 
ventions  already  discovered  in  use,  together  with 
a  note  of  the  wants,  and  the  nature  of  the  supplies 

Being  the  Xth  chapter;  and  this  a  small  frag 
ment  thereof,  being  the  preface  to  the  In 
ventory. 

THE  plainest  method,  and  most  directly  pertl 
nent  to  this  intention,  will  be  to  make  distributior 
of  sciences,  arts,  inventions,  works,  and  thei; 
portions,  according  to  the  use  and  tribute  whicl 
they  yield  and  render  to  the  conditions  of  man's 
life,  and  under  those  several  uses,  being  as  seve 
ral  offices  of  provisions,  to  charge  and  tax  wha 
may  be  reasonably  exacted  or  demanded,  no 
guiding  ourselves  neither  by  the  poverty  of  expe 
riences  and  probations,  nor  according  to  the  vanitj 
of  credulous  imaginations;  and  then  upon  those 
charges  and  taxations  to  distinguish  and  present 
as  it  were,  in  several  columns,  what  is  extant  an( 
already  found,  and  what  is  defective  and  furthe 
to  be  provided.  Of  which  provisions,  because  ii 
many  of  them,  after  the  manner  of  slothful  an 
faulty  officers  and  accomptants,  it  will  be  returned 
by  way  of  excuse,  that  no  such  are  to  be  had,  i 
will  be  fit  to  give  some  light  of  the  nature  of  th 
supplies,  whereby  it  will  evidently  appear,  tha 
they  are  to  be  compassed  and  procured.  And  ye 


evertheless  on  the  other  side  again,  it  will  be  as 
t  to  check  and  control  the  vain  and  void  assigna- 
ions,  and  gifts,  wherehy  certain  ignorant,  extra- 
agant,  and  abusing  wits  have  pretended  to  indue 
tie  state  of  man  with  wonders,  differing  as  much 
rom  truth  in  nature,  as  Caesar's  Commentaries 
iffereth  from  the  acts  of  King  Arthur,  or  Huonof 
Sourdeaux  in  story.  For  it  is  true  that  Caesar  did 

greater  things  than  those  idle  wits  had  the  auda- 
ity  to  feign  their  supposed  worthies  to  have  done ; 
ut  he  did  them  not  in  that  monstrous  and  fabulous 

manner. 

The  chapter  immediately  following  the  Inventory. 
Being  the  Xlth  in  order,  a  part  thereof. 

IT  appeareth  then,  what  is  now  in  proposition, 
not  by  general  circumlocution,  but  by  particular 
note,  no  former  philosophy  varied  in  terms  or  me 
thod  ;  no  new  placet  or  speculation  upon  particulars 
already  known  ;  no  referring  to  action  by  any  ma 
nual  of  practice,  but  the  revealing  and  discovering 
of  new  inventions  and  operations.  This  to  be  done 
without  the  errors  and  conjectures  of  art,  or  the 
ength  or  difficulties  of  experience  ;  the  nature  and 
kinds  of  which  inventions  have  been  described  as 
they  could  be  discovered ;  for  your  eye  cannot  pass 
one  kenning  without  further  sailing  :  only  we  have 
stood  upon  the  best  advantages  of  the  notions  re 
ceived,  as  upon  amount,  to  show  the  knowledges 
adjacent  and  confining.  If  therefore  the  true  end 
of  knowledge  not  propounded,  hath  bred  large 
error,  the  best  and  perfectest  condition  of  the  same 
end,  not  perceived,  will  cause  some  declination. 
For  when  the  butt  is  set  up,  men  need  not  rove,  but 
except  the  white  be  placed,  men  cannot  level.  This 
perfection  we  mean,  not  in  the  worth  of  the  effects, 
but  in  the  nature  of  the  direction ;  for  our  purpose 
is  not  to  stir  up  men's  hopes,  but  to  guide  their 
travels.  The  fulness  of  direction  to  work,  and  pro 
duce  any  effect,  consisteth  in  two  conditions,  cer 
tainty  and  liberty.  Certainty  is,  when  the  direction 
is  not  only  true  for  the  most  part,  but  infallible. 
Liberty  is,  when  the  direction  is  not  restrained  to 
some  definite  means,  but  comprehendeth  all  the 
means  and  ways  possible:  for  the  poet  saithwell, 
"  Sapientibus  undique  latae  sunt  vise ;"  and  where 
there  is  the  greatest  plurality  of  change,  there  is  the 
greatest  singularity  of  choice.  Besides,  as  a  con 
jectural  direction  maketh  a  casual  effect,  so  a  parti 
cular  and  restrained  direction  is  no  less  casual  than 
uncertain.  For  those  particular  means  whereunto 
it  is  tied  may  be  out  of  your  power,  or  may  be  ac 
companied  with  an  overvalue  of  prejudice;  and  so 
if  for  want  of  certainty  in  direction  you  are  frus 
trated  in  success,  for  want  of  variety  in  direction 
you  are  stopped  in  the  attempt.  If  therefore  your 
direction  be  certain,  it  must  refer  you,  and  point, 
you  to  somewhat,  which,  if  it  be  present,  the  effect 
you  seek  will  of  necessity  follow,  else  may  you 
perform  and  not  obtain.  If  it  be  free,  then  must 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


89 


it  refer  you  to  somewhat,  which,  if  it  be  absent, 
the  effect  you  seek  will  of  necessity  withdraw, 
else  may  you  have  power  and  not  attempt.  This 
notion  Aristotle  had  in  light,  though  not  in  use. 
For  the  two  commended  rules  by  him  set  down, 
whereby  the  axioms  of  sciences  are  precepted  to 
be  made  convertible,  and  which  the  latter  men 
have  not  without  elegancy  surnamed,  the  one  the 
rule  of  truth,  because  it  preventeth  deceit,  the  other 
the  rule  of  prudence,  because  it  freeth  election, 
are  the  same  thing  in  speculation  and  affirmation, 
which  we  now  observe.  An  example  will  make 
my  meaning  attained,  and  yet  percase  make  it 
thought  that  they  attained  it  not. 

Let  the  effect  to  be  produced  be  whiteness ;  let 
the  first  direction  be,  that  if  air  and  water  be  inter 
mingled,  or  broken  in  small  portions  together, 
whiteness  will  ensue,  as  in  snow,  in  the  breaking 
of  the  ways  of  the  sea  and  rivers,  and  the  like. 
This  direction  is  certain,  but  very  particular,  and 
restrained,  being  tied  but  to  air  and  water.  Let 
the  second  direction  be,  that  if  air  be  mingled  as 
before  with  any  transparent  body,  such  neverthe 
less  as  is  uncoloured  and  more  grossly  transparent 
than  air  itself,  that  then,  &c.  as  glass  or  crystal, 
being  beaten  to  fine  powder,  by  the  interposition 
of  the  air  becometh  white ;  the  white  of  an  egg, 
being  clear  of  itself,  receiving  air  by  agitation, 
becometh  white,  receiving  air  by  concoction  be 
cometh  white ;  here  you  are  freed  from  water,  and 
advanced  to  a  clear  body,  and  still  tied  to  air. 
Let  the  third  direction  exclude  or  remove  the  re 
straint  of  an  uncoloured  body,  as  in  amber,  sap 
phires,  &c.  which  beaten  to  fine  powder,  become 
white  in  wine  and  beer;  which  brought  to  froth, 
become  white.  Let  the  fourth  direction  exclude 
the  restraint  of  a  body  more  grossly  transparent 
than  air,  as  in  flame,  being  a  body  compounded 
between  air  and  a  finer  substance  than  air;  which 
flame  if  it  were  not  for  the  smoke,  which  is  the 
third  substance  that  incorporateth  itself  and  dieth, 
the  flame  would  be  more  perfect  white.  In  all 
these  four  directions  air  still  beareth  a  part.  Let 
the  fifth  direction  then  be,  that  if  any  bodies,  both 
transparent,  but  in  an  unequal  degree,  be  mingled 
as  before,  whiteness  will  follow  ;  as  oil  and  water 
beaten  to  an  ointment,  though  by  settling,  the  air 
which  gathereth  in  the  agitation  be  evaporate,  yet 
-emaineth  white;  and  the  powder  of  glass,  or 
crystal,  put  into  water,  whereby  the  air  giveth 
place,  yet  remaineth  white,  though  not  so  perfect. 
Now  are  you  freed  from  air,  but  still  you  are  tied 
to  transparent  bodies.  To  ascend  further  by  scale 
I  do  forbear,  partly  because  it  would  draw  on  the 
example  to  an  over-great  length,  but  chiefly  be 
cause  it  would  open  that  which  in  this  work  1 
determine  to  reserve;  for  to  pass  through  the 
whole  history  and  observation  of  colours  and  ob 
jects  visible,  were  too  long  a  digression  ;  and  our 
purpose  is  now  to  give  an  example  of  a  free  direc 
tion,  thereby  to  distinguish  and  describe  it;  and 

VOL.  I — 12 


not  to  set  down  a  form  of  interpretation  how  to  re- 
over  and  attain  it.  But  as  we  intend  not  now  to 
reveal,  so  we  are  circumspect  not  to  mislead ;  and 
therefore,  this  warning  being  given,  returning  to 
our  purpose  in  hand,  we  admit  the  sixth  direction 
to  be,  that  all  bodies,  or  parts  of  bodies,  which 
are  unequal  equally,  that  is,  in  a  simple  propor 
tion,  do  represent  whiteness ;  we  will  explain 
this,  though  we  induce  it  not.  It  is  then  to  be 
understood,  that  absolute  equality  produceth  trans 
parence,  inequality  in  simple  order  or  proportion 
produceth  whiteness,  inequality  in  compound  or 
respective  order  or  proportion  produceth  other 
colours,  and  absolute  or  orderless  inequality  pro 
duceth  blackness ;  which  diversity  if  so  gross  a 
demonstration  be  needful,  may  be  signified  by  four 
tables  ;  a  blank,  a  chequer,  a  fret,  and  a  medley ; 
whereof  the  fret  is  evident  to  admit  great  variety. 
Out  of  this  assertion  are  satisfied  a  multitude  of 
effects  and  observations,  as  that  whiteness  and 
blackness  are  most  incompatible  with  transpa 
rence  ;  that  whiteness  keepeth  light,  and  black 
ness  stoppeth  light,  but  neither  passeth  it; 
that  whiteness  or  blackness  are  never  produced 
in  rainbows,  diamonds,  crystals,  and  the  like; 
that  white  giveth  no  dye,  and  black  hardly 
taketh  dye ;  that  whiteness  seemeth  to  have  an 
affinity  with  dryness,  and  blackness  with  moist 
ure  ;  that  adustion  causeth  blackness,  and  calci 
nation  whiteness  ;  that  flowers  are  generally  of 
fresh  colours,  and  rarely  black,  &c.,  all  which  I 
do  now  mention  confusedly  by  way  of  derivation, 
and  not  by  way  of  induction.  This  sixth  direc 
tion,  which  I  have  thus  explained,  is  of  good  and 
competent  liberty,  for  whiteness  fixed  and  inhe 
rent  ;  but  not  for  whiteness  fantastical,  or  appear 
ing,  as  shall  be  afterwards  touched.  But  first  do 
you  need  a  reduction  back  to  certainty  or  verity; 
for  it  is  not  all  position  or  contexture  of  unequal 
bodies  that  will  produce  colours;  for  aquafortis, 
oil  of  vitriol,  &c.  more  manifestly,  and  many 
other  substances  more  obscurely,  do  consist  of 
very  unequal  parts,  which  yet  are  transparent  and 
clear.  Therefore  the  reduction  must  be,  that  the 
bodies  or  parts  of  bodies  so  intermingled  as  before, 
be  of  a  certain  grossness  or  magnitude;  for  the 
unequalities  which  move  the  sight  must  have  a 
further  dimension  and  quantity  than  those  which 
operate  many  other  effects.  Some  few  grains  of 
saffron  will  give  a  tincture  to  a  tun  of  water,  but 
so  many  grains  of  civet  will  give  a  perfume  to  a 
whole  chamber  of  air.  And  therefore  when  De- 
mocritus,  from  whom  Epicurus  did  borrow  it, 
held  that  the  position  of  the  solid  portions  was 
the  cause  of  colours ;  yet  in  the  very  truth  of  this 
assertion  he  should  have  added,  that  the  portions 
are  required  to  be  of  some  magnitude.  And  this 
is  one  cause  why  colours  have  little  inwardness 
and  necessitude  with  the  nature  and  proprieties  of 
things,  those  things  resembling  in  colour,  which 
otherwise  differ  most,  as  salt  and  sugar ;  and  con- 

H2 


90 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


trariwise  differing  in  colour,  which  otherwise  re 
semble  most,  as  the  white  and  blue  violets,  and 
the  several  veins  of  one  agate  or  marble,  by  rea 
son  that  other  virtues  consist  in  more  subtile 
proportions  than  colours  do;  and  yet  are  there 
virtues  and  natures  which  require  a  grosser  mag 
nitude  than  colours,  as  well  as  scents  and  divers 
other  require  a  more  subtile ;  for  as  the  portion 
of  a  body  will  give  forth  scent,  which  is  too 
small  to  be  seen  ;  so  the  portion  of  a  body  will 
show  colours,  which  is  too  small  to  be  en 
dued  with  weight:  and  therefore  one  of  the 
prophets  with  great  elegancy  describing  how  all 
creatures  carry  no  proportion  towards  God  the 
creator,  saith,  "That  all  the  nations  in  respect  of 
him  are  like  the  dust  upon  the  balance;"  which 
is  a  thing  appeareth,  but  weigheth  not.  But  to 
return,  there  resteth  a  further  freeing  of  this  sixth 
direction :  for  the  clearness  of  a  river  or  stream 
showeth  white  at  a  distance,  and  crystalline 
glasses  deliver  the  face  or  any  other  object  falsified 
in  whiteness,  and  long  beholding  the  snow  to  a 
weak  eye  giveth  an  impression  of  azure,  rather 
than  of  whiteness.  So  as  for  whiteness  in  appa 
rition  only,  and  representation,  by  the  qualifying 
of  the  light,  altering  the  intermedium,  or  aiTecting 
the  eye  itself,  it  reacheth  not.  But  you  must 
free  your  direction  to  the  producing  of  such  an 
incidence,  impression,  or  operation,  as  may  cause 
a  precise  and  determinate  passion  of  the  eye,  a 
matter  which  is  much  more  easy  to  induce  than 
that  which  we  have  passed  through ;  but  yet  be 
cause  it  hath  a  full  coherence  both  wilh  that  act 
of  radiation,  which  hath  hitherto  been  conceived 
and  termed  so  improperly  and  untruly,  by  some, 
an  eflluxion  of  spiritual  species,  and  by  others,  an 
investing  of  the  intermedium,  with  a  motion 
which  successively  is  conveyed  to  the  eye,  and 
with  the  act  of  sense,  wherein  I  should  like 
wise  open  that  which  I  think  good  to  withdraw, 
I  will  omit. 

Neither  do  I  contend,  but  that  this  notion, 
which  I  call  the  freeing  of  a  direction  in  the  re 
ceived  philosophies,  as  far  as  a  swimming  antici 
pation  could  take  hold,  might  be  perceived  and 
discerned  ;  being  not  much  other  matter  than  that 
which  they  did  not  only  aim  at  in  the  two  rules 
of  axioms  before  remembered,  but  more  nearly 
also  than  that  which  they  term  the  form  or  formal 
cause,  or  that  which  they  call  the  true  difference ; 
both  which,  nevertheless,  it  seemeth  they  pro 
pound  rather  as  impossibilities  and  wishes,  than 
as  things  within  the  compass  of  human  compre 
hension  :  for  Plato  casteth  his  burden,  and  saith, 
"  that  he  will  revere  him  as  a  God,  that  can  truly 
divide  and  define:"  which  cannot  be  but  by  true 
forms  and  differences,  wherein  I  join  hands  with 
him,  confessing  as  much,  as  yet  assuming  to  my 
self  little  ;  for  if  any  man  can,  by  the  strength  of 
his  anticipations,  find  out  forms,  I  will  magnify 
iiim  with  the  foremost.  But  as  any  of  them 


would  say,  that  if  divers  things,  which  many 
men  know  by  instruction  and  observation,  another 
knew  by  revelation,  and  without  those  means, 
they  would  take  him  for  somewhat  supernatural 
and  divine;  so  I  do  acknowledge  that  if  any  man 
can  by  anticipations  reach  to  that  which  a  weak 
and  inferior  wit  may  attain  to  by  interpretation, 
he  cannot  receive  too  high  a  title.  Nay,  I  for 
my  part  do  indeed  admire  to  see  how  far  some  of 
them  have  proceeded  by  their  anticipations  ;  but 
how  1  it  is  as  I  wonder  at  some  blind  men,  to  see 
what  shift  they  make  without  their  eye-sight ; 
thinking  with  myself  that  if  I  were  blind,  I  could 
hardly  do  it.  Again,  Aristotle's  school  confes- 
seth,  that  there  is  no  true  knowledge  but  by 
causes,  no  true  cause  but  the  form,  no  true  form 
known  except  one,  which  they  are  pleased  to 
allow ;  and  therefore  thus  far  their  evidence 
standeth  with  us,  that  both  hitherto  there  hath 
been  nothing  but  a  shadow  of  knowledge,  and 
that  we  propound  now  that  which  is  agreed  to  be 
worthiest  to  be  sought,  and  hardest  to  be  found. 
There  wanteth  now  a  part  very  necessary,  not  by 
way  of  supply,  but  by  way  of  caution :  for  as  it 
is  seen  for  the  most  part,  that  the  outward  tokens 
and  badge  of  excellency  and  perfection  are  more- 
incident  to  things  merely  counterfeit,  than  to  that 
which  is  true,  but  for  a  meaner  and  baser  sort:  as 
a  dubline  is  more  like  a  perfectruby  than  a  spinel, 
and  a  counterfeit  angel  is  made  more  like  a  true 
angel,  than  if  it  were  an  angel  coined  of  China 
gold ;  in  like  manner,  the  direction  carricth  a  re 
semblance  of  a  true  direction  in  verity  and  liberty, 
which  indeed  is  no  direction  at  all.  For  though 
your  direction  seem  to  be  certain  and  free,  by 
pointing  you  to  nature  that  is  unseparable  from 
the  nature  you  inquire  upon  ;  yet  if  it  do  not  carry 
you  on  a  degree  or  remove  nearer  to  action,  opera 
tion,  or  light,  to  make  or  produce,  it  is  but  super 
ficial  and  counterfeit.  Wherefore  to  secure  and 
warrant  what  is  a  true  direction,  though  that 
general  note  I  have  given  be  perspicuous  in 
itself,  for  a  man  shall  soon  cast  with  himself, 
whether  he  be  ever  the  near  to  effect  and  operate 
or  no,  or  whether  he  have  Avon  but  an  abstract  or 
varied  notion,  yet  for  better  instruction  I  will  de 
liver  three  particular  notes  of  caution.  The  first 
is,  that  the  nature  discovered  be  more  original 
than  the  nature  supposed,  and  not  more  secondary 
or  of  the  like  degree;  as  to  make  a  stone  bright, 
or  to  make  it  smooth,  it  is  a  good  direction  to  say 
make  it  even ;  but  to  make  a  stone  even,  it  is  no 
good  direction  to  say,  make  it  bright,  or  make  it 
smooth;  for  the  rule  is,  that  the  disposition  of 
any  thing  referring  to  the  state  of  it  in  itself,  01 
the  parts,  is  more  original  than  that  which  is  rela 
tive  or  transitive  towards  another  thing.  So 
evenness  is  the  disposition  of  the  stone  in  itself, 
but.  smooth  is  to  the  hand,  and  bright  to  the  eye, 
and  yet  nevertheless  they  all  cluster  and  concur ; 
and  yet  the  direction  is  more  unperfect,  if  it  do 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


91 


appoint  you  to  such  a  relative,  as  is  in  the  same 
kind,  and  not  in  a  diverse.  For  in  the  direction, 
to  produce  brightness  by  smoothness,  although 
properly  it  win  no  degree,  and  will  never  teach 
you  any  new  particulars  before  unknown,  yet 
by  way  of  suggestion,  or  bringing  to  mind,  it  may 
draw  your  consideration  to  some  particulars  known 
but  not  remembered ;  as  you  shall  sooner  remem 
ber  some  practical  means  of  making  smoothness, 
than  if  you  had  fixed  your  consideration  only 
upon  brightness;  but  if  the  direction  had  been  to 
make  brightness,  by  making  reflection,  as  thus, 
make  it  such  as  you  may  see  your  face  in  it ;  this 
is  merely  secondary,  and  helpeth  neither  by  way 
of  informing,  nor  by  way  of  suggesting.  So  if 
in  the  inquiry  of  whiteness  you  were  directed  to 
make  such  a  colour  as  should  be  seen  furthest  in 
a  dark  light ;  here  you  are  advanced  nothing  at 
all.  For  these  kinds  of  natures  are  but  proprieties, 
elfects,  circumstances,  concurrences,  or  what  else 
you  shall  like  to  call  them,  and  not  radical  and 
formative  natures  towards  the  nature  supposed. 
The  second  caution  is,  that  the  nature  inquired  be 
collected  by  division  before  composition,  or  to 
speak  more  properly,  by  composition  subaltern, 
before  you  ascend  to  composition  absolute,  &c. 

Of  the  internal  and  prof ound  errors  and  superstitions 
in  the  nature  of  the  mind,  and  of  the  four  sorts  of 
•idols  or  fictions  which  offer  themselves  to  the,  un 
derstanding  in  the  inquisition  of  knowledge. 

Being  the  XVIth  chapter,  and  this  a  small  frag 
ment  thereof,  being  a  preface  to  the  inward 
clenches  of  the  mind. 

THE  opinion  of  Epicurus,  that  the  gods  were 
of  human  shape,  was  rather  justly  derided  than 
seriously  confuted  by  the  other  sects,  demanding 
whether  every  kind  of  sensible  creature  did  not 
think  their  own  figure  fairest,  as  the  horse,  the 
bull,  and  the  like,  which  found  no  beauty  but  in 
their  own  forms,  as  in  appetite  of  lust  appeared. 
And  the  heresy  of  the  Anthropomorphites  was 
ever  censured  for  a  gross  conceit,  bred  in  the  ob 
scure  cells  of  solitary  monks  that  never  looked 
abroad.  Again,  the  fable  so  well  known  of  "  Quis 
pinxit  leonem,"  doth  set  forth  well,  that  there  is 
an  error  of  pride  and  partiality,  as  well  as  of 
-custom  and  familiarity.  The  reflection  also  from 
glasses  so  usually  resembled  to  the  imagery  of 
the  mind,  every  man  knoweth  to  receive  error  and 
variety  both  in  colour,  magnitude,  and  shape, 
according  to  the  quality  of  the  glass.  But  yet  no 
use  hath  been  made  of  these  and  many  the  like 
observations  to  move  men  to  search  out,  and  upon 
search  to  give  true  cautions  of  the  native  and  inhe 
rent  errors  in  the  mind  of  man,  which  have  colour 
ed  and  corrupted  all  his  notions  and  impressions. 
I  do  find  therefore  in  this  enchanted  glass  four 
idols,  or  false  appearances  of  several  and  distinct 
sorts,  every  sort  comprehending  many  subdivi 


sions  :  the  first  sort,  I  call  idols  of  the  nation  or 
tribe;  the  second,  idols  of  the  palace  ;  the  third, 
idols  of  the  cave;  and  the  fourth,  idols  of  the 
theatre,  &c. 

Herefolloweth  an  abridgement   of  divers  chapters  of 
the  first  book  of  the  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 

CHAPTER    XII. 

THAT  in  deciding  and  determining  of  the  truth 
of  knowledge,  men  have  put  themselves  upon 
trials  not  competent.  That  antiquity  and  author 
ity,  common  and  confessed  notions,  the  natural 
and  yielding  consent  of  the  mind,  the  harmony  and 
coherence  of  a  knowledge  in  itself,  the  establish 
ing  of  principles  with  the  touch  and  reduction  of 
other  propositions  unto  them,  inductions  without 
instances  contradictory  and  the  report  of  the 
senses,  are  none  of  them  absolute  and  infallible 
evidence  of  truth  ;  and  bring  no  security  sufficient 
for  effects  and  operations.  That  the  discovery  of 
new  works  or  active  directions  not  known  before, 
is  the  only  trial  to  be  accepted  of ;  and  yet  not 
that  neither,  in  case  where  one  particular  giveth 
light  to  another ;  but  where  particulars  induce 
an  axiom  or  observation,  which  axiom  found 
out  discovereth  and  designeth  new  particulars. 
That  the  nature  of  this  trial  is  not  only  upon  the 
point,  whether  the  knowledge  be  profitable  or  no, 
but  even  upon  the  points  whether  the  knowledge 
be  true  or  no.  Not  because  you  may  always  con 
clude,  that  the  axiom  which  discovereth  new  in 
stances  is  true  ;  but  contrariwise  you  may  safely 
conclude,  that  if  it  discover  not  any  new  instance, 
it  is  in  vain  and  untrue.  That  by  new  instances 
are  not  always  to  be  understood  new  recipes,  but 
new  assignations ;  and  of  the  diversity  between 
these  two.  That  the  subtilty  of  words,  argu 
ments,  notions,  yea  of  the  senses  themselves,  is 
but  rude  and  gross  in  comparison  of  the  subtilty 
of  things.  And  of  the  slothful  and  flattering 
opinions  of  those  which  pretend  to  honour  the 
mind  of  man  in  withdrawing  and  abstracting  it 
from  particulars  ;  and  of  the  inducements  and  mo 
tives  whereupon  such  opinions  have  been  con 
ceived  and  received. 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

OF  the  error  in  propounding  chiefly  the  search 
of  causes  and  productions  of  things  concrete,  which 
are  infinite  and  transitory  ;  and  not  of  abstract 
natures,  which  are  few  and  permanent.  That 
these  natures  areas  the  alphabet  or  simple  letters, 
whereof  the  variety  of  things  consisteth ;  or  as 
the  colours  mingled  in  the  painter's  shell,  where 
with  he  is  able  to  make  infinite  variety  of  faces  or 
shapes.  An  enumeration  of  them  according  to 
popular  note.  That,  at  the  first,  one  would  conceive 
that  in  the  schools  by  natural  philosophy  were 
meant  the  knowledge  of  the  efficients  of  things 


92 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


concrete  ;  and  by  metaphysics  the  knowledge  of 
the  forms  of  natures  simple  ;  which  is  a  good  and 
tit  division  of  knowledge  :  but  upon  examination 
there  is  no  such  matter  by  them  intended.  That 
the  little  inquiry  into  the  production  of  simple 
natures,  showeth  well  that  works  were  not  sought ; 
because  by  the  former  knowledge  some  small  and 
superficial  deflexions  from  the  ordinary  genera 
tions  and  productions  may  be  found  out,  but  the 
discovery  of  all  profound  and  radical  alteration 
must  arise  out  of  the  latter  knowledge. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

OF  the  error  in  propounding  the  search  of  the  ma 
terials,  or  dead  beginnings  or  principles  of  things, 
and  not  the  nature  of  motions,  inclinations,  and 
applications.  That  the  whole  scope  of  the  former 
search  is  impertinent  and  vain ;  both  because  there 
are  no  such  beginnings,  and  if  there  were,  they 
could  not  be  known.  That  the  latter  manner  of 
search,  which  is  all,  they  pass  over  compendious 
ly  and  slightly  as  a  bye  matter.  That  the  several 
conceits  in  that  kind  ;  as  that  the  lively  and  moving 
beginnings  of  things  should  be  shift  or  appetite 
of  matter  to  privation;  the  spirit  of  the  world, 
working  in  matter  according  to  platform  ;  the 
proceeding  or  fructifying  of  distinct  kinds  ac 
cording  to  their  proprieties  ;  the  intercourse  of  the 
elements  by  mediation  of  their  common  qualities; 
the  appetite  of  like  portions  to  unite  themselves  ; 
amity  and  discord,  or  sympathy  and  antipathy ; 
motion  to  the  centre,  with  motion  of  stripe  or 
press ;  the  casual  agitation,  aggregation,  and  es 
says  of  the  solid  portions  in  the  void  space ;  mo 
tion  of  shuttings  and  openings;  are  all  mere 
nugations.  And  that  the  calculating  and  ordina 
tion  of  the  true  degrees,  moments,  limits  and  laws 
of  motions  and  alterations,  by  means  whereof  all 
works  and  effects  are  produced,  is  a  matter  of  a 
far  other  nature  than  to  consist  in  such  easy  and 
wild  generalities. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

OF  the  great  error  of  inquiring  knowledge  in  an 
ticipations.  That  I  call  anticipations,  the  voluntary 
collections  that  the  mind  maketh  of  knowledge, 
which  is  every  man's  reason.  That  though  this 
be  a  solemn  thing,  and  serves  the  turn  to  negotiate 
between  man  and  man,  because  of  the  conformity 
and  participation  of  men's  minds  in  the  like  errors, 
yet  towards  inquiry  of  the  truth  of  things  and  works 
it  is  of  no  value.  That  civil  respects  are  a  let  that 
this  pretended  reason  should  not  be  so  contemptibly 
spoken  of  as  were  fit  and  medicinable,  in  regard 
that  hath  been  too  much  exalted  and  glorified,  to  the 
infinite  detriment  of  man's  estate.  Of  the  nature 
of  words,  and  their  facility  and  aptness  to  cover  and 
grace  the  defects  of  anticipations.  That  it  is  no 
marvel  if  these  anticipations  have  brought  forth 


such  diversity  and  repugnance  in  opinions,  theories 
or  philosophies,  as  so  many  fable,  of  several  argu 
ments.  That  had  not  the  nature  of  civil  customs  , 
and  government  been  in  most  times  somewhat 
adverse  to  such  innovations,  though  contemplative, 
there  might  have  been  and  would  have  been  many 
more.  That  the  second  school  of  the  Academics 
and  the  sect  of  Pyrrho,  or  the  considerers,  that  de 
nied  comprehension  as  the  disabling  man's  know 
ledge,  entertained  in  anticipations,  is  well  to  be 
allowed:  but  that  they  ought,  when  they  had 
overthrown  and  purged  the  floor  of  the  ruins,  to 
have  sought  to  build  better  in  place.  And  more 
especially  that  they  did  unjustly  and  prejudicially, 
to  charge  the  deceit  upon  the  report  of  the  senses, 
which  admitteth  very  sparing  remedy ;  being  in 
deed  to  have  been  charged  upon  the  anticipations 
of  the  mind,  which  admitteth  a  perfect  remedy. 
That  the  information  of  the  senses  is  sufficient,  not 
because  they  err  not,  but  because  the  use  of  the 
sense  in  discovering  of  knowledge  is  for  the  most 
part  not  immediate.  So  that  it  is  the  work,  effect, 
or  instance,  that  trieth  the  axiom,  and  the  sense 
doth  but  try  the  work  done  or  not  done,  being  or 
not  being.  That  the  mind  of  man  in  collecting 
knowledge  needeth  great  variety  of  helps,  as  well 
as  the  hand  of  man  in  manual  and  mechanical 
practices  needeth  great  variety  of  instruments. 
And  that  it  were  a  poor  work,  that  if  instruments 
were  removed  men  would  overcome  with  their 
naked  hands.  And  of  the  distinct  points  of  want 
and  insufficiency  in  the  mind  of  man. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

THAT  the  mind  of  a  man,  as  it  is  not  a  vessel  of 
that  content  or  receipt  to  comprehend  knowledge 
without  helps  and  supplies  ;  so  again  it  is  not  sin 
cere,  but  of  an  ill  and  corrupt  tincture.  Of  the 
inherent  and  profound  errors  and  superstitions  in 
the  nature  of  the  mind,  and  of  the  four  sorts  of 
idols  or  false  appearances  that  offer  themselves  to 
the  understanding  in  the  inquisition  of  knowledge  ; 
that  is  to  say,  the  idols  of  the  tribe,  the  idols  of 
the  palace,  the  idols  of  the  cave,  and  the  idols  of 
the  theatre  :  that  these  four,  added  to  the  incapa 
city  of  the  mind,  and  the  vanity  and  malignity  of 
the  affections,  leave  nothing  but  irnpotency  and 
confusion.  A  recital  of  the  particular  kinds  of 
these  four  idols,  with  some  chosen  examples 
of  the  opinions  they  have  begot,  such  of  them  as 
have  supplanted  the  state  of  knowledge  most. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

OF  the  errors  of  such  as  have  descended  and 
applied  themselves  to  experience,  and  attempted 
to  induce  knowledge  upon  particulars.  That  they 
have  not  had  the  resolution  and  strength  of  mind 
to  free  themselves  wholly  from  anticipations,  but 
have  made  a  confusion  and  intermixture  of  antici- 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


93 


pations  and  observations,  and  so  vanished.     That  1  like  Atalanta's  golden  ball  that  hindereth  and  m- 


if  any  have  had  the  strength  of  mind  generally  to 
purge  away  and  discharge  all  anticipations ;  they 
have  not  had  that  greater  and  double  strength  and 
patience  of  mind,  as  well  to  repel  new  anticipa 
tions  after  the  view  and  search  of  particulars,  as 
to  reject  old  which  were  in  their  mind  before ;  but 
have  from  particulars  and  history  flown  up  to 
principles  without  the  mean  degrees,  and  so 
framed  all  the  middle  generalities  or  axioms,  not 
by  way  of  scale  or  ascension  from  particulars,  but 
by  way  of  derivation  from  principles,  whence  hath 
issued  the  infinite  chaos  of  shadows  and  moths, 
wherewith  both  books  and  minds  have  been 
hitherto,  and  may  be  yet  hereafter  much  more 
pestered.  That  in  the  course  of  those  derivations 
to  make  them  yet  the  more  unprofitable,  they  have 
used,  when  any  light  of  new  instance  opposite  to 
any  assertion  appeared,  rather  to  reconcile  the  in 
stance  than  to  amend  the  rule.  That  if  any  have 
had,  or  shall  have  the  power  and  resolution  to 
fortify  and  inclose  his  mind  against  all  anticipa 
tions,  yet  if  he  have  not  been  or  shall  not  be 
cautioned  by  the  full  understanding  of  the  nature 
of  the  mind  and  spirit  of  man,  and  therein  of  the 
states,  pores,  and  passages  both  of  knowledge  and 
error,  he  hath  not  been  nor  shall  not  be  possibly 
able  to  guide  or  keep  on  his  course  aright.  That 
those  that  have  been  conversant  in  experience  and 
observation,  have  used,  when  they  have  intended 
to  discover  the  cause  of  any  effect,  to  fix  their 
consideration  narrowly  and  exactly  upon  that 
effect  itself,  with  all  the  circumstances  thereof, 
and  to  vary  the  trial  thereof  as  many  ways  as  can 
be  devised;  which  course  amounteth  but  to  a 
tedious  curiosity,  and  ever  breaketh  off  in  wonder 
ing  and  not  in  knowing.  And  that  they  have  not 
used  to  enlarge  their  observation  to  match  and 
sort  that  effect  with  instances  of  a  diverse  subject, 
which  must  of  necessity  be  before  any  cause  be 
found  out.  That  they  have  passed  over  the  obser 
vation  of  instances  vulgar  and  ignoble,,  and  stayed 
their  attention  chiefly  upon  instances  of  mark: 
whereas  the  other  sort  are  for  the  most  part  more 
significant,  and  of  better  light  and  information. 
That  every  particular  that  worketh  any  effect,  is 
a  thing  compounded  more  or  less,  of  diverse  single 
natures,  more  manifest  and  more  obscure,  and  that 
it  appeareth  not  to  whether  of  the  natures  the 
effect  is  to  be  ascribed ;  and  yet  notwithstanding 
they  have  taken  a  course  without  breaking  parti 
culars,  and  reducing  them  by  exclusions  and  in 
clusions  to  a  definite  point,  to  conclude  upon  in 
ductions  in  gross;  which  empirical  course  is  no 
less  vain  than  the  scholastical.  That  all  such  as 
have  sought  action  and  work  out  of  their  inquiry, 
have  been  hasty  and  pressing  to  discover  some 
practices  for  present  use,  and  not  to  discover 


terrupteth  the  course ;  and  is  to  be  inhibited  till 
you  have  ascended  to  a  certain  stage  and  degree 
of  generalities ;  which  forbearance  will  be  liberally 
recompensed  in  the  end ;  and  that  chance  disco- 
vereth  new  inventions  by  one  and  one,  but  science 
by  knots  and  clusters.  That  they  have  not  col 
lected  sufficient  quantity  of  particulars,  nor  them 
in  sufficient  certainty  and  subtilty,  nor  of  all  se 
veral  kinds,  nor  with  those  advantages  and  dis 
cretions  in  the  entry  and  sorting  which  are  requi 
site  ;  and  of  the  weak  manner  of  collecting  natural 
history,  which  hath  been  used.  Lastly,  that  they 
had  no  knowledge  of  the  formulary  of  interpreta 
tion,  the  work  whereof  is  to  abridge  experience, 
and  to  make  things  as  certainly  found  out  by 
axiom  in  short  time,  as  by  infinite  experiences  in 
ages. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THAT  the  cautels  and  devices  put  in  practice  in 
the  delivery  of  knowledge  for  the  covering  and 
palliating  of  ignorance,  and  the  gracing  and  over 
valuing  of  that  they  utter,  are  without  number, 
but  none  more  bold  and  more  hurtful  than  two : 
the  one,  that  men  have  used  of  a  few  observations 
upon  any  subject  to  make  a  solemn  and  formal 
art;  by  filling  it  up  with  discourse,  accommo 
dating  it  with  some  circumstances  and  directions 
to  practice,  and  digesting  it  into  method,  whereby 
men  grow  satisfied  and  secure,  as  if  no  more  in 
quiry  were  to  be  made  of  that  matter;  the  other, 
that  men  have  used  to  discharge  ignorance  with 
credit,  in  defining  all  those  effects  which  they 
cannot  attain  unto,  to  be  out  of  the  compass  of 
art  and  human  endeavour.  That  the  very  styles 
and  forms  of  utterance  are  so  many  characters  of 
imposture,  some  choosing  a  style  of  pugnacity 
and  contention,  some  of  satire  and  reprehension, 
some  of  plausible  and  tempting  similitudes  and 
examples,  some  of  great  words  and  high  discourse, 
some  of  short  and  dark  sentences,  some  of  exact 
ness  of  method,  all  of  positive  affirmation;  with 
out  disclosing  the  true  motives  and  proofs  of  their 
opinions,  or  free  confessing  their  ignorance  or 
doubts,  except  it  be  now  and  then  for  a  grace,  and 
in  cunning  to  win  the  more  credit  in  the  rest,  and 
not  in  good  faith.  That  although  men  be  free 
from  these  errors  and  incurnbrances  in  the  will 
and  affection,  yet  it  is  not  a  thing  so  easy  as  is 
conceived  to  convey  the  conceit  of  one  man's 
mind  into  the  mind  of  another,  without  loss  or 
mistaking,  especially  in  notions  new  and  differing 
from  those  that  are  received.  That  never  any 
knowledge  was  delivered  in  the  same  order  it  was 
invented,  no  not  in  the  mathematics,  though  it 
should  seem  otherwise  in  regard  that  the  proposi- 


axioms,  joining  with  them  the  new  assignations  as  tions  placed  last  do  use  the  propositions  or  grants 
their  sureties.  That  the  forerunning  of  the  rnind  I  placed  first  for  their  proof  and  demonstration, 
to  frame  recipes  upon  axioms  at  the  entrance,  is  '  That  there  are  fcrms  and  methods  of  tradition 


94 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


wholly  distinct  and  differing,  according  to  their 
ends  whereto  they  are  directed.  That  there  are 
two  ends  of  tradition  of  knowledge,  the  one  to 
teach  and  instruct  for  use  and  practice,  the  other 
to  impart  or  intimate  for  re-examination  and  pro 
gression.  That  the  former  of  these  ends  requireth 
a  method  not  the  same  whereby  it  was  invented 
and  induced,  but  such  as  is  most  compendious 
and  ready,  whereby  it  may  be  used  and  applied. 
That  the  latter  of  the  ends,  which  is  where  a 
knowledge  is  delivered  to  be  continued  and  spun 
on  by  a  succession  of  labours,  requireth  a  method 
whereby  it  may  be  transposed  to  another  in  the 
same  manner  as  it  was  collected,  to  the  end  it  may 
be  discerned  both  where  the  work  is  weak,  and 
where  it  breaketh  off.  That  this  latter  method  is 
not  only  unfit  for  the  former  end,  but  also  impos 
sible  for  all  knowledge  gathered  and  insinuated 
by  anticipations,  because  the  mind  working  in 
wardly  of  itself,  no  man  can  give  a  just  account 
how  he  came  to  that  knowledge  which  he  hath 
received,  and  that  therefore  this  method  is  peculiar 
for  knowledge  gathered  by  interpretation.  That 
the  discretion  anciently  observed,  though  by  the 
precedent  of  many  vain  persons  and  deceivers 
disgraced,  of  publishing  part  and  reserving  part 
TO  a  private  succession,  and  of  publishing  in  a 
manner  whereby  it  shall  not  be  to  the  capacity 
nor  taste  of  all,  but  shall  as  it  were  single  and 
adopt  his  reader,  is  not  to  be  laid  aside,  both  for 
the  avoiding  of  abuse  in  the  excluded,  and  the 
strengthening  of  affection  in  the  admitted.  That 
there  are  other  virtues  of  tradition,  as  that  there 
be  no  occasion  given  to  error,  and  that  it  carry  a 
vigour  to  root  and  spread  against  the  vanity  of 
wits  and  injuries  of  time;  all  which,  if  they  were 
ever  due  to  any  knowledge  delivered,  or  if  they 
were  never  due  to  any  human  knowledge  hereto 
fore  delivered,  yet  are  now  due  to  the  knowledge 
propounded. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

OF  the  impediments  which  have  been  in  the 
affections,  the  principle  whereof  hath  been  despair 
or  diffidence,  and  the  strong  apprehension  of  the 
difficulty,  obscurity,  and  infiniteness  which  be- 
longeth  to  the  invention  of  knowledge,  and  that 
men  have  not  known  their  own  strength;  and 
that  the  supposed  difficulties  and  vastness  of  the 
work  is  rather  in  show  and  muster,  than  in  state 
or  substance,  where  the  true  way  is  taken.  That 
this  diffidence  hath  moved  and  caused  some  never 
to  enter  into  search,  and  others,  when  they  have 
been  entered,  either  to  give  over,  or  to  seek  a 
more  compendious  course  than  can  stand  with 
the  nature  of  true  search.  That  of  those  that 
have  refused  and  prejudged  inquiry,  the  more 
sober  and  grave  sort  of  wits  have  depended  upon 
authors  and  traditions,  and  the  more  vain  and 
credulous  resorted  to  revelation  and  intelligence 


with  spirits  and  higher  natures.  That  of  those 
that  have  entered  into  search,  some  having  fallen 
upon  some  conceits,  which  they  after  consider  to 
be  the  same  which  they  have  found  in  former 
authors,  have  suddenly  taken  a  persuasion  that  a 
man  shall  but  with  much  labour  incur  and  light 
upon  the  same  inventions  which  he  might  with 
ease  receive  from  others,  and  that  it  is  but  a  vanity 
and  self-pleasing  of  the  wit  to  go  about  again,  as 
one  that  would  rather  have  a  flower  of  his  own 
gathering,  than  much  better  gathered  to  bis  hand. 
That  the  same  humour  of  sloth  and  diffidence 
suggesteth,  that  a  man  shall  but  revive  some  an 
cient  opinion,  which  was  long  ago  propounded, 
examined,  and  rejected.  And  that  it  is  easy  to 
err  in  conceit,  that  a  man's  observation  or  notion 
is  the  same  with  a  former  opinion,  both  because 
new  conceits  must  of  necessity  be  uttered  in  old 
words,  and  because  upon  true  and  erroneous 
grounds  men  may  meet  in  consequence  or  con 
clusion,  as  several  lines  or  circles  that  cut  in  some 
one  point.  That  the  greatest  part  of  those  that 
have  descended  into  search  have  chosen  for  the 
most  artificial  and  compendious  course,  to  induce 
principles  out  of  particulars,  and  to  reduce  all 
other  propositions  unto  principles  :  and  so,  instead 
of  the  nearest  way,  have  been  led  to  no  way  or  a 
mere  labyrinth.  That  the  two  contemplative 
ways  have  some  resemblance  with  the  old  parable 
of  the  two  moral  ways,  the  one  beginning  with 
incertainty  and  difficulty,  and  ending  in  plainness 
and  certainty  ;  and  the  other  beginning  with  show 
of  plainness  and  certainty,  and  ending  in  difficulty 
and  incertainty.  Of  the  great  and  manifest  error 
and  untrue  conceit  or  estimation  of  the  infiniteness 
of  particulars,  whereas  indeed  all  prolixity  is  in 
discourse  and  derivations  ;  and  of  the  infinite  and 
most  laborious  expence  of  wit  that  hath  been  em 
ployed  upon  toys  and  matters  of  no  fruit  or  value. 
That  although  the  period  of  one  age  cannot  ad 
vance  men  to  the  furthest  point  of  interpretation 
of  nature,  except  the  work  should  be  undertaken 
with  greater  helps  than  can  be  expected,  yet  it 
cannot  fail  in  much  less  space  of  time  to  make 
return  of  many  singular  commodities  towards  the 
state  and  occasions  of  man's  life.  That  there  is 
less  reason  of  distrust  in  the  course  of  interpreta 
tion  now  propounded,  than  in  any  knowledge  for 
merly  delivered,  because  this  course  doth  in  sort 
equal  men's  wits,  and  leaveth  no  great  advantage 
or  pre-eminence  to  the  perfect  and  excellent  mo 
tions  of  the  spirit.  That  to  draw  a  straight  line, 
or  to  make  a  circle  perfect  round  by  aim  of  hand 
only,  there  must  be  a  great  difference  between  an 
unsteady  and  unpractised  hand,  and  a  steady  and 
practised ;  but  to  do  it  by  rule  or  compass,  it  \s 
much  alike. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

OF  the  impediments  which  have  been  in  the 
two  extreme  humours  of  admiration  of  antiquity 


OF  THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


95 


and  love  of  novelty ;  and  again,  of  over-servile 
reverence,  or  over-light  scorn  of  the  opinions  of 
others. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

OF  the  impediments  which  have  been  in  the 
affection  of  pride,  specially  of  one  kind,  which  is 
the  disdain  of  dwelling  and  being  conversant 
much  in  experiences  and  particulars,  especially 
such  as  are  vulgar  in  occurrency,  and  base  and 
ignoble  in  use.  That  besides  certain  higher 
mysteries  of  pride,  generalities  seem  to  have  a 
dignity  and  solemnity,  in  that  they  do  not  put 
men  in  mind  of  their  familiar  actions,  in  that  they 
have  less  affinity  with  arts  mechanical  and 
illiberal,  in  that  they  are  not  so  subject  to  be  con 
trolled  by  persons  of  mean  observation,  in  that 
they  seem  to  teach  men  that  they  know  not,  and 
not  refer  them  to  that  they  know.  All  which  condi 
tions  directly  feeding  the  humour  of  pride,  parti 
culars  do  want.  That  the  majesty  of  generalities, 
and  the  divine  nature  of  the  mind  in  taking  them, 
if  they  be  truly  collected,  and  be  indeed  the  direct 
reflexions  of  things,  cannot  be  too  much  magnifi 
ed.  And  that  it  is  true,  that  interpretation  is  the 
very  natural  and  direct  intention,  action,  and  pro 
gression  of  the  understanding,  delivered  from  im 
pediments.  And  that  all  anticipation  is  but  a 
deflexion  or  declination  by  accident, 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

OF  the  impediments  which  have  been  in  the 
state  of  heathen  religion,  and  other  superstitions 
and  errors  of  religion.  And  that  in  the  true  reli 
gion  there  hath  not,  nor  is  any  impediment,  ex 
cept  it  be  by  accident  or  intermixture  of  humour 
That  a  religion  which  consisteth  in  rites  anc 
forms  of  adoration,  and  not  in  confessions  and 


beliefs,  is  adverse  to  knowledge:  because  men 
aving  liberty  to  inquire  and  discourse  of  theolo- 
ry  at  pleasure,  it  cometh  to  pass  that  all  inquisi- 
ion  of  nature  endeth  and  limiteth  itself  in  such 
netaphysical  or  theological  discourse ;  whereas 
f  men's  wits  be  shut  out  of  that  port,  it  turneth 
hem  again  to  discover,  and  so  to  seek  reason  of 
eason  more  deeply.  And  that  such  was  the  reli 
gion  of  the  heathen.  That  a  religion  that  is  jeal- 
nis  of  the  variety  of  learning,  discourse,  opinions, 
ind  sects,  as  misdoubting  it  may  shake  the  foun- 
lations,  or  that  cherisheth  devotion  upon  simpli 
city  and  ignorance,  as  ascribing  ordinary  effects 
,o  the  immediate  working  of  God,  is  adverse  to 
vnowledge.  That  such  is  the  religion  of  the 
Turk,  and  such  hath  been  the  abuse  of  Christian 
eligion  at  some  several  times,  and  in  some 
several  factions.  And  of  the  singular  advantage 
which  the  Christian  religion  hath  towards  the 
urtherance  of  true  knowledge,  in  that  it  ex- 
cludeth  and  interdicteth  human  reason,  whether 
ay  interpretation  or  anticipation,  from  examining 
or  discussing  of  the  mysteries  and  principles  of 
faith. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

OF  the  impediments  which  have  been  in  the 
nature  of  society,  and  the  policies  of  state.  That 
there  is  no  composition  of  estate  or  society,  nor 
order  or  quality  of  persons,  which  have  not  some 
point  of  contrariety  towards  true  knowledge. 
That  monarchies  incline  wits  to  profit  and  plea 
sure,  and  commonwealths  to  glory  and  vanity 
That  universities  incline  wits  to  sophistry  and 
affectation;  cloisters  to  fables  and  unprofitable 
subtilty ;  study  at  large  to  variety  ;  and  that  it  is 
hard  to  say,  whether  mixture  of  contemplations 
with  an  active  life,  or  retiring  wholly  to  contem. 
plations,  do  disable  and  hinder  the  mind  more. 


FILUM    LABYRINTH  I, 


SIVE 


FORMULA  INQUISITIONIS. 


AD  FILIOS. 


PARS  PRIMA. 


1.  FRANCIS   BACON  thought  in  this    manner. 
The  knowledge  whereof  the  world  is  now  pos 
sessed,  especially  that  of  nature,  extendeth  not  to 
magnitude  and  certainty  of  works.     The  physi 
cian  pronounceth  many  diseases  incurable,  and 
failcth  oft  in  the  rest.     The  alchemists  wax  old 
and  die  in  hopes.     The  magicians  perform  no 
thing  that  is  permanent  and  profitable.     The  me 
chanics  take  small  light  from  natural  philosophy, 
and   do  but   spin   on   their   own    little   threads. 
Chance  sometimes   discovereth   inventions;   but 
that  worketh  not  in  years,  but  ages.     So  he  saw 
well,  that  the  inventions  known  are  very  imper 
fect,  and  that  new  are  not  like  to  be  brought  to 
light  but  in  great  length  of  time;  and  that  those 
which  are,  came  not  to  light  by  philosophy. 

2.  He  thought  also  this  state  of  knowledge  was 
the  worse,  because  men  strive  against  themselves 
to  save  the  credit  of  ignorance,  and  to  satisfy 
themselves  in  this  poverty.     For  the  physician, 
besides  the  cautels  of  practice,  hath  this  general 
cautel  of  art,  that  he  dischargeth  the  weakness 
of  his  art  upon  supposed  impossibilities :  neither 
can  his  art  be  condemned,  when  itself  judgeth. 
That  philosophy  also,  out  of  which  the  knowledge 
of  physic  which  now  is  in  use  is  hewed,  receiveth 
certain  positions  and  opinions,  which,  if  they  be 
well  weighed,  induce  this  persuasion,  that  no  great 
works  are  to  be  expected  from  art,  and  the  hand 
of  man;  as,  in  particular  that  opinion,  that  "the 
heat  of  the  sun  and  fire  differ  in  kind ;"  and  that 
other,  "  that  composition  is  the  work  of  man,  and 
mixture  is  the  work  of  nature,"  and  the  like;  all 
tending  to  the  circumscription  of  man's  power, 
and  to  artificial  despair ;  killing  in  men  not  only 
the  comfort  of  imagination,  but  the  industry  of 
trial;    only  upon   vainglory,   to  have   their    art 
thought  perfect,  and  that  all  is  impossible  that  is 
not  already  found.     The  alchemists  dischargeth 
his  art  upon  his  own  errors,  either  supposing  a 

96 


misunderstanding  of  the  words  of  his  authors, 
which  maketh  him  listen  after  auricular  traditions ; 
or  else  a  failing  in  the  true  porportions  and  scru 
ples  of  practice,  which  maketh  him  renew  infi 
nitely  his  trials  ;  and  finding  also  that  he  lighteth 
upon  some  mean  experiments  and  conclusions  by 
the  way,  feedeth  upon  them,  and  magnifieth  them 
to  the  most,  and  supplieth  the  rest  in  hopes. 
The  magician,  when  he  findeth  something,  as  he 
conceiveth,  above  nature,  effected,  thmketh,  when 
a  breach  is  once  made  in  nature,  that  it  is  all  one 
to  perform  great  things  and  small ;  not  seeing, 
that  they  are  but  subjects  of  a  certain  kind, 
wherein  magic  and  superstition  hath  played  in  all 
times.  The  mechanical  person,  if  he  can  refine 
an  invention,  or  put  two  or  three  observations  or 
practices  together  in  one,  or  couple  things  better 
with  their  use,  or  make  the  work  in  less  or  greater 
volume,  taketh  himself  for  an  inventor.  So  he 
saw  well,  that  men  either  persuade  themselves  of 
new  inventions  as  of  impossibilities,  or  else  think 
they  are  already  extant,  but  in  secret  and  in  few 
hands ;  or  that  they  account  of  those  little  indus 
tries  and  additions,  as  of  inventions  :  all  which 
turneth  to  the  averting  of  their  minds  from  any 
just  and  constant  labour,  to  invent  further  in  any 
quantity. 

3.  He  thought  also,  when  men  did  set  before 
themselves  the  variety  and  perfection  of  works 
produced  by  mechanical  arts,  they  are  apt  rather  to 
admire  the  provisions  of  man,  than  to  apprehend 
his  wants ;  not  considering,  that  the  original  in 
ventions  and  conclusions  of  nature,  which  are  the 
life  of  all  that  variety,  are  not  many,  nor  deeply 
fetched  ;  and  that  the  rest  is  but  the  subtile  and 
ruled  motion  of  the  instrument  and  hand  ;  and  that 
the  shop  therein  is  not  unlike  the  library,  which 
in  such  number  of  books  containeth,  for  the  far 
greater  part,  nothing  but  iterations,  varied  some 
times  in  form,  but  not  new  in  substance.  So  he 


FILUM  LABYRINTHI. 


97 


saw  plainly,  that  opinion  of  store  was  a  cause  of 
want;  and  that  both  works  and  doctrines  appear 
many,  and  are  few. 

4.  He  thought  also,  that  knowledge  is  uttered 
to  men  in  a  form,  as  if  every  thing  were  finished  ; 
for  it  is  reduced  into  arts  and  methods  ;  which  in 
their  divisions  do  seem  to  include  all  that  may  be. 
And  how  weakly  soever  the  parts  are  filled,  yet 
they  carry  the  show  and  reason  of  a  total ;  and 
thereby  the  writings  of  some  received  authors  go 
for  the  very  art :  whereas  antiquity  used  to  deliver 
the  knowledge  which  the  mind   of  man  hath 
gathered,  in  observations,  aphorisms,  or  short  and 
dispersed  sentences,  or  small  tractates  of  some 
parts   that    they  had    diligently   meditated   and 
laboured ;  which  did  invite  men,  both  to  ponder 
that  which  was  invented,  and  to  add  and  supply 
further.     But  now  sciences  are  delivered   to  be 
believed  and  accepted,  and  not  to  be  examined 
arid  further  discovered ;  and  the  succession  is  be 
tween  master  and  disciple,  and  not  between  in 
ventor  and  continuer  or  advancer :  and  therefore 
sciences  stand  at  a  stay,  and  have  done  for  many 
ages,  and  that  which  is  positive  is  fixed,  and  that 
which  is  question  is  kept  question,  so  as  the  co 
lumns  of  no  further  proceeding  are  pitched.     And 
therefore  he  saw  plainly  men  had  cut  themselves 
off  from  further  invention ;  and  that  it  is  no  mar 
vel,  that  that  is  not  obtained  which  hath  not  been 
attempted,  but  rather  shut  out  and  debarred. 

5.  He  thought  also,  that  knowledge  is  almost 
generally  sought  either  for  delight  and  satisfac 
tion,  or  for  gain  or  profession,  or  for  credit  and 
ornament,  and  that  every  of  these  are  as  Atalanta's 
balls,  which  hinder  the  race  of  invention.     For 
men  are  so  far  in  these  courses  from  seeking  to 
increase  the  mass  of  knowledge,  as  of  that  mass 
which  is  they  will  take  no  more  than  will  serve 
their  turn :  and  if  any  one  amongst  so  many  seek- 
eth  knowledge  for  itself,  yet  he  rather  seeketh  to 
know  the  variety  of  things,  than  to  discern  of  the 
truth  and  causes  of  them ;  and  if  his  inquisition 
be  yet  more  severe,  yet  it  tendeth  rather  to  judg 
ment  than  to  invention;   and  rather  to  discover 
truth  in  controversy,  than  new  matter ;  and  if  his 
heart  be  so  large  as  he  propoundeth  to  himself 
further  discovery  or  invention,  yet  it  is  rather  of 
new  discourse  and  speculation  of  causes,  than  of 
effects  and   operations.     And  as   for  those  that 
have  so  much  in  their  mouths,  action  and  use  and 
practice,  and  the  referring  of  sciences  thereunto ; 
they  mean  it  of  application  of  that  which  is 
known,  and  not  of  a  discovery  of  that  which  is 
unknown.     So  he  saw  plainly,  that  this  mark, 
namely,  invention  of  further  means  to  endow  the 
condition  and  life  of  man  with  new  powers  or 
works,  was  almost  never  yet  set  up  and  resolved 
in  man's  intention  and  inquiry. 

6.  He  thought  also,  that,  amongst  other  know 
ledges,  natural  philosophy  hath  been  the  least 
followed  and  laboured.     For  since  the  Christian 

VOL.  I.-  13 


faith,  the  greatest  number  of  wits  have  been  em 
ployed,  and  the  greatest  helps  and  rewards  have 
been  conferred,  upon  divinity.  And  before-time 
likewise,  the  greatest  part  of  the  studies  of  philo 
sophers  was  consumed  in  moral  philosophy,  which 
was  as  the  heathen  divinity.  And  in  both  times 
a  great  part  of  the  best  wits  betook  themselves  to 
law,  pleadings,  and  causes  of  estate;  specially  in 
the  time  of  the  greatness  of  the  Romans,  who  by 
reason  of  their  large  empire  needed  the  service  of 
all  their  able  men  for  civil  business.  And  the 
time  amongst  the  Grecians,  in  which  natural  phi 
losophy  seemed  most  to  flourish,  was  but  a  short 
space;  and  that  also  rather  abused  in  differing 
sects  and  conflicts  of  opinions  than  profitably 
spent.  Since  which  time,  natural  philosophy 
was  never  any  profession,  nor  never  possessed 
any  whole  man,  except  perchance  some  monk  in 
a  cloister,  or  some  gentleman  in  the  country,  and 
that  very  rarely ;  but  became  a  science  of  passage, 
to  season  a  little  young  and  unripe  wits,  and  to 
serve  for  an  introduction  to  other  arts,  especially 
physic  and  the  practical  mathematics.  So  as  he 
saw  plainly,  that  natural  philosophy  hath  been 
intended  by  few  persons,  and  in  them  hath  occu 
pied  the  least  part  of  their  time,  and  that  in  the 
weakest  of  their  age  and  judgment. 

7.  He  thought  also,  how  great  opposition  and 
prejudice  natural  philosophy  had  received  by 
superstition,  and  the  immoderate  and  blind  zeal 
of  religion ;  for  he  found  that  some  of  the  Gre 
cians,  which  first  gave  the  rea.son  of  thunder,  had 
been  condemned  of  impiety ;  and  that  the  cos- 
mographers,  which  first  discovered  and  described 
the  roundness  of  the  earth,  and  the  consequence 
thereof  touching  the  antipodes,  were  not  much 
otherwise  censured  by  the  ancient  fathers  of  the 
Christian  church ;  and  that  the  case  is  now  much 
worse,  in  regard  of  the  boldness  of  the  school 
men  and  their  dependences  in  the  monasteries, 
who  having  made  divinity  into  an  art,  have  al 
most  incorporated  the  contentious  philosophy  of 
Aristotle  into  the  body  of  Christian  religion  :  and 
generally  he  perceived  in  men  of  devout  simplicity 
this  opinion,  that  the  secrets  of  nature  were  the 
secrets  of  God ;  and  part  of  that  glory  whereinto 
the  mind  of  man,  if  it  seek  to  press,  shall  be  op 
pressed  ;  and  that  the  desire  in  men  to  attain  to  so 
great  and  hidden  knowledge,  hath  a  resemblance 
with  that  temptation  which  caused  the  original 
fall ;  and  on  the  other  side,  in  men  of  a  devout 
policy,  he  noted  an  inclination  to  have  the  people 
depend  upon  God  the  more,  when  they  are  less 
acquainted  with  second  causes;  and  to  have  no 
stirring  in  philosophy,  lest  it  may  lead  to  an  inno 
vation  in  divinity,  or  else  should  discover  matter 
of  further  contradiction  to  divinity.  But  in  this 
part,  resorting  to  the  authority  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  holy  examples,  and  to  reason,  he  rested  not 
satisfied  alone,  but  much  confirmed.  For  first, 
he  considered  that  the  knowledge  of  nature,  by 


98 


FILUM  LABYRINTHI. 


the  light  whereof  man  discerned  of  every  living 
creature,  and  imposed  names  according  to  their 
propriety,  was  not  the  occasion  of  the  fall ;  but 
the  moral  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  affected  to 
the  end  to  depend  no  more  upon  God's  command 
ments,  but  for  man  to  direct  himself.  Neither 
could  he  find  in  any  Scripture,  that  the  inquiry 
and  science  of  man  in  any  thing,  under  the  mys 
teries  of  the  Deity,  is  determined  and  restrained, 
but  contrariwise  allowed  and  provoked.  For 
concerning  all  other  knowledge  the  Scripture  pro- 
nounceth,  "  That  it  is  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal, 
but  it  is  the  glory  of  man  (or  of  the  king,  for  the 
kino-  is  but  the  excellency  of  man)  to  invent;" 
and  again,  "The  spirit  of  man  is  as  the  lamp  of 
God,  wherewith  he  searcheth  every  secret;"  and 
again  most  effectually,  "  That  God  hath  made  all 
things  beautiful  and  decent,  according  to  the  re^ 
turn  of  their  seasons ;  also  that  he  hath  set  the 
world  in  man's  heart,  and  yet  man  cannot  find 
out  the  work  which  God  worketh  from  the  be 
ginning  to  the  end ;"  showing  that  the  heart  of 
man  is  a  continent  of  that  concave  or  capacity, 
wherein  the  content  of  the  world,  that  is,  all  forms 
of  the  creatures,  and  whatsoever  is  not  God,  may 
be  placed  or  received;  and  complaining,  that 
through  the  variety  of  things,  and  vicissitudes  of 
times,  which  are  but  impediments  and  not  impuis- 
sances,  man  cannot  accomplish  his  invention.  In 
precedent  also  he  set  before  his  eyes,  that  in  those 
few  memorials  before  the  flood,  the  Scripture 
honoureth  the  name  of  the  inventors  of  music  and 
•works  in  metal ;  that  Moses  had  this  addition  of 
praise,  that  he  was  seen  in  all  the  learning  of  the 
Egyptians;  that  Solomon,  in  his  grant  of  wisdom 
from  God,  had  contained,  as  a  branch  thereof,  that 
knowledge  whereby  he  wrote  a  natural  history  of 
all  verdure,  from  the  cedar  to  the  moss,  and  of  all 
that  breatheth :  that  the  book  of  Job,  and  many 
places  of  the  prophets,  have  great  aspersion  of 
natural  philosophy ;  that  the  church  in  the  bosom 
and  lap  thereof,  in  the  greatest  injuries  of  times, 
ever  preserved,  as  holy  relics,  the  books  of  philo 
sophy  and  all  heathen  learning ;  and  that  when 
Gregory,  the  bishop  of  Rome,  became  adverse 
and  unjust  to  the  memory  of  heathen  antiquity,  it 
was  censured  for  pusillanimity  in  him,  and  the 
honour  thereof  soon  after  restored,  and  his  own 
memory  almost  persecuted  by  his  successor  Sabi- 
nian;  and  lastly,  in  our  times,  and  the  ages  of 
our  fathers,  when  Luther  and  the  divines  of  the 
Protestant  church  on  the  one  side,  and  the  Jesuits 
on  the  other,  have  enterprised  to  reform,  the  one 
the  doctrine,  the  other  the  discipline  and  manners 
of  the  church  of  Rome,  he  saw  well  how  both 
of  them  have  awaked  to  their  great  honour  and 
succour,  all  human  learning.  And  for  reason, 
there  cannot  be  a  greater  and  more  evident  than 
this,  that  all  knowledge,  and  specially  that  of  na 
tural  philosophy,  tendeth  highly  to  the  magnify 
ing  of  the  glory  of  God,  in  his  power,  providence, 


and  benefits,  appearing  and  engraven  in  his  works, 
which  without  this  knowledge  are  beheld  but  as 
through  a  veil :  for  if  the  heavens  in  the  body  of 
them  do  declare  the  glory  of  God  to  the  eye, 
much  more  do  they  in  the  rule  and  decrees  of 
them  declare  it  to  the  understanding.  And 
another  reason,  not  inferior  to  this,  is,  that  the 
same  natural  philosophy  principally  amongst  all 
other  human  knowledge,  doth  give  an  excellent 
defence  against  both  extremes  of  religion,  super 
stition,  and  infidelity  ;  for  both  it  freeth  the  mind 
from  a  number  of  weak  fancies  and  imaginations, 
and  it  raiseth  the  mind  to  acknowledge  that  to 
God  all  things  are  possible :  for  to  that  purpose 
speaketh  our  Saviour  in  that  first  canon  against 
heresies,  delivered  upon  the  case  of  the  resurrec 
tion,  "You  err,  not  knowing  the  Scriptures,  nor 
the  power  of  God ;"  teaching  that  thei3  are  but 
two  fountains  of  heresy,  not  knowing  ths  will  of 
God  revealed  in  the  Scriptures,  and  not  knowing 
the  power  of  God  revealed  or  at  least  made  most 
sensible  in  bis  creatures.  So  as  he  saw  well,  that 
natural  philosophy  was  of  excellent  use  to  the 
exaltation  of  the  Divine  Majesty;  and,  that  which 
is  admirable,  that  being  a  remedy  of  superstition,  it 
is  nevertheless  an  help  to  faith.  He  saw  likewise, 
that  the  former  opinions  to  the  prejudice  hereof  had 
no  true  ground  ;  but  must  spring  either  out  of  mere 
ignorance,  or  out  of  an  excess  of  devotion,  to  have 
divinity  all  in  all ;  whereas  it  should  be  only 
above  all ;  both  which  states  of  mind  may  be  best 
pardoned  ;  or  else  out  of  worse  causes,  namely  out 
of  envy,  which  is  proud  weakness,  and  deserveth 
to  be  despised ;  or  out  of  some  mixture  of  imposture, 
to  tell  a  lie  for  God's  cause ;  or  out  of  an  impious 
diffidence,  as  if  men  should  fear  to  discover  som 
things  in  nature  which  might  subvert  faith.  But 
still  he  saw  well,  howsoever  these  opinions  are 
in  right  reason  reproved,  yet  they  leave  not  to  be 
most  effectual  hinderances  to  natural  philosophy 
and  invention. 

8.  He  thought  also,  that  there  wanted  not  great 
contrariety  to  the  further  discovery  of  sciences  in 
regard  of  the  orders  and  customs  of  universities, 
and  also  in  regard  of  common  opinion.  For  in 
universities  and  colleges  men's  studies  are  almost 
confined  to  certain  authors,  from  which  if  any  dis- 
senteth  or  propoundeth  matter  of  redargution,  it  is 
enough  to  make  him  thought  a  person  turbulent ; 
whereas  if  it  be  well  advised,  there  is  a  great  dif 
ference  to  be  made  between  matters  contemplative 
and  active.  For  in  government  change  is  sus 
pected,  though  the  better ;  but  it  is  natural  to  arts 
to  be  in  perpetual  agitation  and  growth.  Neither 
is  the  danger  alike  of  new  light,  and  of  new  mo 
tion  or  remove  ;  and  for  vulgar  and  received  opi 
nions,  nothing  is  more  usual,  or  more  usually 
complained  of,  than  that  it  is  imposed  for  arrogancy 
and  presumption,  for  men  to  authorize  themselves 
against  antiquity  and  authors,  towards  whom 
envy  is  ceased,  and  reverence  by  time  amortised 


FILUM  LABYRINTHI. 


99 


it  not  being  considered  what  Aristotle  himself  did, 
upon  whom  the  philosophy  that  now  is  chiefly  de- 
pendeth,  who  came  with  a  professed  contradiction 
to  all  the  world,  and  did  put  all  his  opinions  upon 
his  own  authority  and  argument,  and  never  so  much 
as  nameth  an  author  but  to  confute  and  reprove  him ; 
and  yet  his  success  well  fulfilled  the  observation 
of  Him  that  said,  "  If  a  man  come  in  his  own 
name,  him  will  you  receive."  Men  think,  like 
wise,  that  if  they  should  give  themselves  to  the 
liberty  of  invention  and  travail  of  inquiry,  that 
they  shall  light  again  upon  some  conceits  and 
contemplations  which  have  been  formerly  offered 
to  the  world,  and  have  been  put  down  by  the  bet 
ter,  which  have  prevailed  and  brought  them  to 
oblivion;  not  seeing,  that  howsoever  the  property 
and  breeding  of  knowledges  is  in  great  and  excel 
lent  wits,  yet  the  estimation  and  price  of  them 
is  in  the  multitude,  or  in  the  inclinations  of  princes 
and  great  persons  meanly  learned.  So  as  those 
knowledges  are  like  to  be  received  and  honoured, 
which  have  their  foundation  in  the  subtilty  or 
finest  trial  of  common  sense,  or  such  as  fill  the 
imagination,  and  not  such  knowledge  as  is  digged 
out  of  the  hard  mine  of  history  and  experience, 
and  falleth  out  to  be  in  some  points  as  adverse  to 
common  sense,  or  popular  reason,  as  religion,  or 
more.  Which  kind  of  knowledge,  except  it  be 
delivered  with  strange  advantages  of  eloquence 
and  power,  may  be  likely  to  appear  and  disclose 
a  little  to  the  world,  and  straight  to  vanish  and 
shut  again.  So  that  time  seemeth  to  be  of  the  na 
ture  of  a  river  or  flood,  that  bringeth  down  to  us 
that  which  is  light  and  blown  up,  and  sinketh  and 
drowneth  that  which  is  solid  and  grave.  So  he 
saw  well,  that  both  in  the  state  of  religion,  and  in 
the  administration  of  learning,  and  in  common 
opinion,  there  were  many  and  continual  stops  and 
traverses  to  the  course  of  invention. 

9.  He  thought  also,  that  the  invention  of  works 
and  further  possibility  was  prejudiced  in  a  more 
special  manner  than  that  of  speculative  truth ;  for 
besides  the  impediments  common  to  both,  it  hath 
by  itself  been  notably  hurt  and  discredited  by  the 
vain  promises  and  protences  of  alchemy,  magic, 
astrology,  and  such  other  arts,  which,  as  they  now 


pass,  hold  much  more  of  imagination  and  belief  than 
of  sense  and  demonstration.  But  to  use  the  poet's 
language,  men  ought  to  have  remembered,  that 
although  Ixion  of  a  cloud  in  the  likeness  of  Juno 
begat  Centaurs  and  Chimaeras,  yet  Jupiter  also  of 
the  true  Juno  begat  Vulcan  and  Hebe.  Neither 
is  it  just  to  deny  credit  to  the  greatness  of  the  acts 
of  Alexander,  because  the  like  or  more  strange 
have  been  feigned  of  an  Amadis  or  an  Arthur,  or 
other  fabulous  worthies.  But  though  this  in  true 
reason  should  be,  and  that  men  ought  not  to  make 
a  confusion  of  unbelief;  yet  he  saw  wrell  it  could 
not  otherwise  be  in  event,  but  that  experience  of 
untruth  had  made  access  to  truth  more  difficult,  and 
that  the  ignominy  of  vanity  had  abated  all  great 
ness  of  mind. 

10.  He  thought  also,  there  was  found  in  the 
mind  of  man  an  affection  naturally  bred  and  forti 
fied,  and  furthered  by  discourse  and  doctrine,  which 
did  pervert  the  true  proceeding  towards  active  and 
operative  knowledge.  This  was  a  false  estima 
tion,  that  it  should  be  as  a  diminution  to  the  mind 
of  man  to  be  much  conversant  in  experiences  and 
particulars,  subject  to  sense,  and  bound  in  matter, 
and  which  are  laborious  to  search,  ignoble  to  medi 
tate,  harsh  to  deliver,  illiberal  to  practise,  infinite  as 
is  supposed  in  number,  and  noways  accommodate 
to  the  glory  of  arts.  This  opinion  or  state  of  mind 
received  much  credit  and  strength  by  the  school 
of  Plato,  who  thinking  that  particulars  rather  re 
vived  the  notions,  or  excited  the  faculties  of  the 
mind,  than  merely  informed  :  and  having  mingled 
his  philosophy  with  superstition,  which  never 
favoureth  the  sense,  extolleth  too  much  the  under 
standing  of  man  in  the  inward  light  thereof.  And 
again,  Aristotle's  school,  which  giveth  the  due  to 
the  sense  in  assertion,  denieth  it  in  practice  much 
more  than  that  of  Plato.  For  we  see  the  school 
men,  Aristotle's  successors,  which  were  utterly 
ignorant  of  history,  rested  only  upon  agitation  of 
wit ;  whereas  Plato  giveth  good  example  of  in 
quiry  by  induction  and  view  of  particulars :  though 
in  such  a  wandering  manner  as  is  of  no  force  or 
fruit.  So  that  he  saw  well,  that  the  supposition  of 
the  sufficiency  of  man's  mind  hath  lost  the  means 
thereof. 


SEQUELA    CHART ARUM; 


SIVE 


INQUISITIO  LEGITIMA 


DE   GALORE   ET   FRIGORE. 


SECTIO  ORDINIS. 
Charta  suggestionis,  site  memoriafixa. 


THE  sunbeams  hot  to  sense. 

The  moonbeams  not  hot,  but  rather  conceived  to 
have  a  quality  of  cold,  for  that  the  greatest  colds 
are  noted  to  be  about  the  full,  and  the  greatest 
heats  about  the  change.  Query. 

The  beams  of  the  stars  have  no  sensible  heat  by 
themselves ;  but  are  conceived  to  have  an  augmen 
tative  heat  of  the  sunbeams  by  the  instance  follow 
ing.  The  same  climate  arctic  and  antarctic  are 
observed  to  differ  in  cold,  viz.  that  the  antarctic  is 
the  more  cold,  and  it  is  manifest  the  antarctic  hemi 
sphere  is  thinner  planted  with  stars. 

The  heats  observed  to  be  greater  in  July  than  in 
June  ;  at  which  time  the  sun  is  nearest  the  great 
est  fixed  stars,  viz.  Cor  Leonis,  Cauda  Leonis, 
Spica,  Virginis,  Sirius,  Canicula. 

The  conjunction  of  any  two  of  the  three  highest 
planets  noted  to  cause  great  heats. 

Comets  conceived  by  some  to  be  as  well  causes 
as  effects  of  heat,  much  more  the  stars. 

The  sunbeams  have  greater  heat  when  they  are 
more  perpendicular  than  wrhen  they  are  more 
oblique  :  as  appeareth  in  difference  of  regions,  and 
the  difference  of  the  times  of  summer  and  winter 
in  the  same  region ;  and  chiefly  in  the  difference  of 
the  hours  of  mid-day,  mornings,  evenings,  in  the 
same  day. 

The  heats  more  extreme  in  July  and  August  than 
in  May  or  June,  commonly  imputed  to  the  stay  and 
continuance  of  heat. 

The  heats  more  extreme  under  the  tropics  than 
under  the  line  :  commonly  imputed  to  the  stay  and 
continuance  of  heat,  because  the  sun  there  doth  as 
it  were  double  a  cape. 

The  heats  more  about  three  or  four  of  clock  than 
at  noon  ;  commonly  imputed  to  the  stay  and  conti 
nuance  of  heat. 
100 


The  sun  noted  to  be  hotter  when  it  shineth  forth 
between  clouds,  than  when  the  sky  is  open  and 
serene. 

The  middle  region  of  the  air  hath  manifest 
effects  of  cold,  notwithstanding  locally  it  be  nearer 
the  sun,  commonly  imputed  to  antiperistasis, 
assuming  that  the  beams  of  the  sun  are  hot  either 
by  approach  or  by  reflection,  and  that  falleth  in 
the  middle  term  between  both ;  or  if,  as  some 
conceive,  it  be  only  by  reflection,  then  the  cold  of 
that  region  resteth  chiefly  upon  distance.  The 
instances  showing  the  cold  of  that  region,  are  the 
snows  which  descend,  the  hails  which  descend, 
and  the  snows  and  extreme  colds  which  are  upon 
high  mountains. 

But  Qu.  of  such  mountains  as  adjoin  to  sandy 
vales,  and  not  to  fruitful  vales,  which  minister 
no  vapours :  or  of  mountains  above  the  region 
of  vapours,  as  is  reported  of  Olympus,  where  any 
inscription  upon  the  ashes  of  the  altar  remained 
untouched  of  wind  or  dew.  And  note,  it  is  also 
reported  that  men  carry  up  sponges  with  vinegar 
to  thicken  their  breath,  the  air  growing  too  fine 
for  respiration,  which  seemeth  not  to  stand  with 
coldness. 

The  clouds  make  a  mitigation  of  the  heat  of  the 
sun.  So  doth  the  interposition  of  any  body,  which 
we  term  shades  :  but  yet  the  nights  in  summer  are 
many  times  as  hot  to  the  feeling  of  men's  bodies  as 
the  days  are  within  doors,  where  the  beams  of  the 
sun  actually  beat  not. 

There  is  no  other  nature  of  heat  known  from  the 
celestial  bodies  or  from  the  air,  but  that  which 
cometh  by  the  sunbeams.  For  in  the  countries 
near  the  pole,  we  see  the  extreme  colds  end  in 
the  summer  months,  as  in  the  voyage  of  Nova 
Zembla,  where  they  could  not  disengage  their 


DE  GALORE  ET  FRIGORE. 


101 


barks  from  the  ice,  no,  not  in  July,  and  met  with 
great  mountains  of  ice,  some  floating1,  some  fixed, 
at  that  time  of  the  year,  being  the  heart  of  summer. 

The  caves  under  the  earth  noted  to  be  warmer 
in  winter  than  in  summer,  and  so  the  waters  that 
spring  from  within  the  earth. 

Great  quantity  of  sulphur,  and  sometimes  natu 
rally  burningafter  the  manner  of JEtna,  inlceland ; 
the  like  written  of  Greenland,  and  divers  others  the 
cold  countries.* 

The  trees  in  the  cold  countries  are  such  as  are 
fuller  of  rosin,  pitch,  tar,  which  are  matters  apt 
for  fire,  and  the  woods  themselves  more  combus 
tible  than  those  in  much  hotter  countries ;  as,  for 
example,  fir,  pineapple,  juniper.  Qu.  Whether 
their  trees  of  the  same  kind  that  ours  are,  as  oak 
and  ash,  bear  not,  in  the  more  cold  countries,  a 
wood  more  brittle  and  ready  to  take  fire  than  the 
same  kinds  with  us1? 

The  sunbeams  heat  manifestly  by  reflection,  as 
in  countries  pent  in  with  hills,  upon  walls  or 
buildings,  upon  pavements,  upon  gravel  more  than 
earth,  upon  arable  more  than  grass,  upon  rivers 
if  they  be  not  very  open,  &c. 

The  uniting  or  collection  of  the  sunbeams  mul- 
tiplieth  heat,  as  in  burning-glasses,  which  are 
made  thinner  in  the  middle  than  on  the  sides,  as 
I  take  it,  contrary  to  spectacles ;  and  the  opera 
tion  of  them  is,  as  I  remember,  first  to  place  them 
between  the  sun  and  the  body  to  be  fired,  and  then 
to  draw  them  upward  towards  the  sun,  which  it  is 
true  maketh  the  angle  of  the  cone  sharper.  But  then 
I  take  it  if  the  glass  had  been  first  placed  at  the 
same  distance  to  which  it  is  after  drawn,  it  would 
not  have  had  that  force,  and  yet  that  had  been  all 
one  to  the  sharpness  of  the  angle.  Qu. 

So  in  that  the  sun's  beams  are  hotter  perpendi 
cularly  than  obliquely,  it  may  be  imputed  to  the 
union  of  the  beams,  which  in  case  of  perpendicu 
larity  reflect  into  the  very  same  lines  with  the 
direct ;  and  the  further  from  perpendicularity  the 
more  obtuse  the  angle,  and  the  greater  distance 
between  the  direct  beam  and  the  reflected  beam. 

The  sunbeams  raise  vapours  out  of  the  earth, 
and  when  they  withdraw  they  fall  back  in  dews. 

The  sunbeams  do  many  times  scatter  the  mists 
which  are  in  the  mornings. 

The  sunbeams  cause  the  divers  returns  of  the 
herbs,  plants,  and  fruits  of  the  earth ;  for  we  see 
in  lemon-trees  and  the  like,  that  there  is  coming 
on  at  once  fruit  ripe,  fruit  unripe,  and  blossoms ; 
which  may  show  that  the  plant  worketh  to  put 
forth  continually,  were  it  not  for  the  variations  of 
the  excesses  and  recesses  of  the  sun,  which  call 
forth,  and  put  back. 

The  excessive  heat  of  the  sun  doth  wither  and 
destroy  vegetables,  as  well  as  the  cold  doth  nip 
and  blast  them. 


*  Nn  doubt  but  infinite  power  the  heat  of  the  sun  in  cold 
countries,  though  it  be  not  to  the  analogy  of  men  and  fruits, 
&c. 


The  heat  or  beams  of  the  sun  doth  take  away 
the  smell  of  flowers,  specially  such  as  are  of  a 
milder  odour. 

The  beams  of  the  sun  do  disclose  summer 
flowers,  as  the  pimpernel,  marigold,  and  almost 
all  flowers  else,  for  they  close  commonly  morning 
and  evening,  or  in  overcast  weather,  and  opsn  in 
the  brightness  of  the  sun:"  which  is  but  imputed 
to  dryness  and  moisture,  which  doth  make  the 
beams  heavy  or  erect,  and  n'ot  fo  ar>y  other  pio- 
priety  in  the  sunbeams ;  so  the}  report'  not  only 
a  closing,  but  a  bending  or  inclining  in  the 
"  heliotropium"  and  "  calendula.'.'  Qu. 

The  sunbeams  do  ripen  all  fruits,  and  addeth 
to  them  a  sweetness  or  fatness ;  and  yet  some 
sultry  hot  days  overcast,  are  noted  to  ripen  more 
than  bright  days. 

The  sunbeams  are  thought  to  mend  distilled 
waters,  the  glasses  being  well-stopped,  and  to 
make  them  more  virtuous  and  fragrant. 

The  sunbeams  do  turn  wine  into  vinegar;  but 
Qu.  whether  they  would  not  sweeten  verjuice  ? 

The  sunbeams  do  pall  any  wine  or  beer  that  is 
set  in  them. 

The  sunbeams  do  take  away  the  lustre  of  any 
silks  or  arras. 

There  is  almost  no  mine  but  lieth  some  depth 
in  the  earth ;  gold  is  conceived  to  lie  highest,  and 
in  the  hottest  countries;  yet  Thracia  and  Hun 
gary  are  cold,  and  the  hills  of  Scotland  have 
yielded  gold,  but  in  small  grains  or  quantity. 

If  you  set  a  root  of  a  tree  too  deep  in  the 
ground,  that  root  will  perish,  and  the  stock  will  put 
forth  a  new  root  nearer  the  superficies  of  the  earth. 

Some  trees  and  plants  prosper  best  in  the  shade ; 
as  the  bays,  strawberries,  some  wood-flowers. 

Almost  all  flies  love  the  sunbeams,  so  do 
snakes  ;  toads  and  worms  the  contrary. 

The  sunbeams  tanneth  the  skin  of  man  ;  and  in 
some  places  turneth  it  to  black. 

The  sunbeams  are  hardly  endured  by  many, 
but  cause  headache,  faintness,  and  with  many 
they  cause  rheums ;  yet  to  aged  men  they  are 
comfortable. 

The  sun  causes  pestilence,  which  with  us  rages 
about  autumn  :  but  it  is  reported  in  Barbary  they 
break  up  about  June,  and  rage  most  in  the  winter. 

The  heat  of  the  sun,  and  of  fire,  and  living 
creatures,  agree  in  some  things  which  pertain  to 
vivification ;  as  the  back  of  a  chimney  will  set 
forward  an  apricot-tree  as  well  as  the  sun ;  the 
fire  will  raise  a  dead  butterfly  as  well  as  the  sun  ; 
and  so  will  the  heat  of  a  living  creature.  The 
heat  of  the  sun  in  sand  will  hatch  an  egg.  Qu. 

The  heat  of  the  sun  in  the  hottest  countries 
nothing  so  violent  as  that  of  fire,  no  not  scarcely 
so  hot  to  the  sense  as  that  of  a  living  creature. 

The  sun,  a  fountain  of  light  as  well  as  heat. 
The  other  celestial  bodies  manifest  in  light,  ana 
yet  "non  constat"  whether  all  borrowed,  as  in 
the  moon,  but  obscure  in  heat. 
12 


102 


DE  GALORE  ET  FRIGORE. 


The  southern  and  western  wind  with  us  is  the 
warmest,  thereof  the  one  bloweth  from  the  sun, 
the  other  from  the  sea :  the  northern  and  eastern 
the  more  cold.  Qu.  Whether  in  the  coast  of  Flo 
rida,  or  at  Brasil,  the  east  wind  he  not  the  warm 
est,  and  the  west  the  coldest;  and  so  beyond  the 
antarctic  tropic,  the  southern  wind  the  coldest. 

-Th>.  air  useth  u>  bo  extreme  hot  before  thunders. 

'Tile  sea  and  air  ambisit,  appeareth  to  be  hotter 
than  that  cl*  land ;  for  in  the  northern  voyages 
two  or  tiiree  degrees  farther  at  the  open  sea,  they 
find  less  ice  than  two  or  three  degrees  more  south 
near  land ;  but  Qu.  for  that  may  be  by  reason  of 
the  shores  and  shallows. 

The  snows  dissolve  fastest  upon  the  sea-coasts, 
yet  the  winds  are  counted  the  bitterest  from  the 
sea,  and  such  as  trees  will  bend  from.  Qu. 

The  streams  or  clouds  of  brightness  which  ap 
pear  in  the  firmament,  being  such  through  which 
the  stars  may  be  seen,  and  shoot  not,  but  rest, 
are  signs  of  heat. 

The  pillars  of  light,  which  are  so  upright,  and 
do  commonly  shoot  and  vary,  are  signs  of  cold ; 
but  both  these  are  signs  of  drought. 

The  air  when  it  is  moved  is  to  the  sense  colder ; 
as  in  winds,  fannings,  ventilabra. 

The  air  in  things  fibrous,  as  fleeces,  furs,  &c. 
warm  ;  and  those  stuffs  to  the  feeling  warm. 

The  water  to  man's  body  seemeth  colder  than 
the  air;  and  so  in  summer,  in  swimming  it  seem 
eth  at  the  first  going  in ;  and  yet  after  one  hath 
been  in  a  while,  at  the  coming  forth  again,  the  air 
seemeth  colder  than  the  water. 

The  snow  more  cold  to  the  sense  than  water, 
and  the  ice  than  snow ;  and  they  have  in  Italy 
means  to  keep  snow  and  ice  for  the  cooling  of 
their  drinks.  Qu.  Whether  it  be  so  in  froth  in  re 
spect  of  the  liquor] 

Baths  of  hot  water  feel  hottest  at  the  first  going 
in. 

The  frost  dew  which  we  see  in  hoar-frost,  and 
in  the  rimes  upon  trees  or  the  like,  accounted 
more  mortifying  cold  than  snow ;  for  snow  che- 
risheth  the  ground,  and  any  thing  sowed  in  it :  the 
other  biteth  and  killeth. 

Stone  and  metal  exceeding  cold  to  the  feeling 
more  than  wood  :  yea  more  than  jet  or  amber,  or 
horn,  which  are  no  less  smooth. 

The  snow  is  ever  in  the  winter  season,  but  the 
hail,  which  is  more  of  the  nature  of  ice,  is  ever  in 
the  summer  season;  whereupon  it  is  conceived, 
that  as  the  hollows  of  the  earth  are  warmest  in 
the  winter,  so  that  region  of  the  air  is  coldest  in 
the  summer ;  as  if  they  were  a  fugue  of  the  na 
ture  of  either  from  the  contrary,  and  a  collecting 
itself  to  an  union,  and  so  to  a  further  strength. 

So  in  the  shades  under  trees,  in  the  summer, 
which  stand  in  an  open  field,  the  shade  noted  to 
be  colder  than  in  a  wood. 

Cold  effecteth  congelation  in  liquors,  so  as  they 
do  consist  and  hold  together,  which  before  did  run. 


Cold  breaketh  glasses,  if  they  be  close  stopped, 
in  frost,  when  the  liquor  freezeth  within. 

Cold  in  extreme  maketh  metals,  that  are  dry 
and  brittle,  cleft  and  crack,  "./Eraque  dissiliunt;" 
so  of  pots  of  earth  and  glass. 

Cold  maketh  bones  of  living  creatures  more 
ragile. 

Cold  maketh  living  creatures  to  swell  in  the 
oints,  and  the  blood  to  clot,  and  turn  more  blue. 

Bitter  frosts  do  make  all  drinks  to  taste  more 
dead  and  fiat. 

Cold  maketh  the  arteries  and  flesh  more  asper 
and  rough. 

Cold  causes  rheums  and  distillations  by  com 
pressing  the  brain,  and  laxes  by  like  reason. 

Cold  increases  appetite  in  the  stomach,  and 
willingness  to  stir. 

Cold  maketh  the  fire  to  scald  and  sparkle. 

Paracelsus  reporteth,  that  if  a  glass  of  wine  be 
set  upon  a  terras  in  a  bitter  frost,  it  will  leave 
some  liquor  unfrozen  in  the  centre  of  the  glass, 
which  excelleth  "  spiritus  vini"  drawn  by  fire. 

Cold  in  Muscovy,  and  the  like  countries, 
causes  those  parts  which  are  voidest  of  blood,  as 
the  nose,  the  ears,  the  toes,  the  fingers,  to  mortify 
and  rot;  especially  if  you  come  suddenly  to  fire, 
after  you  have  been  in  the  air  abroad,  they  are 
sure  to  moulder  and  dissolve.  They  use  for  re 
medy,  as  is  said,  washing  in  snow  water. 

If  a  man  come  out  of  a  bitter  cold  suddenly  to 
the  fire,  he  is  ready  to  swoon,  or  be  overcome. 

So  contrariwise  at  Nova  Zembla,  when  they 
opened  their  door  at  times  to  go  forth,  he  that 
opened  the  door  was  in  danger  to  be  overcome. 

The  quantity  of  fish  in  the  cold  countries,  Nor 
way,  &c.  very  abundant. 

The  quantity  of  fowl  and  eggs  laid  in  the  cliifs 
in  great  abundance. 

In  Nova  Zembla  they  found  no  beasts  but  bears 
and  foxes,  whereof  the  bears  gave  over  to  be  seen 
about  September,  and  the  foxes  began. 

Meat  will  keep  from  putrifying  longer  in  frosty 
weather,  than  at  other  times. 

In  Iceland  they  keep  fish,  by  exposing  it  to  the 
cold,  from  putrifying  without  salt. 

The  nature  of  man  endureth  the  colds  in  the 
countries  of  Scricfinnia,  Biarmia,  Lappia,  Iceland, 
Greenland  ;  and  that  not  by  perpetual  keeping  in 
stoves  in  the  winter  time,  as  they  do  in  Russia  : 
but  contrariwise,  their  chief  fairs  and  intercourse 
is  written  to  be  in  the  winter,  because  the  ice 
evens  and  levelleth  the  passages  of  waters, 
plashes,  &c. 

A  thaw  after  a  frost  doth  greatly  rot  and  mel 
low  the  ground. 

Extreme  cold  hurteth  the  eyes  and  causeth 
blindness  in  many  beasts,  as  is  reported. 

The  cold  maketh  any  solid  substance,  as  wood, 
stone,  metal,  put  to  the  flesh,  to  cleave  to  it,  and 
to  pull  the  flesh  after  it,  and  so  put  to  any  cloth 
that  is  moist. 


DE  GALORE  ET  FRIGORE. 


103 


Cold  maketh  the  pilage  of  beasts  more  thick 
and  long,  as  foxes  of  Muscovy,  sables,  &c. 

Cold  maketh  the  pilage  of  most  beasts  incline 
to  grayness  or  whiteness,  as  foxes,  bears,  and 
so  the  plumage  of  fowls ;  and  maketh  also  the 
crests  of  cocks  and  their  feet  white,  as  is  re 
ported. 

Extreme  cold  will  make  nails  leap  out  of  the 
walls,  and  out  of  locks,  and  the  like. 

Extreme  cold  maketh  leather  to  be  stiff  like 
horn. 

In  frosty  weather  the  stars  appear  clearest  and 
most  sparkling. 

In  the  change  from  frost  to  open  weather,  or 
from  open  weather  to  frosts,  commonly  great 
mists. 

In  extreme  colds  any  thing  never  so  little 
which  arresteth  the  air  maketli  it  to  congeal ;  as 
we  see  in  cobwebs  in  windows,  which  is  one  of 
the  least  and  weakest  threads  that  is,  and  yet 
drops  gather  about  it  like  chains  of  pearl. 

So  in  frosts,  the  inside  of  glass  windows  ga- 
thereth  a  dew;  Qu.  if  not  more  without. 

Qu.  Whether  the  sweating  of  marble  and  stones 
be  in  frost,  or  towards  rain. 

Oil  in  time  of  frost  gathereth  to  a  substance,  as 
of  tallow  ;  and  it  is  said  to  sparkle  some  time,  so 
as  it  giveth  a  light  in  the  dark. 

The  countries  which  lie  covered  with  snow 
have  a  hastier  maturation  of  all  grain  than  in 


other  countries,  all  being  within  three  months  or 
thereabouts. 

Qu.  It  is  said,  that  compositions  of  honey,  as 
mead,  do  ripen,  and  are  most  pleasant  in  the  great 
colds. 

The  frosts  with  us  are  casual,  and  not  tied  to 
any  months,  so  as  they  are  not  merely  caused  by 
the  recess  of  the  sun,  but  mixed  with  some  inferior 
causes.  In  the  inland  of  the  northern  countries, 
as  in  Russia,  the  weather  for  the  three  or  four 
months  of  November,  December,  January,  Feb 
ruary,  is  constant,  viz.  clear  and  perpetual  frost, 
without  snows  or  rains. 

There  is  nothing  in  our  region,  which,  by  ap 
proach  of  a  matter  hot,  will  not  take  heat  by  transi 
tion  or  excitation. 

There  is  nothing  hot  here  with  us  but  is  in  a 
kind  of  consumption,  if  it  carry  heat  in  itself;  for 
all  fired  things  are  ready  to  consume ;  chafed 
things  are  ready  to  fire ;  and  the  heat  of  men's 
bodies  needeth  aliment  to  restore. 

The  transition  of  heat  is  without  any  imparting 
of  substance,  and  yet  remaineth  after  the  body 
heated  is  withdrawn ;  for  it  is  not  like  smells, . 
for  they  leave  some  airs  or  parts;  not  like  light, 
for  that  abideth  not  when  the  first  body  is  re 
moved  ;  not  unlike  to  the  motion  of  the  loadstone, 
which  is  lent  without  adhesion  of  substance,  for 
if  the  iron  be  filed  where  it  was  rubbed,  yet  it 
will  draw  or  turn. 


LETTER  AND  DISCOURSE  TO  SIR  HENRY  SAVILL, 


TOUCHING 


HELPS  FOR  THE  INTELLECTUAL  POWERS. 


SIR, 

COMING  back  from  your  invitation  at  Eton, 
where  I  had  refreshed  myself  with  company 
which  I  loved,  I  fell  into  a  consideration  of  that 
part  of  policy  whereof  philosophy  speaketh  too 
much  and  laws  too  little  ;  and  that  is  of  education 
of  youth.  Whereupon  fixing  my  mind  a  while,  I 
found  straightways,  and  noted  even  in  the  dis 
courses  of  philosophers  which  are  so  large  in  this 
argument,  a  strange  silence  concerning  one  prin 
cipal  part  of  that  subject.  For  as  touching  the 
framing  and  seasoning  of  youth  to  moral  virtue, 
(as  tolerance  of  labours,  continency  from  plea 
sures,  obedience,  honour,  and  the  like,)  they  han 
dle  it ;  but  touching  the  improvement  and  helping 
of  the  intellectual  powers,  as  of  conceit,  memory, 
and  judgment,  they  say  nothing.  Whether  it 
were  that  they  thought  it  to  be  a  matter  wherein 
nature  only  prevailed  ;  or  that  they  intended  it  as 
referred  to  the  several  and  proper  arts  which  teach 
the  use  of  reason  and  speech.  But  for  the  former 
of  these  two  reasons,  howsoever  it  pleaseth  them 
to  distinguish  of  habits  and  powers,  the  experi 
ence  is  manifest  enough  that  the  motions  and  fa 
culties  of  the  wit  and  memory  may  be  not  only 
governed  and  guided  but  also  confirmed  and  en 
larged  by  custom  and  exercise  duly  applied.  As 
if  a  man  exercise  shooting,  he  shall  not  only  shoot 
nearer  the  mark  but  also  draw  a  stronger  bow. 
And  as  for  the  latter  of  comprehending  these  pre 
cepts  within  the  arts  of  logic  and  rhetoric,  if  it 
be  rightly  considered,  their  office  is  distinct  alto 
gether  from  this  point.  For  it  is  no  part  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  use  or  handling  of  an  instrument  to 
teach  how  to  whet  or  grind  the  instrument  to  give 
it  a  sharp  edge,  or  how  to  quench  it  or  otherwise 
whereby  to  give  it  a  stronger  temper.  Wherefore 
finding  this  part  of  knowledge  not  broken,  I  have 
but  "tanquam  aliud  agens"  entered  into  it,  and 
salute  you  with  it,  dedicating  it  after  the  ancient 
manner,  first  as  to  a  dear  friend  :  and  then  as  to 
an  apt  person;  for  as  much  as  you  have  both 
104 


place  to  practise  it,  and  judgment  and  leisure  to 
look  deeper  into  it,  than  I  have  done.  Herein 
you  must  call  to  mind  "Apicrov  /uv  v6uo.  Though 
the  argument  be  not  of  great  height  and  dignity, 
nevertheless  it  is  of  great  and  universal  use  ;  and 
yet  I  do  not  see  why,  to  consider  it  rightly,  that 
should  not  be  a  learning  of  height,  which  teach- 
eth  to  raise  the  highest  and  worthiest  part  of  the 
mind.  But  howsoever  that  be,  if  the  world  take 
any  light  and  use  by  this  writing,  I  will  the  gra- 
tulation  be  to  the  good  friendship  and  acquaint 
ance  between  us  two.  And  so  I  commend  you 
to  God's  divine  protection. 

A  DISCOURSE  TOUCHING  HELPS  FOR 
THE  INTELLECTUAL  POWERS. 

I  DID  ever  hold  it  for  an  insolent  and  unlucky 
saying,  «*  faber  quisque  fortunse  suau,"  except  it  be 
uttered  only  as  an  hortative  or  spur  to  correct  sloth. 
For  otherwise  if  it  be  believed  as  it  soundeth ; 
and  that  a  man  entereth  into  an  high  imagination 
that  he  can  compass  and  fathom  all  accidents  ; 
and  ascribeth  all  successes  to  his  drifts  and 
reaches,  and  the  contrary  to  his  errors  and  sleep- 
ings.  It  is  commonly  seen  that  the  evening  for 
tune  of  that  man  is  not  so  prosperous  as  of  him 
that  without  slackening  of  his  industry  attributed! 
much  to  felicity  and  providence  above  him.  But 
if  the  sentence  were  turned  to  this,  "  faber  quis 
que  ingenii  sui,"  it  were  somewhat  more  true 
and  much  more  profitable  ;  because  it  would  teach 
men  to  bend  themselves  to  reform  those  imperfec 
tions  in  themselves,  which  now  they  seek  but  to 
cover;  and  to  attain  those  virtues  and  good  parts, 
which  now  they  seek  but  to  have  only  in  show  and 
demonstration.  Yet  notwithstanding  every  man 
attempteth  to  be  of  the  first  trade  of  carpenters, 
and  few  bind  themselves  to  the  second  :  whereas 
nevertheless,  the  rising  in  fortune  seldom  amend- 
eth  the  mind  ;  but  on  the  other  side,  the  removing 
of  the  stondes  and  impediments  of  the  mind,  doth 


HELPS  FOR  THE  INTELLECTUAL  POWERS. 


105 


often  clear  the  passage  and  current  to  a  man's 
fortune.  But  certain  it  is,  whether  it  be  believed 
or  no,  that  as  the  most  excellent  of  metals,  gold, 
is  of  all  other  the  most  pliant,  and  most  endur 
ing  to  be  wrought :  so  of  all  living  and  breathing- 
substances,  the  perfectest  man  is  the  most  suscep 
tible  of  help,  improvement,  impression,  and  altera 
tion  ;  and  not  only  in  his  body,  but  in  his  mind  and 
spirit ;  and  there  again  not  only  in  his  appetite  and 
affection,  but  in  his  powers  of  wit  and  reason. 

For  as  to  the  body  of  man,  we  find  many  and 
strange  experiences,  how  nature  is  overwrought 
by  custom,  even  in  actions  that  seem  of  most  diffi 
culty  and  least  possible.  As  first  in  voluntary 
motion,  which  though  it  be  termed  voluntary,  yet 
the  highest  degrees  of  it  are  not  voluntary  ;  for  it 
is  in  my  power  and  will  to  run ;  but  to  run  faster 
than  according  to  my  lightness  or  disposition  of 
body,  is  not  in  my  power  nor  will.  We  see  the 
industry  and  practice  of  tumblers  and  funambulos 
what  effects  of  great  wonder  it  bringeth  the  body 
of  man  unto.  So  for  suffering  of  pain  and  dolour, 
which  is  thought  so  contrary  to  the  nature  of  man, 
there  is  much  example  of  penances  in  strict  orders 
of  superstition,  what  they  do  endure  such  as  may 
well  verify  the  report  of  the  Spartan  boys,  which 
were  wont  to  be  scourged  upon  the  altar  so  bitter 
ly  as  sometimes  they  died  of  it,  and  yet  were  never 
heard  to  complain.  And  to  pass  to  those  faculties 
which  are  reckoned  more  involuntary,  as  long  fast 
ing  and  abstinence,  and  the  contrary  extreme,  vora 
city.  The  leaving  and  forbearing  the  use  of  drink 
for  altogether,  the  enduring  vehement  cold  and 
the  like ;  there  have  not  wanted,  neither  do  want 
divers  examples  of  strange  victories  over  the  body 
in  every  of  these.  Nay,  in  respiration,  the  proof 
hath  been  of  some,  who,  by  continual  use  of  diving 
and  working  under  the  water,  have  brought  them 
selves  to  be  able  to  hold  their  breath  an  incredible 
time  ;  and  others  that  have  been  able,  without 
suffocation,  to  endure  the  stifling  breath  of  an 
oven  or  furnace,  so  heated  as,  though  it  did  not 
scald  nor  burn,  yet  it  was  many  degrees  too  hot 
for  any  man  not  made  to  it  to  breathe  or  take  in. 
And  some  impostors  and  counterfeits,  likewise, 
have  been  able  to  wreath  and  cast  their  bodies 
into  strange  forms  and  motions  :  yea,  and  others 
to  bring  themselves  into  trances  and  astonish 
ments.  All  which  examples  do  demonstrate  how 
variously,  and  how  to  high  points  and  degrees, 
the  body  of  man  maybe  (as  it  were)  moulded  and 
wrought.  And  if  any  man  conceive  that  it  is 
some  secret  propriety  of  nature  that  hath  been  in 
these  persons  which  have  attained  to  those  points, 
and  that  it  is  not  open  for  every  man  to  do  the  like, 
though  he  had  been  put  to  it ;  for  which  cause 
such  things  come  but  very  rarely  to  pass ;  it  is  true, 
no  doubt,  but  some  persons  ure  apter  than  others ; 
but  so  as  the  more  aptness  causeth  perfection,  but 
the  less  aptness  doth  not  disable ;  so  that,  for  ex 
ample,  the  more  apt  child,  that  is  taken  to  be 

VOL.  I 14 


made  a  funambulo,  will  prove  more  excellent  in 
his  feats;  but  the  less  apt  will  be  gregarius  fu 
nambulo  also.  And  there  is  small  question,  but 
that  these  abilities  would  have  been  more  common, 
and  others  of  like  sort  not  attempted  would  like 
wise  have  been  brought  upon  the  stage,  but  for 
two  reasons ;  the  one  because  of  men's  diffidence 
in  prejudging  them  as  impossibilities  ;  for  it  hold- 
eth  in  those  things  which  the  poet  saith,  "  pos- 
sunt  quia  posse  videntur ;"  for  no  man  shall  know 
how  much  may  be  done,  except  he  believe  much 
may  be  done,  The  other  reason  is,  because  they 
be  but  practices,  base  and  inglorious,  and  of  no 
great  use,  and  therefore  sequestered  from  reward 
of  value  ;  and  on  the  other  side,  painful ;  so  as 
the  recompense  balanceth  not  with  the  travel  and 
suffering.  And  as  to  the  will  of  man,  it  is  that 
which  is  most  maniable  and  obedient;  as  that 
which  admitteth  most  medicines  to  cure  and  alter 
it.  The  most  sovereign  of  all  is  religion,  which 
is  able  to  change  and  transform  it  in  the  deepest 
and  most  inward  inclinations  and  motions :  and 
next  to  that  is  opinion  and  apprehension ;  whether 
it  be  infused  by  tradition  and  institution,  or 
wrought  in  by  disputation  and  persuasion  :  and  the 
third  is  example,  which  transformeth  the  will  of 
man  into  the  similitude  of  that  which  is  most  ob 
servant  and  familiar  towards  it ;  and  the  fourth  is, 
when  one  affection  is  healed  and  corrected  by 
another ;  as  when  cowardice  is  remedied  by  shame 
and  dishonour,  or  sluggishness  and  backwardness 
by  indignation  and  emulation  ;  and  so  of  the  like ; 
and  lastly,  when  all  these  means,  or  any  of  them, 
have  new  framed  or  formed  human  will,  then  doth 
custom  and  habit  corroborate  and  confirm  all  the 
rest ;  therefore  it  is  no  marvel,  though  this  faculty 
of  the  mind  (of  will  and  election)  which  inclineth 
affection  and  appetite,  being  but  the  inceptions  and 
rudiments  of  will,  may  be  so  well  governed  and 
managed,  because  it  admitteth  access  to  so  divers 
remedies  to  be  applied  to  it  and  to  work  upon  it, 
the  effects  whereof  are  so  many  and  so  known  as 
require  no  enumeration ;  but  generally  they  do 
issue  as  medicines  do,  into  two  kinds  of  cures, 
whereof  the  one  is  a  just  or  true  cure,  and  the  other 
is  called  palliation  ;  for  either  the  labour  and  inten 
tion  is  to  reform  the  affections  really  and  truly,  re 
straining  them  if  they  be  too  violent,  and  raising 
them  if  they  be  too  soft  and  weak,  or  else  it  is  to 
cover  them ;  or  if  occasion  be,  to  pretend  them  and 
represent  them  :  of  the  former  sort  whereof  the  ex 
amples  are  plentiful  in  the  schools  of  philosophers, 
and  in  all  other  institutions  of  moral  virtue  ;  and 
of  the  other  sort,  the  examples  are  more  plentiful 
in  the  courts  of  princes,  and  in  all  politic  traf 
fic,  where  it  is  ordinary  to  find  not  only  profound 
dissimulations  and  suffocating  the  affections,  that 
no  note  or  mark  appear  of  them  outwardly,  but 
also  lively  simulations  arid  affectations,  carrying 
the  tokens  of  passions  which  are  not,  as  "risus 
jussus,"  and  "lachrymse  coactae,"  and  the  like  s 


106 


HELPS  FOR  THE  INTELLECTUAL  POWERS. 


OF  HELPS  OF  THE  INTELLECTUAL 
POWERS. 

THE  intellectual  powers  have  fewer  means  to 
work  upon  them  than  the  will  or  body  of  man;  hut 
the  one  that  prevaileth,  that  is  exercise,  worketh 
more  forcibly  in  them  than  in  the  rest. 

The  ancient  habit  of  the  philosophers  ;  "  Si  quis 
quserat,  in  utramque  partem,  de  omni  scibili." 

The  exercise  of  scholars  making  verses  extem 
pore;  "  Stans  pede  in  uno." 

The  exercise  of  lawyers  in  memory  narrative. 

The  exercise  of  sophists,  and  "  Jo.  ad  opposi- 
tum,"  with  manifest  effect. 

Artificial  memory  greatly  holpen  by  exercise. 

The  exercise  of  buffoons,  to  draw  all  things  to 
conceits  ridiculous. 

The  means  that  help  the  understanding  and 
faculties  thereof  are  : — 

(Not  example,  as  in  the  will,  by  conversation; 
and  here  the  conceit  of  imitation  already  digested, 
with  the  confutation,  "  Obiter,  si  videbitur,''  of 
Tully's  opinion,  advising  a  man  to  take  some  one 
to  imitate.  Similitude  effaces  analysed.) 

Arts,  Logic,  Rhetoric  :  The  ancients,  Aristotle, 
Plato,  Thesetetus,  Gorgias,litigiosus  vel  sophista, 
Protagoras,  Aristotle,  schola  sua.  Topics,  Elen- 
ches,  Rhetorics,  Organon,  Cicero,  Hermogenes. 
The  Neoterics,  Ramus,  Agricola.  Nil  sacri ;  Lul- 
lius,  his  Typocosmia,  studying  Cooper's  Diction 
ary;  Mattheus'  Collection  of  proper  words  for 
Metaphors ;  Agrippa  de  vanitate,  &c. 

Qu.  If  not  here  of  imitation. 

Collections  preparative.  Aristotle's  similitude 
of  a  shoemaker's  shop  full  of  shoes  of  all  sorts  ; 
Demosthenes  Exordia  concionum.  Tully's  pre 
cept,  of  Theses  of  all  sorts,  preparative. 

The  relying  upon  exercise,  with  the  difference  of 
using  and  tempering  the  instrument ;  and  the  simi 
litude  of  prescribing  against  the  laws  of  nature  and 
of  estate. 


FIVE  POINTS. 

1.  THAT  exercises  are  to  be  framed  to  the  life; 
that  is  to  say,  to  work  ability  in  that  kind  whereof 
a  man  in  the  course  of  action  shall  have  most  use. 

2.  The  indirect  and  oblique  exercises  which  do, 


'•«  per  partes"  and  "  per  consequential^"  enable 
these  faculties,  which  perhaps  direct  exercise  at 
first  would  but  distort:  and  these  have  chiefly 
place  where  the  faculty  is  weak,  not  "  per  se,"  but 
"per  accidens;"  as  if  want  of  memory  grow 
through  lightness  of  wit  and  want  of  stayed  atten 
tion,  then  the  mathematics  or  the  law  helpeth ; 
because  they  are  things  wherein  if  the  mind  once 
roam  it  cannot  recover. 

3.  Of  the  advantages  of  exercise;  as  to  dance 
witli  heavy  shoes,  to  march  with  heavy  armour  and 
carriage  ;  and  the  contrary  advantage  (in  natures 
very  dull  and  unapt)  of  working  alacrity  by  framing 
an  exercise  with  some  delight  or  affection ; 

"  Veltiti  pueris  dant  crustula  blamli 
Doctores,  elementa  velint  utdiscere  prima." 

4.  Of  the  cautions  of  exercise ;  as  to  beware, 
lest  by  evil  doing  (as  all  beginners  do  weakly) 
a  man  grow  not  and  be  inveterate  in  an  ill  habit ; 
and  so  take  not  the  advantage  of  custom  in  per 
fection,  but  in  confirming  ill.     Slubbering  on  the 
lute. 

5.  The  marshalling,  and  sequel  of  sciences  and 
practices  :  logic  and  rhetoric  should  be  used  to  be 
read  after  poesy,  history,  and  philosophy.     First, 
exercise  to  do  things  well  and  clean  :  after,  prompt 
ly  and  readily. 

The  exercises  in  the  universities  and  schools 
are  of  memory  and  invention  ;  either  to  speak  by 
tieart  that  which  is  set  down  verbatim,  or  to  speak 
extempore  ;  whereas,  there  is  little  use  in  action 
of  either  of  both  :  but  most  things  which  we  utter 
are  neither  verbally  premeditate,  nor  merely  ex- 
temporal  ;  therefore  exercise  would  be  framed  to 
take  a  little  breathing  and  to  consider  of  heads; 
and  then  to  fit  and  form  the  speech  extempore ; 
;his  would  be  done  in  two  manners,  both  with 
writing  and  tables,  and  without :  for  in  most  actions 
,t  is  permitted  and  passable  to  use  the  note ;  where- 
mto  if  a  man  be  not  accustomed  it  will  put  him 
out. 

There  is  no  use  of  a  narrative  memory  in  aca 
demies,  viz.  with  circumstances  of  times,  persons, 
and  places,  and  with. names  ;  and  it  is  one  art  to 
discourse,  and  another  to  relate  and  describe  ;  and 
icrein  use  and  action  is  most  conversant. 

Also  to  sum  up  and  contract  is  a  thing  in  action 
f  very  general  use. 


APOPHTHEGMS 


NEW  AND  OLD. 


A.D.  1625. 


JULIUS  CAESAR  did  write  a  collection  of  apophthegms,  as  appears  in  an  epistle  of  Cicero;  I  need 
say  no  more  for  the  worth  of  a  writing  of  that  nature.  It  is  pity  his  book  is  lost :  for  I  imagine  they 
were  collected  with  judgment  and  choice;  whereas  that  of  Plutarch  and  Stobaeus,  and  much  more 
the  modern  ones,  draw  much  of  the  dregs.  Certainly  they  are  of  excellent  use.  They  are  "mu- 
crones  verbomm,"  pointed  speeches.  Cicero  prettily  calleth  them  "  salinas,"  salt  pits,  that  you  may 
extract  salt  out  of,  and  sprinkle  it  where  you  will.  They  serve  to  be  interlaced  in  continued  speech. 
They  serve  to  be  recited  upon  occasion  of  themselves.  They  serve,  if  you  take  out  the  kernel  of 
them  and  make  them  your  own.  I  have,  for  my  recreation,  in  my  sickness,  fanned  the  old,  not  omit 
ting  any,  because  they  are  vulgar,  for  many  vulgar  ones  are  excellent  good;  nor  for  the  meanness  of 
the  person,  but  because  they  are  dull  and  flat;  and  adding  many  new,  that  otherwise  would  have  died. 


1.  WHEN    Queen    Elizabeth    had    advanced 
Raleigh,  she  was  one  day  playing  on  the  virgi 
nals,  and  my  Lo.  of  Oxford  and  another  nobleman 
stood  by.     It  fell  out  so,  that  the  ledge  before  the 
jacks  was  taken  away,  so  as  the  jacks  were  seen : 
my  Lo.  of  Oxford  and  the  other  nobleman  smiled, 
and  a  little  whispered.     The  queen  marked  it,  and 
would  needs  know  what  the  matter  was]     My 
Lo.  of  Oxford  answered  :  "That  they  smiled  to 
see  that  when  jacks  went  up,  heads  went  down." 

2.  Henry  the  Fourth  of  France  his  queen  was 
great  with  child;  Count  Soissons,  that  had  his 
expectation  upon  the  crown,  when  it  was  twice 
or  thrice  thought  that  the  queen  was  with  child 
before,  said  to  some  of  his  friends,  "  That  it  was 
but  with  a  pillow."     This  had  someway s  come 
to  the  king's  ear ;  who  kept  it  till  when  the  queen 
waxed  great :  called  the  Count  of  Soissons  to  him, 
and  said,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  queen's  belly; 
"  Come,  cousin,  it  is  no  pillow  !" — "  Yes,  sir," 
answered  the  Count  of  Soissons,  "it  is  a  pillow 
for  all  France  to  sleep  upon." 

3.  There  was  a  conference  in  parliament   be 
tween  the  Upper  House  and  the  Lower,  about  a 
bill  of  accountants,  which  came  down  from  the 
Lords  to  the  Commons;  which  bill  prayed,  That 
the  lands   of   accountants,   whereof   they   were 
seized  when  they  entered  upon  their  office,  mought 
be  liable  to  their  arrears  to  the  queen ;  but  the  Com 
mons  desired  that  the  bill  mought  not  look  back 


to  accountants  that  were  already,  but  extend  only 
to  accountants  hereafter.  But  the  lo.  treasurer  said, 
"  Why,  I  pray  you,  if  you  had  lost  your  purse  by 
the  way,  would  you  look  forwards,  or  would  you 
look  back  ?  The  queen  hath  lost  her  purse." 

4.  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  morrow  of  her  corona 
tion,  went  to  the  chapel ;  and  in  the  great  cham 
ber,  Sir  John  Rainsford,  set  on  by  wiser  men,  (a 
knight  that  had  the  liberty  of  a  buffoon,)  besought 
the   queen  aloud;    "That  now  this   good  time, 
when  prisoners  were  delivered,  four  prisoners, 
amongst  the  rest,  mought  likewise  have   their 
liberty  who  were  like  enough  to  be  kept  still  in 
hold."     The  queen  asked;  "Who  they  were?" 
And  he  said ;  "  Matthew,  Mark,  Luke,  and  John, 
who   had    long    been  imprisoned   in  the   Latin 
tongue ;   and   now  he   desired   they  mought  go 
abroad   among    the  people  in   English."     The 
queen  answered,  with  a  grave  countenance;  "It 
were  good    (Rainsford)   they  were  spoken  with 
themselves,  to  know  of  them  whether  they  would 
be  set  at  liberty1?" 

5.  The  lo.  keeper,  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  was 
asked  his  opinion  by  Queen  Elizabeth  of  one  of 
these    monopoly  licences  ?     And    he    answered 
"  Will    JTOU    have    me    speak    truth,    madam  1 
'  Licentia  omnes  deteriores  sumus ;'  "  We  are  all 
the  worse  for  a  licence. 

6.  Pace,  the  bitter  fool,  was  not  suffered  to 
come  at  the  queen,  because  of  his  bitter  humour 

107 


108 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


Yet  at  one  time,  some  persuaded  the  queen  that 
he  should  come  to  her;  undertaking  for  him,  that 
he  should  keep  compass :  so  he  was  brought  to 
her,  and  the  queen  said :  "  Come  on,  Pace ;  now 
we  shall  hear  of  our  faults."  Saith  Pace ;  "  I  do 
not  use  to  talk  of  that  that  all  the  town  talks  on." 

7.  My  Lo.  of  Essex,  at  the  succour  of  Rhoan, 
made  twenty-four  knights,  which  at  that  time  was 
a  great  matter.     Divers  of  those  gentlemen  were 
of  weak  and  small  means ;  which  when  Queen 
Elizabeth  heard,  she  said,  "  My  lo.  mought  have 
done  well  to  have  built  his  almshouse,  before  he 
made  his  knights." 

8.  A  great  officer  in  France  was  in  danger  to 
have  lost  his  place ;  but  his  wife,  by  her  suit  and 
means  making,  made   his   peace ;    whereupon  a 
pleasant  fellow  said,  "  That  he  had  been  crushed, 
but  that  he  saved  himself  upon  his  horns." 

9.  Queen  Ann  Bullen,  at  the  time  when  she 
was  led  to  be  beheaded  in  the  Tower,  called  one 
of  the  king's  privy  chamber  to  her,  and  said  to 
him,  "  Commend  me  to  the  king,  and  tell  him,  he 
is  constant  in  his  course  of  advancing  me ;  from 
a  private  gentlewoman  he  made  me  a  marquisse, 
and  from  a  marquisse  a  queen ;  and  now,  he  had 
left  no  higher  degree  of  earthly  honour,  he  hath 
made  me  a  martyr." 

10.  Bishop  Latimer  said,  in  a  sermon  at  court, 
"  That  he  heard  great  speech  that  the  king  was 
poor;  and  many  ways  were  propounded  to  make 
him  rich;  for  his  part  he  had  thought  of  one  way, 
which  was  th.it  they  should  help  the  king  to  some 
good  office,  for  all  his  officers  were  rich." 

11.  Caesar  Borgia,  after  long  division  between 
him  and  the  lords  of  Romagna,  fell  to  accord  with 
them.     In  this  accord  there  was  an  article,  that 
he  should  not  call  them  at  any  time  all  together 
in  person.     The  meaning  was,  that  knowing  his 
dangerous  nature,  if  he  meant  them  treason,  some 
one  mought  be  free  to  revenge  the  rest.     Never 
theless,  he  did  with  such  fine  art  and  fair  carriage 
win  their  confidence,  that  he  brought  them  alto 
gether  to  council  at  Cinigaglia;  where  he  mur 
dered  them  all.     This  act,  when  it  was  related 
unto  Pope  Alexander,  his  father,  by  a  cardinal,  as 
a  thing  happy,  but  very  perfidious ;  the  pope  said, 
"It  was  they  that  had  broke  their  covenant  first, 
in  coming  all  together." 

12.  Pope  Julius  the  Third,  when  he  was  made 
pope,  gave  his  hat  unto  a  youth,  a  favourite  of  his, 
with  great  scandal.     Whereupon,  at  one  time,  a 
cardinal    that  mought  be   free   with   him,   said 
modestly  to  him,  "  What  did  your  holiness  see  in 
that  young  man,  to  make  him  cardinal  T'     Julius 
answered,  "  What  did  you  see  in  me  to  make  me 
pope]" 

13.  The  same  Julius,  upon  like  occasion  of 
speech,  Why  he  should  bear  so  great  affection  to 
the  same  young  man!  would  say,  "that  he  had 
found  by  astrology  that  it  was  the  youth's  des 
tiny  to  be  a  great  prelate ;  which  was  impossible 


except  himself  were  pope.  And  therefore  that 
he  did  raise  him,  as  the  driver  on  of  his  own  for 
tune." 

14.  Sir  Thomas  More  had  only  daughters  at 
the  first,  and  his  wife  did  ever  pray  for  a  boy. 
At  last  he  had  a  boy,  which  after,  at  man's  years, 
proved  simple.     Sir  Thomas  said  to  his  wife, 
"Thou  prayedst  so  long  for  a  boy,  that  he  will 
be  a  boy  as  long  as  he  lives." 

15.  Sir  Thomas  More,  the  day  that  he  was  be 
headed,  had  a  barber  sent  to  him,  because  his  hair 
was  long;  which  was  thought  would  make  him 
more  commiserated  with  the  people.     The  barber 
came  to  him,  and  asked  him,  "  Whether  he  would 
be  pleased  to  be   trimmed  ?"     "  In   good  faith, 
honest  fellow,"  said  Sir  Thomas,  "  the  king  and 
I  have  a  suit  for  my  head,  and  till  the  title  be 
cleared,  I  will  do  no  cost  upon  it." 

16.  Stephen  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
a  great  champion  of  the  Papists,  was  wont  to 
say   of  the   Protestants   who   ground   upon  the 
Scripture,  "  That  they  were  like  posts,  that  bring 
truth  in  their  letters,  and  lies  in  their  mouths." 

17.  The  Lacedaemonians  were  besieged  by  the 
Athenians  in  the  Port  of  Pellae,  which  was  won, 
and  some  slain,  and  some  taken.    There  was  one 
said  to  one  of  them  that  was  taken,  by  way  of 
scorn,  "  Were  not  they  brave  men  that  lost  their 
lives   at  the   Port  of  Pellae  ]"     He   answered, 
"  Certainly  a  Persian  arrow  is  much  to  be  set  by, 
if  it  can  choose  out  a  brave  man." 

18.  After  the  defeat  of  Cyrus  the  younger,  Fa- 
linus  was  sent  by  the  king  to  the  Grecians,  who 
had  for  their  part  rather  victory  than  otherwise, 
to  command  them   to  yield  their  arms ;   which 
when  it  was  denied,  Falinus  said  to  Clearchus ; 
"  Well  then,  the  king  lets  you  know,  that  if  you 
remove  from  the  place  where  you  are  now  en 
camped,  it  is  war :  if  you  stay,  it  is  truce.    What 
shall  I  say  you  will  do  T'     Clearchus  answered, 
"  It  pleaseth  us,  as  it  pleaseth  the  king."  "  How 
is  that1?"  said  Falinus.    Saith  Clearchus,  "If  we 
remove,  war:  if  we  stay,  truce  :"  and  so  would 
not  disclose  his  purpose. 

19.  Clodius  was  acquitted  by  a  corrupt  jury, 
that  had  palpably  taken  shares  of  money :  before 
they  gave  up  their  verdict,  they  prayed  of  the 
senate  a  guard,  that  they  might  do  their  con 
sciences  freely,  for  that  Clodius  was  a  very  sedi 
tious  young  nobleman.  Whereupon  all  the  world 
gave  him  for  condemned.     But  acquitted  he  was. 
Catulus,  the  next  day  seeing  some  of  them  that 
had  acquitted  him  together,  said  to  them  ;  "  WThat 
made  you  to  ask  of  us  a  guard  ]  Were  you  afraid 
your  money  should  have  been  taken  from  you1?" 

20.  At  the  same  judgment,  Cicero  gave  in  evi 
dence  upon  oath:  and  the  jury,  which  consisted 
of  fifty-seven,  passed  against  his  evidence.     One 
day  in  the  senate  Cicero  and  Clodius  being  in 
altercation,   Clodius    upbraided   him    and    said, 
"  The  jury  gave  you  no  credit."     Cicero  an- 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


109 


swered,  " Five-and-twenty  gave  me  credit:  but 
there  were  two-and-thirty  that  gave  you  no  credit, 
for  they  had  their  money  beforehand." 

21.  Many  men,  especially  such  as  affect  gra 
vity,  have  a  manner  after  other  men's  speech  to 
shake  their  heads.     Sir  Lionel  Cranfield  would 
say,  "It  was  as  men  shake  a  bottle,  to  see  if 
there  were  any  wit  in  their  head  or  no  1" 

22.  Sir  Thomas  More,  who  was  a  man  in  all 
his  lifetime  that  had  an  excellent  vein  in  jesting, 
at  the  very  instant  of  his  death,  having  a  pretty 
long  beard,  after  his  head  was  upon  the  block, 
lift  it  up  again,  and  gently  drew  his  beard  aside, 
and  said,  "This  hath  not  offended  the  king." 

23.  Sir  Thomas  More  had  sent  him  by  a  suitor 
in  chancery  two  silver  flagons.    When  they  were 
presented  by  the  gentleman's  servant,  he  said  to 
one  of  his  men,  "  Have  him  to  the  cellar,  and  let 
him  have  of  my  best  wine  :"  and,  turning  to  the 
servant,  said,  "  Tell  thy  master,  friend,  if  he  like 
it,  let  him  not  spare  it." 

24.  Diogenes,  having  seen  that  the  kingdom 
of  Macedon,  which  before  was  contemptible  and 
low,  began  to  come  aloft  when  he  died,  was  asked 
how  he  would  be  buried  ?    He  answered,  "  With 
my  face  downwards ;  for  within  a  while  the  world 
will  be  turned  upside  down,  and  then  I  shall  lie 
right." 

25.  Cato  the  elder  was  wont  to  say ;  that  the 
Romans  were  like  sheep  ;  a  man  were  better  drive 
a  flock  of  them,  than  one  of  them. 

26.  Themistocles  in  his  lower  fortune  was  in 
love  with  a  young  gentleman  who  scorned  him ; 
when  he  grew  to  his  greatness,  which  was  soon 
after,  he  sought  to  him :  Themistocles  said,  "  We 
are  both  grown  wise,  but  too  late." 

27.  Demonax  the  philosopher,  when  he  died, 
was  asked  touching  his  burial.     He  answered, 
"  Never  take  care  for  burying  me,  for  stink  wil] 
bury  me."  He  that  asked  him  said  again:  "\Vhy, 
would  you  have  your  body  left  to  dogs  and  ravens 
to  feed  upon  1"  Demonax  answered,  "Why,wha 
great  hurt  is  it,  if  having  sought  to  do  good,  when 
I  lived,  to  men;  my  body  do  some  good  to  beasts 
when  I  am  dead." 

28.  Jack  Roberts  was   desired  by  his  tailor 
when  the  reckoning  grew  somewhat  high,  to  have 
a  bill  of  his  hand.     Roberts  said,  "I  am  content 
but  you  must  let  no  man  know  it."     When  the 
tailor  brought  him  the  bill,  he  tore  it  as  in  choler 
and  said  to  him,  "  You  use  me  not  well ;   you 
promised  me  nobody  should  know  it,  and  here 
you  have  put  in,  '  Be  it  known  unto  all  men  by 
these  presents.' " 

29.  When  Lycurgus  was  to  reform  and  alte 
the  state  of  Sparta;  in  the  consultation  one  ad 
vised,  that  it  should  be  reduced  to  one  absolute 
popular   equality:    but   Lycurgus   said   to   him 
"  Sir,  begin  it  in  your  own  house." 

30.  Phocion,  the  Athenian,   a  man   of  grea 
severity,  and  noways  flexible  to  the  will  of  th 


eople,  one  day,  when  he  spake  to  the  people,  in 
ne  part  of  his  speech,  was  applauded  :  where 
upon  he  turned  to  one  of  his  friends,  and  asked, 
* What  have  I  said  amiss  V* 

31.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  was  wont  to  say  of  the 
adies  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  privy-chamber  and 
)ed-chamber,  "  that  they  were  like  witches,  they 
;ould  do  hurt,  but  they  could  do  no  good." 

32.  Bion,  that  was  an  atheist,  was  showed  in 
a  port  city,  in  a  temple  of  Neptune,  many  tables 

f  pictures,  of  such  as  had  in  tempests  made  their 
rows  to  Neptune,  and  were  saved  from  shipwreck : 
and  was  asked,  "How  say  you  now!  Do  you 
lot  acknowledge  the  power  of  the  gods?"  But 
said,  "  Yes,  but  where  are  they  painted  that 
lave  been  drowned  after  their  vows  ]" 

33.  Bias  was  sailing,  and  there  fell  out  a  great 
.empest ;  and  the  mariners,  that  were  wicked  and 
dissolute  fellows,  called  upon  the  gods ;  but  Bias 
said  to  them,  "  Peace,  let  them  not  know  you  are 
here." 

34.  Bion  was  wont  to  say;   "That  Socrates, 
of  all  the  lovers  of  Alcibiades,  only  held  him  by 
the  ears." 

35.  There  was  a  minister  deprived  for  incon- 
formity,  who  said  to  some  of  his  friends,  "That 
if  they  deprived  him,  it  should  cost  an  hundred 
nen's  lives."     The  party  understood  it,  as  if, 
being  a  turbulent  fellow,  he  would  have  moved 
sedition,   and   complained   of   him;    whereupon 
being  convented  and  apposed  upon  that  speech, 
tie  said  his  meaning  was,  "That  if  he  lost  his 
benefice,  he  would  practise  physic,  and  then  he 
thought  he  should  kill  an  hundred  men  in  time." 

36.  Michael  Angelo,  the  famous  painter,  paint 
ing  in  the  pope's  chapel  the  portraiture  of  hell  and 
damned  souls,  made  one  of  the  damned  souls  so 
like  a  cardinal  that  was  his  enemy,  as  everybody 
at  first  sight  knew  it.     Whereupon  the  cardinal 
complained  to  Pope  Clement,  desiring  it  might 
be  defaced  ;  who  said  to  him,  "  Why,  you  know 
very  well,  I  have  power  to  deliver  a  soul  out  of 
purgatory,  but  not  out  of  hell." 

37.  There  was  a  philosopher  about  Tiberius, 
that  looking  into  the  nature  of  Caius,  said  of  him ; 
"  that  he  was  mire  and  mingled  with  blood." 

38.  Alcibiades  came  to  Pericles,  and  stayed  a 
while  ere  he  was  admitted.     When  he  came  in, 
Pericles   civilly  excused   it,  and  said;   "I  was 
studying  how  to  give  my  account."     But  Alci 
biades  said  to  him,  "  If  you  will  be  ruled  by  me, 
study  rather  how  to  give  no  account." 

39.  Cicero  was  at  dinner,  where  there  was  an 
ancient  lady  that  spake  of  her  years,  and  said, 
"she  was  but  forty  years  old."      One  that  sat 
by  Cicero  rounded  him   in   the   ear,   and  said ; 
"  She  talks  of  forty  years   old ;  and  she  is  far 
more,  out  of  question."      Cicero  answered  him 
again  ;  "  I  must  believe  her,  for  I  have  heard  her 
say  so  any  time  these  ten  years." 

40.  Pope  Adrian  the  Sixth  was  talking  with 

K 


110 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


the  Duke  of  Sesa,  "that  Pasquil  gave  great  scan 
dal,  and  that  he  would  have  him  thrown  into 
the  river:"  but  Sesa  answered,  "Do  it  not,  holy 
father,  for  then  he  will  turn  frog ;  and  whereas 
now  he  chants  but  by  day,  he  will  then  chant 
both  by  day  and  night." 

41.  There  was  a  soldier  that  vaunted  before 
Julius  Caesar  of  hurts  he  had  received  in  his  face. 
Julius  Caesar  knowing  him  to  be  but  a  coward, 
told  him ;  "  You  were  best  take  heed  next  time 
you  run  away,  how  you  look  back." 

42.  There  was  a  bishop  that  was  somewhat  a 
delicate  person,  and  bathed  twice  a  day.     A  friend 
of  his  said  to  him  ;  "  My  lord,  why  do  you  bathe 
twice  a  day?"  The  bishop  answered  ;  "  Because 
I  cannot  conveniently  bathe  thrice." 

43.  Mendoza  that  was  viceroy  of  Peru,  \vas 
wont  to  say,  "  that  the  government  of  Peru  was 
the  best  place  that  the  King  of  Spain  gave,  save 
that  it  was  somewhat  too  near  Madrid." 

44.  Secretary  Bourn's  son  kept  a  gentleman's 
wife  in  Shropshire,  who  lived  from  her  husband, 
with  him :  when  he  was  weary  of  her,  he  caused 
her  husband  to  be  dealt  with  to  take  her  home, 
and  offered  him  five  hundred  pounds  for  repara 
tion  ;  the  gentleman  went  to  Sir  H.  Sidney  to 
take  his  advice  upon  this  offer,  telling  him,  "  that 
his  wife  promised  now  a  new  life  ;  and,  to  tell 
him  truth,  five  hundred  pounds  would  come  well 
with  him  ;  and  besides,  that  sometimes  he  wanted 
a  woman  in  his  bed."     "  By  my  troth,"  said  Sir 
Henry  Sidney,  "take  her  home,  and  take  the  mo 
ney  :  and  then  whereas  other  cuckolds  wear  their 
horns  plain,  you  may  wear  yours  gilt." 

45.  There  was  a  gentleman  in  Italy  that  wrote 
to  a  great  friend  of  his  upon  his  advancement  to 
be  cardinal,  that  he  was  very  glad  of  his  advance 
ment,  for  the  cardinal's  own  sake;  but  he  was 
sorry  that  himself  had  lost  so  good  a  friend. 

4G.  When  Rabelais  lay  on  his  death-bed,  and 
they  gave  him  the  extreme  unction,  a  familiar 
friend  of  his  came  to  him  afterwards,  and  asked 
him  how  he  did  1  Rabelais  answered,  "  Even 
going  my  journey,  they  have  greased  my  boots 
already." 

47.  There  was  a  king  of  Hungary  took  a  bishop 
in  battle,  and  kept  him  prisoner  :  whereupon  the 
pope  writ  a  monitory  to  him,  for  that  he  had  broke 
the  privilege  of  holy  church,  and  taken  his  son. 
The  king  sent  an  embassage  to  him,  and  sent 
withal  the  armour  wherein  the  bishop  wras  taken, 
and  this  only  in  writing,  "  Vide  num  hsec  sit 
vestis  filii  tui :" 

48.  There  was  a  suitor  to  Vespasian,  who,  to 
lay  his  suit  fairer,  said  it  was  for  his  brother; 
whereas   indeed  it  was   for  a  piece   of  money. 
Some   about  Vespasian,  to   cross   him,  told  the 
emperor  that  the  party  his  servant  spoke  for,  was 
not  his  brother ;  but  that  it  was  upon  a  bargain. 
Vespasian  sent  for  the  party  interested,  and  asked 
nim ;    "  Whether  his  mean  was   his  brother  or 


no  1"  He  durst  not  tell  untruth  to  the  emperor, 
and  confessed  that  he  was  not  his  brother. 
Whereupon  the  emperor  said,  "This  do,  fetch 
me  the  money,  and  you  shall  have  your  suit  de 
spatched."  Which  he  did.  The  courtier,  which 
was  the  mean,  solicited  Vespasian  soon  after 
about  his  suit:  "  W'hy,"  saith  Vespasian,  "I 
gave  it  last  day  to  a  brother  of  mine." 

49.  When  Vespasian  passed   from   Jewry  to 
take  upon  him  the  empire,  he  went  by  Alexandria, 
where  remained  two  famous  philosophers,  Appol- 
lonius  and    Euphrates.     The  emperor  heard  the 
discourse,  touching  matter  of  state,  in  the  presence 
of  many.     And  when  he  was  weary  of  them,  he 
brake  off,  and  in  a  secret  derision,  finding  their 
discourses  but  speculative,  and  not  to  be  put  in 
practice,  said,  "  O  that  I  might  govern  wise  men, 
and  wise  men  govern  me." 

50.  Cardinal  Ximenes,  upon  a  muster,  wrhich 
was  taken  against  the  Moors,  was  spoken  to  by 
a  servant  of  his  to  stand  a  little  out  of  the  smoke 
of  the  harquebuss  ;  but  he  said  again,  "  That  that 
was  his  incense." 

51.  Vespasian  asked  of  Apollonius,  what  was 
the  cause  of  Nero's  ruin  1  Who  answered,  "  Nero 
could  tune  the  harp  well,  but  in  government  he 
did  always  wind  up  the  strings  too  high,  or  let 
them  down  too  low." 

52.  Mr.  Bromley,  solicitor,  giving  in  evidence 
for  a  deed,  which  was  impeached  to  be  fraudulent, 
was  urged  by  the  counsel  on  the  other  side  with 
this  presumption,  that  in  two  former  suits,  when 
title  was  made,  that   deed  was  passed   over   in 
silence,  and  some  other  conveyance  stood  upon. 
Mr.   Justice   Catline   taking  in  with   that  side, 
asked  the  solicitor,  "I  pray  thee,  Mr.  Solicitor, 
let  me  ask  you  a  familiar  question ;  I  have  two 
geldings  in  my  stable,  and  I  have  divers  times 
business  of  importance,  and  still  I  send  forth  one 
of  my  geldings,  and  not  the  other;    would  you 
not  think  I  set  him  aside  for  a  jade "?"     "  No,  my 
lord,"  said  Bromley,  "I  would  think  you  spared 
him  for  your  own  saddle." 

53.  Alonso  Cartilio  was  informed  by  his  steward 
of  the  greatness  of  his  expense,  being  such  as  he 
could  not  hold  out  writh.     The  bishop  asked  him 
wherein  it  chiefly  arose  1     His  steward  told  him, 
in  the  multitude  of  his  servants.    The  bishop  bade 
him  make  a  note  of  those  that  were  necessary, 
and  those  that  mought  be  spared.     Which  he  did. 
And  the  bishop  taking  occasion  to  read  it  before 
most  of  his  servants,  said  to  his  steward,  "WTell, 
let  these  remain  because  I  need  them ;  and  these 
other  also  because  they  have  need  of  me." 

54.  Queen  Elizabeth  was  wont  to  say,  upon  the 
commission  of  sales,  "That  the  commissioners 
used  her  like  strawberry  wives,  that  laid  two  or 
three  great  strawberries  at  the  mouth  of  their  pot, 
and  all  the  rest  were  little  ones ;  so  they  made  her 
two  or  three  good  prizes  of  the  first  particulars, 
but  fell  straightways." 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


Ill 


55.  Queen  Elizabeth  was  wont  to  say  of  her 
instructions  to  great  officers,  "  That  they  were  like 
to  garments,  strait  at  the  first  putting  on,  but  did 
oy  and  by  wear  loose  enough." 

56.  Mr.  Marbury  the  preacher  would  say,  "That 
God  was  fain  to  do  with  wicked  men,  as  men  do 
with  frisking  jades  in  a  pasture,  that  cannot  take 
them  up,  till  they  get  them  at  a  gate.     So  wicked 
men  will  not  be  taken  up  till  the  hour  of  death." 

57.  Thales,  as  he  looked  upon  the  stars,  fell 
into  the  water ;  whereupon  it  was  after  said,  "  That 
if  he  had  looked  into  the  water  he  might  have  seen 
the  stars,  but  looking  up  to  the  stars  he  could  not 
see  the  water." 

58.  The  book  of  deposing  King  Richard  the  Se 
cond,  and  the  coining  in  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  sup 
posed  to  be  written  by  Doctor  Hay  ward,  who  was 
committed  to  the  Tower  for  it,  had  much  incensed 
Queen   Elizabeth ;   and   she   asked   Mr.   Bacon, 
being  then  of  her  learned   counsel,    "Whether 
there  was  any  treason  contained   in   if?"     Mr. 
Bacon  intending  to  do  him  a  pleasure,  and  to  take 
off  the  queen's  bitterness  with  a  merry  conceit, 
answered,    "  No,  madam,   for  treason   I   cannot 
deliver  opinion  that  there  is  any,  but  very  much 
felony."      The   queen,   apprehending  it   gladly, 
asked,  "How]  and  wherein  1"     Mr.  Bacon  an 
swered,  "  Because  he  had  stolen  many  of  his  sen 
tences  and  conceits  out  of  Cornelius  Tacitus." 

59.  Mr.  Pop  ham,  when  he  was  speaker,  and 
the  Lower  House  had  sat  long,  and  done  in  effect 
nothing ;  coming  one  day  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  she 
said  to  him ;  "  Now,  Mr.  Speaker,  what  hath  pass 
ed  in  the  Lower   House  I"     He  answered,  "If 
it  please  your  majesty,  seven  weeks." 

60.  Pope   Sixtus  the   Fifth,  who  was  a  poor 
man's  son,  and  his  father's  house  ill  thatched,  so 
that  the  sun  came  in  in  many  places,  would  sport 
with  his  ignobility,  and  say,  "  He  was  '  nato  di 
casa  illustre  :'  son  of  an  illustrious  house." 

61.  When  the  King  of  Spain  conquered  Portu 
gal,  he  gave  special  charge  to  his  lieutenant,  that 
the  soldiers  should  not  spoil,  lest  he  should  alien 
ate  the  hearts  of  the  people :  the  army  also  suf 
fered  much  scarcity  of  victual.     Whereupon  the 
Spanish   soldiers   would   afterwards   say,   "that 
they  had  won  the  king  a  kingdom,  as  the  king 
dom  of  heaven  used  to  be  won :  by  fasting  and 
abstaining  from  that  that  is  another  man's." 

62.  Cicero  married  his  daughter  to  Dolabella 
that  held    Caesar's  party:    Pompey  had  married 
Julia,  that  was  Caesar's  daughter.     After,  when 
Caesar  and   Pompey  took  arms  one  against  the 
other,  and   Pompey  had  passed   the   seas,  and 
Caesar  possessed  Italy,  Cicero  stayed  somewhat 
long  in  Italy,  but  at  last  sailed  over  to  join  with 
Pompey ;  who  when  he  came  unto  him,  Pompey 
said,  "  You  are  welcome,  but  where  left  you  your 
son-in-law ?"      Cicero   answered,   "With    your 
father-in-law." 

63.  Nero  was  wont  to  say  of  his  master  Seneca, 


"  That  his  style  was  like  mortar  of  sand  without 
lime." 

64.  Sir  Henry  Wotton  used   to  say,   "That 
critics  are  like  brushers  of  noblemen's  clothes." 

65.  Queen  Elizabeth  being  to  resolve  upon  a 
great  officer,  and  being  by  some,  that  canvassed 
for  others,  put  in  some  doubt  of  that  person  whom 
she  meant  to  advance,  called  for  Mr.  Bacon,  and 
told  him,  "  She  was  like  one  with  a  lantern  seek 
ing  a  man ;"  and  seemed  unsatisfied  in  the  choice 
she  had  of  men  for  that  place.     Mr.  Bacon  an 
swered  her,  "  That  he  had  heard  that  in  old  time 
there  was  usually  painted  on  the  church  walls  the 
day  of  doom,  and  God  sitting  in  judgment,  and 
St.  Michael  by  him  with  a  pair  of  balances ;  and 
the  soul  and  the  good  deeds  in  the  one  balance, 
and  the  faults  and  the  evil  deeds  in  the  other :  and 
the  soul's  balance  went  up  far  too  light.     Then 
was  our  lady  painted  with  a  great  pair  of  beads, 
who  cast  them  into  the  light  balance,  and  brought 
down  the  scale :  so,  he  said,  place  and  authority, 
which  were  in  her  hands  to  give,  were  like  our 
lady's  beads,  which  though  men,  through  divers 
imperfections,  were   too  light  before,  yet  when 
they  were  cast  in,  made  weight  competent." 

66.  Mr.  Savill  was  asked  by  my  Lord  of  Essex 
his  opinion  touching  poets.     Who  answered  my 
lord  ;  "that  he  thought  them  the  best  writers,  next 
to  those  that  writ  prose." 

67.  Mr.  Mason  of  Trinity   College   sent  his 
pupil  to  another  of  the  fellows,  to  borrow  a  book 
of  him,  who  told  him,  "  I  am  loath  to  lend  my 
books  out  of  my  chamber,  but  if  it  please  thy  tutor 
to  come  and  read  upon  it  in  my  chamber  he  shall 
as  long  as  he  will."     It  was  winter,  and  some  days 
after  the  same  fellow  sent  to  Mr.  Mason  to  borrow 
his  bellows  ;  but  Mr.  Mason   said  to  his  pupil, 
"  I  am  loath  to  lend  my  bellows'out  of  rny  chamber, 
but  if  thy  tutor  would  come  and  blow  the  fire  in 
my  chamber  he  shall  as  long  as  he  will." 

68.  Nero  did  cut  a  youth,  as  if  he  would  have 
transformed  him  into  a  woman,  and  called  him 
wife  ;    there  was  a  senator  of  Rome   that  said 
secretly  to  his  friend,    "  It  was   a  pity   Nero's 
father  had  not  such  a  wife." 

69.  Galba  succeeded  Nero,  and  his  age  being 
much  despised,  there  was  much  license  and  con 
fusion  in  Rome;  whereupon  a  senator  said  in  full 
senate,    "  It  were  better  live  where   nothing  is 
lawful,  than  where  all  things  are  lawful." 

70.  In  Flanders,  by  accident  a  Flemish  tiler  fell 
from  the  top  of  a  house  upon  a  Spaniard,  and 
killed  him,  though  he  escaped  himself;  the  next 
of  the  blood  prosecuted  his  death  with  great  vio 
lence,  and  when  he  was  offered  pecuniary  recom 
pense,  nothing  would  serve  him  but  "  lex  talio- 
nis;"  whereupon  the  judge  said  to  him,  "  that  if 
he  did  urge  that  kind  of  sentence,  it  must  be,  that 
he  should  go  up  to  the  top  of  the  house,  and  then~ 
fall  down  upon  the  tiler." 

71.  Queen  Elizabeth  was  dilatory  enough  in 


112 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


suits,  of  her  own  nature  ;  and  the  Lord  Treasurer 
Burleigh,  to  feed  her  humour,  would  say  to  her, 
"  Madam,  you  do  well  to  let  suitors  stay  ;  for  I 
shall  tell  you,  « bis  dat,  qui  cito  dat :'  if  you 
grant  them  speedily,  they  will  come  again  the 
sooner." 

72.  They  feigned  a  tale  of  Sixtus  Quintus,  that 
after  his  death  he  went  to  hell,  and  the  porter  of 
hell  said  to  him,  "You  have  some  reason  to  offer 
yourself  to  this  place ;  but  yet  I  have  order  not  to 
receive  you :  you  have  a  place  of  your  own,  pur 
gatory ;  you  may  go  thither."     So  he  went  away, 
and  sought  purgatory  a  great  while  and  could  find 
no  such  place.     Whereupon  he  took  heart,  and 
went  to  heaven,  and  knocked ;  and  St.  Peter  asked, 
"Who  was  there?"     He  said,  "Sixtus  pope." 
Whereunto  St.  Peter  said,  "  Why  do  you  knock  ? 
you  have  the  keys."     Sixtus  answered,  "It  is 
true  ;  but  it  is  so  long  since  they  were  given,  as  I 
doubt  the  wards  of  the  lock  be  altered." 

73.  Charles,  King  of  Sweden,  a  great  enemy  of 
the  Jesuits,  when  he  took  any  of  their  colleges,  he 
would  hang  the  old  Jesuits,  and  put  the  young  to 
his  mines,  saying,  "  that  since  they  wrought  so 
hard  above  ground,  he  would  try  how  they  could 
vork  under  ground." 

74.  In  chancery  one  time  when  the  counsel  of 
the  parties  set  forth  the  boundaries  of  the  land  in 
question,   by  the  plot ;  and  the   counsel  of  one 
part  said,  "We  lie  on  this  side,  my  lord  ;"  and 
the  counsel  of  the  other  part  said,  "  And  we  lie  on 
this  side:"  the  Lord  Chancellor  Hatton  stood  up 
and  said,  "  If  you  lie  on  both  sides,  whom  will 
you  have  me  to  believe." 

75.  Vespasian  and  Titus  his  eldest  son  were 
both  absent  from  Rome  when  the  empire  was  cast 
upon  him  :  Domltian  his  younger  son  was  at  Rome, 
who  took  upon  him  the  affairs ;  and  being  of  a 
turbulent  spirit,  made  many  changes ;  and  dis 
placed  divers  officers  and  governors  of  provinces, 
sending  them  successors.     So  when   Vespasian 
came  to  Rome,  and  Domitian  came  into  his  pre 
sence,  Vespasian  said  to  him,    "  Son,  I  looked 
when  you  would  have  sent  me  a  successor." 

76.  Sir  Amyas  Pawlet,  when  he  saw  too  much 
haste  made  in  any  matter,  was  wont  to  say,  "  Stay 
a  while,  that  we  may  make  an  end  the  sooner." 

77.  The  deputies  of  the  reformed  religion,  after 
the  massacre  which  was  upon  St.  Bartholomew's 
day,  treated  with  the  king  and  queen-mother,  and 
some  other  of  the  council,  for  a  peace.     Both  sides 
were  agreed  upon  the  articles.     The  question  was, 
upon  the  security  of  performance.     After  some 
particulars  propounded  and  rejected,  the  queen- 
mother  said,  "Why,  is  not  the  word  of  aking  suf 
ficient  security  ?"    One  of  the  deputies  answered, 
"  No,  by  St.  Bartholomew,  madam." 

78.  When  the  archduke  did  raise  his   siege 
•from   Grave,  the  then  secretary  came  to  Queen 
Elizabeth.     The  queen,  having  first  intelligence 
thereof,  said  to  the  secretary,  "  Wot  you  what  1 


The  archduke  has  risen  from  tne  Grave."  He 
answered,  "What,  without  the  trumpet  of  the 
archangel  1"  The  queen  replied,  "  Yes,  without 
sound  of  trumpet." 

79.  Francis  the  First  used  for  his  pleasure 
sometimes  to  go  disguised :  so  walking  one  day  in 
the  company   of  the  Cardinal  of  Bourbon   near 
Paris,  he  met  with   a  peasant  with  a  new  pair  of 
shoes  upon  his  arm :  so  he  called  unto  him  and 
said  ;  "  By  our  lady,  these  be  good  shoes,  what 
did  they  cost  thee ]"    The  peasant  said,  "  Guess." 
The  king  said,  "  I  think  some  five  sols."     Saith 
the   peasant,  "  You  have  lied ;    but  a   carlois." 
"  What,  villain,"  saith  the  Cardinal  of  Bourbon, 
"thou  art  dead,  it  is  the  king."     The  peasant  re 
plied,  "  The  devil  take  him  of  you  and  me,  that 
knew  so  much." 

80.  There  was  a  conspiracy  against  the  empe 
ror  Claudius  by  Scribonianus,  examined  in  the 
senate;  where  Claudius  sat  in  his  chair,  and  one 
of  his  freed  servants  stood  at  the  back  of  his  chair. 
In  the  examination,  that  freed  servant,  who  had 
much   power  with    Claudius,  very   saucily  had 
almost  all  the  words  :  and  amongst  other  things, 
he  asked  in  scorn  one  of  the  examinats,  who  was 
likewise  freed  servant  of  Scribonianus  ;  "  I  pray, 
sir,  if  Scribonianus  had  been  emperor,  what  would 
you   have   done]"      He   answered;    "I   would 
have  stood  behind  his  chair  and  held  my  peace." 

81.  Dionysius  the  tyrant,  after  he  was  deposed 
and   brought  to  Corinth,  kept  a  school.     Many 
used  to  visit  him;  and  amongst  others,  one,  when 
he  came  in,  opened   his  mantle  and   shook   his 
clothes,    thinking   to    give   Dionysius   a   gentle 
scorn;  because  it  was  the  manner  to  do  so  for 
them  that  came  in  to  him  while  he  was  tyrant. 
But  Dionysius  said  to  him;    "I  prithee  do   so 
rather  when  thou  goest  out,  that  we  may  see  thou 
stealest  nothing  away." 

82.  Hannibal  said  of  Fabius  Maximus,  and  of 
Marcellus,  whereof  the  former  waited  upon  him, 
that  he  could  make  no  progress,  and  the  latter 
had  many  sharp  fights  with  him ;  "  That  he  feared 
Fabius  like  a  tutor,  and  Marcellus  like  an  enemy." 

83.  Diogenes,    one    terrible    frosty   morning, 
came   into  the  market-place,  and   stood   naked, 
quaking,  to   show  his   tolerance.     Many  of  the 
people  came  about  him,  pitying  him  :  Plato  pass 
ing  by,  and  knowing  he  did  it  to  be  seen,  said  to 
the  people  as  he  went  by,  "  If  you  pity  him  indeed, 
leave  him  alone." 

84.  Sackford,  master  of  the  requests  to  Queen 
Elizabeth,  had  diverse  times  moved  for  audience, 
and  been  put  off.     At  last  he  came  to  the  queen 
in  a  progress,  and  had  on  a  new  pair  of  boots. 
When  he  came  in,  the  queen  said  to  him,  "  Fy, 
sloven,  thy  new  boots  stink."     "  Madam,"  said 
he,  "  it  is  not  my  new  boots  that  stink ;  but  it  is 
the  stale  bills  that  I  have  kept  so  long." 

85.  One  was  saying  that  his  great-grandfathei, 
and  grandfather,  and  father,  died  at  sea ;  said  an- 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


113 


other  that  heard  him,  "  And  I  were  as  you,  I  would 
never  come  at  sea."  "Why,"  saith  he,  "where 
did  your  great-grandfather,  and  grandfather,  and 
father  die  1"  He  answered ;  "  Where  but  in  their 
beds  1"  Saith  the  other,  "  And  I  were  as  you,  1 
would  never  come  in  bed." 

86.  Aristippus  was  earnest  suitor  to  Dionysius 
for  somewhat,  who  would  give  no  ear  to  his  suit. 
Aristippus  fell  at  his  feet,  and  then  Dionysius 
granted  it.     One  that  stood  by  said  afterwards  to 
Aristippus,  "You  a  philosopher,  and   to   be   so 
base  as  to  throw  yourself  at  the  tyrant's  feet  to 
get  a  suit."     Aristippus  answered,  "The  fault  is 
not  mine,  but  the  fault  is  in  Dionysius,  that  car 
ries  his  ears  in  his  feet." 

87.  There  was  a  young  man  in  Rome,  that  was 
very  like  Augustus  Caesar;  Augustus  took  know 
ledge  of  it,  and  sent  for  the  man,  and  asked  him, 
"WTas  your  mother  never  at  Rome1?"     He  an 
swered,  "No,  sir,  but  my  father  was." 

88.  A  physician  advised  his  patient  that  had  sore 
eyes,  that  he  should  abstain  from  wine ;  but  the 
patient  said,  "I  think,  rather,  sir,  from  wine  and 
water;  for  I  have  often  marked  it  in  blear  eyes, 
and   I   have   seen  water  come  forth,  but  never 
wine." 

89.  When  Sir  Thomas  More  was  lord  chancel 
lor,  he  did  use,  at  mass,  to  sit  in  the  chancel : 
and  his  lady  in  a  pew.     And  because  the  pew 
stood  out  of  sight,  his  gentleman-usher  ever  after 
service,  came  to  the  lady's  pew,  and  said,  "Madam, 
my  lord   is   gone."     So   when  the   chancellor's 
place  was  taken  from  him,  the  next  time  they 
went  to  church,  Sir  Thomas  himself  came  to 
his  lady's  pew,  and  said  ;  "  Madam,  my  lord  is 
gone." 

90.  At  an  act  of  the  commencement,  the  an 
swerer  gave  for  his  question,  that  an  aristocracy 
was  better  than  a  monarchy.     The  replier,  who 
was  a  dissolute  fellow,  did  tax  him,  that  being  a 
private  bred  man,  he  would  give  a  question  of 
state.     The  answerer  said,  that  the  replier  did 
much  wrong  the  privilege  of  scholars,  who  would 
be  much  straitened  if  they  should  give  questions 
of  nothing  but  such  things  wherein  they  are  prac 
tised  :  and  added,  "We  have  heard  yourself  dis 
pute  of  virtue,  which  no  man  will  say  you  put  much 
in  practice." 

91.  There  was  a  dispute,  whether  great  heads 
or  little  heads  had  the  better  wit.     And  one  said, 
"  It  must  needs  be  the  little  ;  for  that  it  is  a  maxim, 
Omne  majus  continet  in  se  minus." 

92.  Solon  when  he  wept  for  his  son's  death,  and 
one  said  to  him,  "Weeping  will  not  help ;"  answer 
ed,  "  Alas,  therefore  I  weep,  because  weeping  will 
not  help." 

93.  Solon  being  asked,  whether  he  had  given 
the  Athenians  the  best  laws,  answered,  "  Yes,  the 
best  of  those  that  they  would  have  received." 

94.  One  said  to  Aristippus,  "  It  is  a  strange  thing 
why  men  should  rather  give  unto  the  poor,  than  to 

VOL.  I.— 15 


philosophers."  He  answered, "  Because  they  think 
themselves  may  sooner  come  to  be  poor,  than  to 
be  philosophers." 

95.  Alexander  used  to  say  of  his  two  friends, 
Craterus  and  Hephaestion;  that  Hephaestion  loved 
Alexander,  and  Craterus  loved  the  king. 

96.  It  fell  out  so,  that  as  Livia  went  abroad  in 
Rome,  there  met  her  naked  young  men  that  were 
sporting  in  the  streets,  which  Augustus  was  about 
severely  to  punish  in  them  ;  but  Livia  spake  for 
them,  and  said,  "  It  was  no  more  to  chaste  women 
than  so  many  statues." 

97.  Alonso  of  Arragon  was  wont  to  say  in  com 
mendation  of  age,  "That  age  appeared  to  be  best 
in  four  things  :  old  wood  best  to  burn  ;  old  wine 
to  drink  ;  old  friends  to  trust ;  and  old  authors  to 
read." 

98.  It  was  said  of  Augustus,  and  afterward  the 
likewras  said  of  SeptimiusSeverus,  both  which  did 
infinite  mischief  in  their  beginnings,  and  infinite 
good  toward  their  ends,  "  that  they  should  either 
have  never  been  born  or  never  died." 

99.  Queen    Isabella  of    Spain   used   to   say, 
"  Whosoever  hath  a  good  presence,  and  a  good 
fashion,  carries  letters  of  recommendation. 

100.  Trajan  would  say  of  the  vain  jealousy  of 
princes,  that  seek  to  make  away  those  that  aspire 
to  their  succession ;  "  That  there  was  never  king 
that  did  put  to  death  his  successor." 

101.  When  it  was  represented  to  Alexander,  to 
the  advantage  of  Antipater,  who  was  a  stern  and 
imperious  man,  that  he  only  of  all  his  lieutenants 
wore  no  purple,  but  kept  the  Macedonian  habit  of 
black ;  Alexander  said,  "  Yea,  but  Antipater  is 
all  purple  within." 

102.  Constantine  the  Great,  in  a  kind  of  envy, 
himself  being  a  great  builder,  as  Trajan  likewise 
was,  would  call  Trajan  "  Parietaria :"  wall-flower; 
because  his  name  was  upon  so  many  walls. 

103.  Philip  of  Macedon  was  wished  to  banish 
one  for  speaking  ill  of  him.    But  Philip  answered ; 
"  Better  he  speak  where  we  are  both  known,  than 
where  we  are  both  unknown." 

104.  A  Grecian  captain  advising  the  confede 
rates  that  were  united  against  the  Lacedaemonians, 
touching  their  enterprise,  gave  opinion,  that  they 
should  go  directly  upon  Sparta,  saying;  "That 
the  state  of  Sparta  was  like  rivers ;  strong  when 
they  had  run  a  great  way,  and  weak  towards  their 
head." 

105.  Alonso  of  Arragon  was  wont  to  say  of 
himself,  "  That  he  was  a  great  necromancer,  for 
that  he  used  to  ask  counsel  of  the  dead  :"  mean 
ing  books. 

106.  Lucullus  entertained  Pompey  in  one  of 
his  magnificent  houses :  Pompey  said,  "  This  is  a 
marvellous  fair  and  stately  house  for  the  summer: 
but  methinks  it  should  be  very  cold  for  winter." 
Lucullus  answered,  "Do  you  not  think  me  as 
wise  as  divers  fowls  are,  to  change  my  habitation 
in  the  winter  season!" 

K2 


114 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


107.  Plato  entertained  some  of  his  friends  at  a 
dinner,  and  had  in  the  chamber  a  bed,  or  couch, 
neatly  and  costly  furnished.     Diogenes  came  in 
and  got  upon  the  bed,  and  trampled  it,  saying, 
"  I  trample  upon  the  pride  of  Plato."     Plato 
mildly  answered,  "But  with  greater  pride.1' 

108.  One  was  examined  upon  certain  scanda 
lous  words  spoken  against  the  king.     He  confess 
ed  them,  and  said;  "It  is  true,  I  spake  them,  and 
if  the  wine  had  not  failed,  1  had  said  much  more." 

109.  Pompey,  being  commissioner  for  sending 
grain  to  Rome  in  time  of  dearth,  when  he  came  to 
the  sea,  found  it  very  tempestuous  and  dangerous, 
insomuch  as  those  about  him  advised  him  by  no 
means  to  embark;  but  Pompey  said,  "It  is  of 
necessity  that  I  go,  not  that  I  live." 

110.  Trajan  would   say,    "That    the   king's 
exchequer  was  like  the  spleen ;  for  when  that  did 
swell,  the  whole  body  did  pine." 

111.  Charles  the   Bald  allowed   one,  whose 
name  was  Scottus,  to  sit  at  the  table  with  him, 
for  his  pleasure :  Scottus  sat  on  the  other  side  of 
the  table.     One  time  the  king  being  merry  with 
him,  said  to  him ;  "  What  is  there  between  Scott 
and  sot?"    Scottus  answered;  "The  table  only." 

112.  Ethelwold,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  in  a 
famine,  sold  all  the  rich  vessels  and  ornaments  of 
the  church,  to  relieve  the  poor  with  bread ;  and 
said,  "  There  was  no  reason  that  the  dead  temples 
of  God  should  be  sumptuously  furnished,  and  the 
living  temples  suffer  penury." 

113.  There  was  a  marriage  made  between  a 
widow  of  great  wealth,  and  a  gentleman  of  a  great 
house,  that  had  no  estate  or  means.     Jack  Roberts 
said,  "  That  marriage  was  like  a  black  pudding ; 
the  one  brought  blood,  and  the  other  brought  suet 
and  oatmeal." 

114.  Demosthenes  was  upbraided  by  YEschines, 
that  his  speeches  did  smell  of  the  lamp.     But 
Demosthenes  said,  "  Indeed  there  is  a  great  deal 
of  difference  between  that  which  you  and  I  do  by 
lamp-light." 

115.  Demades  the  orator,  in  his  age  was  talka 
tive,  and  would  eat  hard  :  Antipater  would  say  of 
him,  that  he  was  like  a  sacrifice,  that  nothing  was 
left  of  it  but  the  tongue  and  the  paunch. 

116.  When   King   Edward  the   Second  was 
amongst  his  torturers,  who  hurried   him  to  and 
fro,  that  no  man  should  know  where  he  was,  they 
set  him  down  upon  a  bank:  and  one  time,  the 
more  to  disguise  his  face,  shaved  him,  and  washed 
him  with  cold  water  of  a  ditch  by :  the  king  said ; 
"  Well,  yet  I  will  have  warm  water  for  my  beard :" 
and  so  shed  abundance  of  tears. 

117.  The  Turks  made  an  expedition  into  Persia, 
and  because  of  the  strait  jaws  of  the  mountains 
of  Armenia,  the  bashaws  consulted  which  way 
they  should  get  in.     Says  a  natural  fool  that  stood 
by,  "  Here  is  much  ado  how  you  shall  get  in ;  but 
I  hear  nobody  take  care  how  you  should  get  out.' 

118.  Sir  Thomas  More,  when  the  counsel  of 


the  party  pressed  him  for  a  longer  day  to  perform 
the  decree,  said ;  "  Take  Saint  Barnaby's  day, 
,vhich  is  the  longest  day  in  the  year."  Now  Saint 
Barnaby's  day  was  within  few  days  following. 

119.  One  of  the  fathers  saith,  "That  there  is 
but  this  difference  between  the  death  of  old  men 
and  young  men;  that  old  men  go  to  death,  and 
death  comes  to  young  men." 

120.  Philo  Judaeus  saith,  that  the  sense  is  like 
the  sun ;  for  the  sun  seals  up  the  globe  of  heaven, 
and  opens  the  globe  of  earth :  so  the  sense  doth 
obscure    heavenly   things,   and    reveals   earthly 
things. 

121.  Cassius,  after  the  defeat  of  Crassus  by  the 
Parthians,  whose  weapons  were  chiefly  arrows, 
fled  to  the  city  of  Charras,  where  he  durst  not 
stay  any  time,  doubting  to  be  pursued  and  be 
sieged  ;  he  had  with  him  an  astrologer,  who  said 
to  him,  "Sir,  I  would  not  have  you  go  hence, 
while  the  moon  is  in  the  sign  of  Scorpio."     Cas 
sius  answered,  "I  am  more  afraid    of  that  of 
Sagittarius." 

122.  Alexander,  after  the  battle  of  Granicum, 
had  very  great  offers  made  him  by  Darius ;  con 
sulting  with  his  captains  concerning  them,  Par- 
menio  said,  "  Sure  I  would  accept  of  these  offers, 
if  I  were  as  Alexander."     Alexander  answered, 
"  So  would  I,  if  I  were  as  Parmenio." 

123.  Alexander  wras  wont  to   say,   he   knew 
himself  to  be  mortal,  chiefly  by  two  things ;  sleep 
and  lust. 

124.  Augustus   Caesar  was  invited   to  supper 
by  one  of  his  old  friends  that  had  conversed  with 
him  in  his  less  fortunes,  and  had  but  ordinary  en 
tertainment.     Whereupon,  at  his  going,  he  said; 
"I  did  not  know  you  and  I  were  so  familiar." 

125.  Augustus  Caesar  would  say;    "That  he 
wondered  that  Alexander  feared  he  should  want 
work,  having  no  more  to  conquer ;  as  if  it  were 
not  as  hard  a  matter  to  keep  as  to  conquer." 

126.  Antigonus,  when  it  was  told  him  that  the 
enemy  had  such  volumes  of  arrows  that  they  did 
hide  the  sun,  said ;  "That  falls  out  well,  for  it  is 
hot  weather,  and  we  shall  fight  in  the  shade." 

127.  Augustus  Caesar  did  write  to  Livia,  who 
was  over-sensible  of  some  ill-words  that  had  been 
spoken  of  them  both:  "Let  it  not  trouble  thee, 
my  Livia,  if  any  man  speak  ill  of  us :    for  we 
have  enough  that  no  man  can  do  ill  unto  us." 

128.  Chilon  said,  that  kings,  friends,  and  fa 
vourites,  were  like  casting  counters ;  that  some 
times  stood  for  one,  sometimes  for  ten,  sometimes 
for  an  hundred. 

129.  Theodosius,  when  he  was  pressed  by  a 
suitor,  and  denied  him ;  the  suitor  said,  "  Why, 
sir,  you  promised  it."     He  answered  ;  "  I  said  it, 
but  I  did  not  promise  it  if  it  be  unjust." 

130.  Agathocles,  after  he  had  taken  Syracuse, 
the  men  whereof,  during  the   siege,  had   in   a 
bravery  spoken  of  him  all  the  villany  that  might 
be,   sold  the   Syracusans  for  slaves,  and   said, 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


115 


"  Now  if  you  use  such  words  of  me,  I  will  tell 
your  master  of  you." 

131.  Dionysius  the  elder,  when  he  saw  his  son 
in   many   things   very   inordinate,  said   to   him, 
"  Did  you  ever  know  me  do  such  things !"     His 
son  answered,  "  No,  but  you  had  not  a  tyrant  to 
your  father."     The  father  replied,  "  No,  nor  you, 
if  you  take  these  courses,  will  have  a  tyrant  to 
your  son." 

132.  Calisthenes,  the  philosopher,  that  followed 
Alexander's  court,  and  hated  the  king,  being  asked 
by  one,  how  one  should   become  the  famousest 
man  in  the  world,  answered,  "  By  taking  him 
away  that  is." 

133.  Sir  Edward  Coke  was  wont  to  say,  when 
a  great  man  came  to  dinner  to  him,  and  gave  him 
no  knowledge  of  his  coming,  "  Sir,  since  you  sent 
me  no  word  of  your  coming,  you  must  dine  with 
me ;  but  if  I  had  known  of  it  in  due  time,  I  would 
have  dined  with  you." 

134.  The  Romans,  when  they  spake  to  the 
people,  were  wont  to  style  them,  "  Ye  Romans :" 
when  commanders  in  war  spake  to  their  army, 
they  styled  them,  "  My  soldiers."     There  was  a 
mutiny  in  Caesar's  army,  and  somewhat  the  sol 
diers  would  have  had,  yet  they  would  not  declare 
themselves  in  it,  but  only  demanded  a  mission, 
or  discharge ;  though  with  no  intention  it  should 
be  granted:  but  knowing  that  Caesar  had  at  that 
time  great  need  of  their  service,  thought  by  that 
means  to  wrench  him  to  their  other   desires: 
whereupon  with   one   cry  they  asked  mission. 
Caesar,  after  silence  made,  said;  "I  for  my  part, 
ye  Romans."     This  title  did  actually  speak  them 
to  be  dismissed :  which  voice  they  had  no  sooner 
heard,  but  they  mutinied  again ;    and  would  not 
suffer  him  to  go  on  with  his  speech,  until  he  had 
called  them  by  the  name  of  his  soldiers :  and  so 
with  that  one  word  he  appeased  the  sedition. 

135.  Caesar  would  say  of  Sylla,  for  that  he  did 
resign  his  dictatorship  ;  "  Sylla  was  ignorant  of 
letters,  he  could  not  dictate." 

136.  Seneca  said  of  Caesar,  "  that  he  did  quick 
ly  show  the  sword,  but  never  leave  it  off." 

137.  Diogenes  begging,  as  divers  philosophers 
then  used,  did  beg  more  of  a  prodigal  man,  than 
of  the  rest  which  were  present.     Whereupon  one 
said  to  him ;  "  See  your  baseness,  that  when  you 
find  a  liberal  mind,  you  will  take  most  of  him." 
"No,"  said  Diogenes,  "but  I  mean  to  beg  of 
the  rest  again." 

138.  Jason  the  Thessalian  was  wont  to  say, 
"that  some  things  must  be  done  unjustly,  that 
many  things  may  be  done  justly." 

139.  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon  being  keeper  of  the 
seal,  when  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  progress,  came 
to  his  house  at  Redgrave,  and  said  to  him,  "  My 
lo.  what  a  little  house  have  you  gotten?"  said, 
"  Madam,  my  house  is  well,  but  it  is  you  that 
have  made  me  too  great  for  my  house." 

140.  Themistocles,  when  an  ambassador  from 


a  mean  estate  did  speak  great  matters,  said  to 
him,  "  Friend,  your  words  would  require  a  city." 

141.  Agesilaus,  when  one  told  him  there  was 
one  did  excellently  counterfeit  a  nightingale,  and 
would  have  had  him  hear  him,  said,  "  Why  I 
have  heard  the  nightingale  herself." 

142.  A  great  nobleman,  upon  the  complaint  of 
a  servant  of  his,  laid  a  citizen  by  the  heels,  think 
ing  to  bena  him  to  his  servant's  desire ;  but  the 
fellow  being  stubborn,  the  servant  came  to   his 
lord,  and  told  him,  "  Your  lordship,  I  know,  hath 
gone  as  far  as  well  you  may,  but  it  works  not; 
for  yonder  fellow  is  more  perverse  than  before." 
Said  my  lord,   "  Let's  forget  him  a  \vhile,  and 
then  he  will  remember  himself." 

143.  One  came  to  a  cardinal  in  Rome,  and  told 
him,  that  he  had  brought  his  lordship  a  dainty 
white   palfrey,   but  he   fell   lame   by  the   way. 
Saith  the  cardinal  to  him,   "  I'll  tell  thee  what 
thou  shalt  do :  go  to  such  a  cardinal,  and  such  a 
cardinal,"  naming  him  some  half  a  dozen  cardi 
nals,  "  and  tell  them  as  much ;  and  so  whereas 
by  thy  horse,  if  he  had  been  sound,  thou  couldst 
have  pleased  but  one,  with  thy  lame  horse  thou 
mayst  please  half  a  dozen." 

144.  Iphicrates  the  Athenian,  in  a  treaty  that 
he  had  with  the  Lacedaemonians  for  peace,  in 
which  question  was  about  security  for  observing 
the  same,  said,  "  The  Athenians  would  not  ac 
cept  of  any  security,  except  the  Lacedaemonians 
did  yield  up  unto  them  those  things,  whereby  it 
might  be  manifest,  that  they  could  not  hurt  them 
if  they  would." 

145.  Euripides  would  say  of  persons  that  were 
beautiful,  and  yet  in  some  years,  "  In  fair  bodies 
not  only  the  spring  is  pleasant,  but  also  the  au 
tumn." 

14G.  After  a  great  fight,  there  came  to  the  camp 
of  Consalvo,  the  great  captain,  a  gentleman, 
proudly  horsed  and  armed.  Diego  de  Mendoza 
asked  the  great  captain,  "Who  is  this1?"  Who 
answered,  "  It  is  Saint  Ermin,  who  never  appears 
but  after  a  storm." 

147.  There  was  a  captain  sent  to  an  exploit  by 
his  general  with  forces   that  were  not  likely  to 
achieve  the  enterprise ;  the  captain  said  to  him, 
"  Sir,  appoint  but  half  so  many."  "  Why  1"  saith 
the  general.     The  captain  answered,  "  Because 
it  is  better  fewer  die  than  more." 

148.  They  would  say  of  the  Duke  of  Guise, 
Henry,  that  had  sold  and  oppignerated   all   his 
patrimony,  to  suffice  the  great  donatives  that  he 
had  made ;  "  that  he  was  the  greatest  usurer  of 
France,  because  all  his  state  was  in  obligations." 

149.  Croesus  said  to  Cambyses,    "that  peace 
was  better  than  war;  because  in  peace  the  sons 
did  bury  their  fathers,  but  in  the  wars  the  fathers 
did  bury  their  sons." 

150.  There  was  a  harbinger  who  had  lodged  a 
gentleman  in  a  very  ill  room,  who  expostulated 
with  him  somewhat  rudely;   but  the  harbinger 


116 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


carelessly  said ;  "  You  will  take  pleasure  in  it 
when  you  are  out  of  it." 

151.  There  was  a  cursed  page  that  his  master 
whipt  naked,  and  when  he  had  been  whipt,  would 
not  put  on  his  clothes :  and  when  his  master  bade 
him,  said,  "Take  them  you,  for  they   are  the 
hangrnan's  fees." 

152.  There  was  one  that  died  greafly  in  debt : 
when  it  was  reported  in  some  company,  where 
divers  of  his  creditors  were,  that  he  was  dead, 
one  beo-an  to  say,  "  In  good  faith,  then,  he  hath 
carried  five  hundred  ducats  of  mine  with  him  into 
the  other  world :"  and  another  said,  "  And  two 
hundred  of  mine ;"  and  some   others   spake   of 
several  sums  of  theirs.    Whereupon  one  that  was 
amongst  them  said,  "  Well,  I  perceive  now,  that 
though  a  man  cannot  carry  any  of  his  own  with 
him  into  the  next  world,  yet  he  may  carry  other 
men's." 

153.  Francis    Carvajall,   that  was    the    great 
captain  of  the  rebels  of  Peru,  had  often  given  the 
chase  to  Diego  Centeno,  a  principal  commander 
of  the  emperors  party :  he  was  afterwards  taken 
by  the  emperor's  lieutenant,  Gasca,  and  committed 
to  the  custody  of  Diego  Centeno,  who  used  him 
with  all  possible  courtesy;  inasmuch  as  Carva 
jall  asked  him,  "I  pray,  sir,  who  are  you  that 
use  me  with  this  courtesy  1"    Centeno  said,  "Do 
not  you  know  Diego  Centeno  ?"     Carvajall  an 
swered,  "In  good  faith,  sir,  I  have  been  so  used 
to  see  your  back,  as  I  knew  not  your  face." 

154.  Carvajall,  when  he  was  drawn  to  execu 
tion,  being  fourscore  and  five  years  old,  and  laid 
upon  the  hurdle,  said,  "W^hat!  young  in  cradle, 
old  in  cradle !" 

155.  There  is  a  Spanish  adage,  "  Love  without 
end  hath  no  end :"  meaning,  that  if  it  were  be 
gun  not  upon  particular  ends  it  would  last. 

156.  Cato  the   elder,  being  aged,  buried  his 
wife,  and  married  a  young  woman.      His   son 
came  to  him,  and  said;    "Sir,  what  have  I  of 
fended,  that  you  have  brought  a  stepmother  into 
your  house'?"     The  old  man  answered,  "Nay, 
quite  contrary,  son  :  thou  pleasest  me  so  well,  as 
I  would  be  glad  to  have  more  such." 

157.  Crassus  the  orator  had  a  fish  which  the 
.Romans  called  Mureena,  that  he  made  very  tame 
and  fond  of  him;  the  fish  died,  and  Crassus  wept 
for  it.     One  day  falling  in  contention  with  Domi- 
tius  in  the  senate,  Domitius  said,  "  Foolish  Cras 
sus,  you  wept  for  your  Muraena."  Crassus  replied, 
"  That  is  more  than  you  did  for  both  your  wives." 

158.  Philip,  Alexander's  father,  gave  sentence 
against  a  prisoner  what  time  he  was  drowsy,  and 
seemed  to  give  small  attention.     The  prisoner, 
after  sentence  was  pronounced,  said,  "  I  appeal." 
The  king  somewhat  stirred,  said  ;  "To  whom  do 
you  appeal?"     The  prisoner  answered,  "From 
Philip  when  he  gave  no  ear,  to  Philip  when  he 
snail  give  ear." 

159.  The  same  Philip  maintained  arguments 


with  a  musician  in  points  of  his  art,  somewhat 
peremptorily;  but  the  musician  said  to  him, 
"  God  forbid,  sir,  your  fortune  were  so  hard  that 
you  should  know  these  things  better  than  my 
self." 

1GO.  There  was  a  philosopher  that  disputed 
with  the  Emperor  Adrian,  and  did  it  but  weakly. 
One  of  his  friends  that  stood  by,  afterwards  said 
unto  him,  "  Methinks  you  were  not  like  yourself 
last  day,  in  argument  with  the  emperor ;  I  could 
have  answered  better  myself."  "  Why,"  said 
the  philosopher,  "  would  you  have  me  contend 
with  him  that  commands  thirty  legions'?" 

161.  Diogenes  was  asked  in  a  kind  of  scorn, 
"  What  was  the  matter,  that  philosophers  haunted 
rich  men,  and  not  rich  men  philosophers  ?"     He 
answered,  "  Because  the  one  knew  what  they 
wanted,  the  other  did  not." 

1 62.  Demetrius,  King  of  Macedon,  had  a  petition 
offered  him  divers  times  by  an  old  woman,  and  still 
answered,  "he  had  no  leisure."     Whereupon  the 
woman  said  aloud,  "  Why  then  give  over  to  be 
king." 

163.  The  same  Demetrius  would  at  times  retire 
himself  from  business,  and  give  himself  wholly  to 
pleasures.     One  day  of  those  his  retirings,  giving 
out  that  he  was  sick,  his  father  Antigonus  came 
on  the  sudden  to  visit  him,  and  met  a  fair  dainty 
youth  coming  out  of  his  chamber.     When  Anti 
gonus  came  in,  Demetrius  said,  "  Sir,  the  fever 
left  me  right  now."     Antigonus  replied,  "  I  think 
it  was  he  that  I  met  at  the  door." 

164.  There  was  a  merchant  in  debt  that  died. 
His  goods  and  household  stuff  were  set  forth  for 
sale.     A  stranger  would  needs  buy  a  pillow  there, 
saying,  "This  pillow  sure  is  good  to  sleep  upon, 
since  he  could  sleep  that  owed  so  many  debts." 

165.  A  lover  met  his  lady  in  a  close  chair,  she 
thinking  to  have  gone  unknown,  he  came  and  spake 
to  her.     She  asked  him,  "  How  did  you  know 
me?"      He   said,  "Because   my  wounds   bleed 
afresh  ;"  alluding  to  the  common  tradition,  that  the 
wounds  of  a  body  slain  will  bleed  afresh  upon  the 
approach  of  the  murderer. 

166.  A  gentleman  brought  music  to  his  lady's 
window.     She  hated  him,  and  had  warned  him 
often   away ;    and   when   he   would   not   desist, 
she  threw  stones  at  him.     Whereupon  a  gentle 
man   said  unto  him,  that  was  in  his  company, 
"  What  greater  honour  can  you  have  to  your  music, 
than  that  stones  come  about  you,  as  they  did  to 
Orpheus'?" 

167.  Cato  Major  would  say,  "That  wise  men 
learned  more  by  fools  than  fools  by  wise  men." 

168.  When  it  was  said  to  Anaxagoras,  "  The 
Athenians  have  condemned  you  to  die  :"  he  said 
again,  "  And  nature  them." 

169.  Demosthenes  when  he  fled  from  the  battle, 
and  that  it  was  reproached  to  him,  said,  "  that  he 
that  flies  might  fight  again." 

170.  Antalcidas,  when  an  Athenian  said  to  hire 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


117 


"  Ye  Spartans  are  unlearned ;"  said  again,  "  True 
for  we  have  learned  no  evil  vice  of  you." 

171.  Alexander,  when  his  father  wished  him  t( 
run  for  the  prize  of  the  race  at  the  Olympian  games 
for  he  was  very  swift,  answered  ;  "  He  would,  if 
he  might  run  with  kings." 

172.  When  Alexander  passed  into  Asia,  he  gave 
large  donatives  to  his  captains,  and  other  principa 
men  of  virtue  ;  insomuch  as  Parmenio  asked  him 
"  Sir,  what  do  you  keep  for  yourself?"  He  answer 
ed,  "Hope." 

173.  Antigonus  used  to  often  go  disguised,  and 
to  listen  at  the  tents  of  his  soldiers  ;  and  at  a  time 
heard  some  that  spoke  very  ill  of  him.  Whereupor 
he  opened  the  tent  a  little,  and  said  to  them,  "  If 
you  would  speak  ill  of  me,  you  should  go  a  little 
farther  off." 

174.  Vespasian  seta  tribute  upon  urine  ;  Titus 
his  son  emboldened  himself  to  speak  to  his  father 
of  it:  and  represented  it  as  a  thing  indign  and 
sordid.     Vespasian  said  nothing  for  the  time  :  but 
a  while  after,  when  it  was  forgotten,  sent  for 
piece  of  silver  out  of  the  tribute  money,  and  called 
to  his  son,  bidding  him  to  smell  it ;  and  asked  him, 
whether  he  found  any  offence.     Who  said,  "  No." 
"  Why  so  ?"  saith  Vespasian  again  ;  "  yet  this 
comes  out  of  urine." 

175.  There  were  two  gentlemen  otherwise  of 
equal  degree,  save  that  the  one  was  of  the  an- 
cienter  house.     The  other  in  courtesy  asked  his 
hand  to  kiss  :  which  he  gave  him  ;  and  he  kissed 
it ;  but  said  withal,  to  right  himself  by  way  of 
friendship,  "  Well,  I  and  you,  against  any  two  of 
them  :"  putting  himself  first. 

176.  Nerva  the  emperor  succeeded  Domitian, 
who  had  been  tyrannical ;  and  in  his  time  many 
noble  houses  were  overthrown  by  false  accusa 
tions  ;  the  instruments  whereof  were  chiefly  Mar- 
cellus  and  Regulus.     The  Emperor   Nerva  one 
night  supped  privately  with  six  or  seven  :  amongst 
whom  there  was  one  that  was  a  dangerous  man  ; 
and  began  to  take  the  like  courses  as  Marcellus 
and  Regulus  had  done.     The  emperor  fell  into 
discourse  of  the  injustice  and  tyranny  of  the  former 
time,  and  by  name  of  the  two  accusers  ;  and  said, 
"  What  should  we  do  with  them,  if  we  had  them 
now  ?"  One  of  them  that  was  at  supper,  and  was 
a  free-spoken  senator,  said,  "  Marry,  they  should 
sup  with  us." 

177.  There  was  one  that  found  a  great  mass 
of  money  digging  under   ground   in  his  grand 
father's  house  :  and  being  somewhat  doubtful  of 
the  case,  signified  it  to  the  emperor  that  he  had 
found   such   treasure.     The  emperor  made  a  re 
script  thus  :  "  Use  it."     He  writ  back  again,  that 
tiie  sum  was  greater  than  his  estate  or  condition 
could  use.     The  emperor  writ  a  new  rescript  thus  : 
"  Abuse  it." 

178.  A  Spaniard  was  censuring  to  a  French  gen 
tleman  the  want  of  devotion  amongst  the  French  ; 
in  that,  whereas  in  Spain,  when  the  sacrament 


goes  to  the  sick,  any  that  meets  with  it  turns  back 
and  waits  upon  it  to  the  house  whither  it  goes  : 
but  in  France  they  only  do  reverence,  and  pass 
by.  But  the  French  gentleman  answered  him, 
"There  is  reason  for  it;  for  here  with  us,  Christ 
is  secure  amongst  his  friends;  but  in  Spain  there 
be  so  many  Jews  and  Maranos  that  it  is  not  amiss 
for  him  to  have  a  convoy." 

179.  Coranus,  the  Spaniard,  at  a  table  at  dinner, 
fell  into  an  extolling  of  his  own  father,  saying, 
"If  he   could   have   wished    of  God,  he   could 
not  have  chosen  amongst  men  a  better  father." 
Sir  Henry  Savil  said,  "  What,  not  Abraham  ?" 
Now  Coranus  was  doubted  to  descend  of  a  race 
of  Jews. 

180.  Consalvo  would  say,  "The  honour  of  a 
soldier  ought  to  be  of  a  strong  web ;"  meaning, 
that  it  should  not  be  so  fine  and  curious  that  every 
little  disgrace  should  catch  and  stick  in  it. 

181.  One   of  the   Seven   was   \vont   to   say; 
"  That  laws   were    like    cobwebs ;    where   the 
small   fiies  were    caught,   and   the   great  brake 
through." 

182.  Bias  gave  in  precept,  "Love  as  if  you  should 
hereafter  hate  ;  and  hate  as  if  you  should  hereafter 
love." 

183.  Aristippus,  being  reprehended  of  luxury  by 
one  that  was  not  rich,  for  that  he  gave  six  crowns 
for  a  small  fish,  answered,  "Why,  what  would 
you  have  given  1"   The  other  said,  "  Some  twelve- 
pence."     Aristippus  said  again,  "And  six  crowns 
are  no  more  with  me." 

18-1.  There  was  a  French  gentleman  speaking 
with  an  English,  of  the  law  Salique;  that  women 
were  excluded  from  inheriting  the  crown  of  France. 
The  English  said,  "Yes;  but  that  wTas  meant  of 
the  women  themselves,  not  of  such  males  as 
claimed  by  women."  The  French  gentleman 
said,  "Where  do  you  find  that  gloss?"  The 
English  answered,  "I'll  tell  you,  sir:  look  on  the 
back  side  of  the  record  of  the  law  Salique,  and 
there  )TOU  shall  find  it  endorsed  :"  implyingthere 
was  no  such  thing  as  the  law  Salique,  but  that  it 
^s  a  mere  fiction. 

185.  There  \vas  a  friar  in  earnest  dispute  about 
;he  law  Salique,   that  would  needs  prove  it  by 
Scripture;  citing  that  verse  of  the  gospel,  "  Lilia 
agri  non  laborant  neque  nent ;"  the  lilies  of  the 
ield  do  neither  labour  nor  spin  ;  applying  it  thus  : 
That  the  flower-de-luces  of  France  cannot  de 
scend,  neither  to  the  distaff  nor  to  the  spade  :  that 
s,  not  to  a  woman  nor  to  a  peasant. 

186.  Julius  Caesar,  as  he  passed  by,  was,  by 
acclamation  of  some  that  stood  in  the  way,  termed 

ving,  to  try  how  the  people  would  take  it.  The 
teople  showed  great  murmur  and  distaste  at  it. 
Usesar,  finding  where  the  wind  stood,  slighted 
t,  and  said,  "  I  am  not  king,  but  Csesar;"  as  if 
hey  had  mistaken  his  name.  For  Rex  was  a  sur- 
lame  amongst  the  Romans  as  King  is  with  us. 

187.  When  Croesus,  for  his  glory,  showed  So* 


118 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


Ion  his  great  treasures  of  gold,  Solon  said  to  him, 
"  If  another  king  come  that  hath  better  iron  than 
you,  he  will  be  master  of  all  this  gold." 

188.  There  was  a  gentleman  that  came  to  the 
tilt  all  in  orange-tawny,  and  ran  very  ill.     The 
next  day  he  came  again  all  in  green,   and  ran 
worse.     There  was  one  of  the  lookers  on  asked 
another ;  "  What  is  the  reason  that  this  gentleman 
changeth   his  colours  "?"      The   other  answered, 
"  Sure,  because  it  may  be  reported,  that  the  gen 
tleman  in  the  green  ran  worse  than  the  gentleman 
in  the  orange-tawny." 

189.  Aristippus  said ;  "That  those  that  studied 
particular  sciences,   and    neglected   philosophy, 
were  like  Penelope's  wooers,  that  made  love  to 
the  waiting  woman." 

190.  Plato  reprehended  severely  a  young  man 
for  entering  into  a  dissolute  house.     The  young 
man  said  to  him,  "  Why  do  you  reprehend   so 
sharply  for  so  small  a  matter?"     Plato  replied, 
"  But  custom  is  no  small  matter." 

191.  There  was  a  law  made  by  the  Romans 
against  the  bribery  and  extortion  of  the  governors 
of  provinces.     Cicero  saith  in  a  speech  of  his  to 
the  people,  "  That  he  thought  the  provinces  would 
petition  to  the  state  of  Rome  to  have  that  law  re 
pealed.     For,"  saith  he,  "  before,  the  governors 
did  bribe  and  extort  as  much  as  was  sufficient  for 
themselves  ;   but  now  they  bribe  and  extort  as 
much  as  may  be  enough  not  only  for  themselves, 
but  for  the  judges,  and  jurors,  and  magistrates." 

19-2.  Archidamus,  King  of  Lacedaemon,  having 
received  from  Philip,  King  of  Macedon,  after 
Philip  had  won  the  victory  of  Chaeronea  upon  the 
Athenians,  proud  letters,  writ  back  to  him,  "  That 
if  he  measured  his  own  shadow,  he  would  find  it 
no  longer  than  it  was  before  his  victory." 

193.  Pyrrhus,  when  his  friends  congratulated 
to  him  his  victory  over  the  Romans,  under  the 
conduct  of  Fabricius,  but  with  great  slaughter  of 
his  own  side,  said  to  them  again,  "Yes,  but  if  we 
have  such  another  victory,  we  are  undone." 

194.  Cineas  was  an  excellent  orator  and  states 
man,  and  principal  friend  and  counsellor  to  Pyr 
rhus,  and  falling  in  inward  talk  with  him,  and  dis 
cerning  the  king's   endless   ambition;   Pyrrhus 
opened  himself  unto  him,  that  he  intended  first  a 
war  upon  Italy,  and  hoped  to  achieve  it;  Cineas 
asked    him,    "  Sir,   what  will   you   do   then  ?" 
"Then,"  saith  he,   "we  will   attempt    Sicily." 
Cineas   said,    "  Well,  sir,  what  then  ?"     Saith 
Pyrrhus,  "  If  the  gods  favour  us,  we  may  con 
quer  Africa  and  Carthage."     "  What  then,  sir  ?" 
saith  Cineas.     "  Nay  then,"  saith  Pyrrhus,  "  we 
may  take  our  rest,  and  sacrifice  and  feast  every 
day,  and  make  merry  with  our  friends."     "Alas, 
sir,"  said  Cineas,  "may  we  not  do  so  now  with 
out  all  this  ado?" 

195.  The  ambassadors  of  Asia  Minor  came  to 
Antonius,   after  he   had   imposed   upon   them   a 
double  tax,  and  said  plainly  to  him  :  "  That  if  he 


\vould  have  two  tributes  in  one  year,  he  must 
give  them  two  seed-times  and  two  harvests." 

196.  Plato  was  wont  to  say  of  his  master  So 
crates,  that  he  \vas  like  the  apothecaries'  galli 
pots  ;    that  had  on  the  outside  apes,  and  owls, 
and  satyrs  ;  but  within,  precious  drugs. 

197.  Lamia  the  courtezan  had  all  power  with 
Demetrius,  King  of  Macedon,  and  by  her  instiga 
tions  he  did  many  unjust  and  cruel  acts  ;  where 
upon  Lysimachus  said,  "  that  it  was  the  first  time 
that  he  ever  knew  a  whore  to  play  in  tragedy." 

198.  Themistocles  would  say  of  himself,  "That 
he  was  like  a  plane-tree,  that  in  tempests  men  fled 
to  him,  and  in  fair  weather  men  were  ever  crop 
ping  his  leaves." 

199.  Themistocles  said  of  speech,  "  That  it  was 
like  arras,  that  spread  abroad  shows  fair  images, 
but  contracted  is  but  like  packs." 

200.  Bresquet,  jester  to  Francis  the  First  of 
France,  did  keep  a  calendar  of  fools,  wherewith  he 
did  use  to  make  the  king  sport;  telling  him  ever 
the  reason  why  he  put  any  one  into  his  calendar. 
When  Charles  the  Fifth,  emperor,  upon  confidence 
of  the  noble  nature  of  Francis,  passed  through 
France,  for  the  appeasing  the  rebellion  of  Gaunt, 
Bresquet  put  him  into  his  calendar.     The  king 
asked  him  the  cause.      He  answered,  "  Because 
you   have  suffered  at  the  hands   of  Charles  the 
greatest    bitterness   that  ever    prince   did    from 
another,  nevertheless  he  would  trust  his  person 
into  your  hands."     "  Why,  Bresquet,"  said  the 
king,  "what  wilt  thou  say,  if  thou  seesthim  pass 
back  in  as  great  safety  as  if  he  marched  through 
the  midst  of  Spain  !"     Saith  Bresquet;  "Why, 
then  I  will  put  him  out,  and  put  you  in." 

201.  Lewis  the  Eleventh  of  France,   having 
much  abated  the  greatness  and  power  of  the  peers, 
nobility,  and  court  of  parliament,  would  say,  "  That 
he  had  brought  the  crown  out  of  ward." 

202.  Sir  Fulk  Grevil,  in  parliament,  when  the 
Lower  House,  in  a  great  business  of  the  queen's, 
stood  much  upon   precedents,   said    unto   them, 
"  Why  do  you  stand  so  much  upon  precedents  1 
The  times  hereafter  will  be  good  or  bad.     If  good, 
precedents  will  do  no  harm  ;  if  bad,  power  will 
make  a  way  where  it  finds  none." 

203.  When  peace  was  renewed  with  the  French 
in  England,  divers  of  the  great  counsellors  were 
presented  from  the  French  with  jewels  :  the  Lord 
Henry  Howard,  being  then  Earl  of  Northampton, 
and  a  counsellor,  was  omitted.     Whereupon  the 
king  said  to  him,  "  My  lord,  how  happens  it  that 
you  have  not  a  jewel  as  well  as  the  rest  1"     My 
lord  answered,  according  to  the  fable  in  yEsop 
"  Non  sum  Gallus,  itaque  non  reperi  gemmam.' 

204.  An  orator  of  Athens  said  to  Demosthenes 
"  The  Athenians  will  kill  you  if  they  wax  mad.' 
Demosthenes  replied,  "And  they  will  kill  you  if 
they  be  in  good  sense." 

205.  Alexander  sent  to  Phocion  a  great  pre 
sent  of  money.     Phocion  said  to  the  messenger, 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


119 


"  Why  doth  the  king  send  to  me  and  to  none 
else?"  The  messenger  answered,  "Because  he 
takes  you  to  be  the  only  good  man  in  Athens." 
Phocion  replied,  "  If  he  thinks  so,  pray  let  him 
suffer  me  to  be  so  still." 

206.  Cosmus,  Duke  of  Florence,  was  wont  to 
say  of  perfidious  friends,  "  that  we  read  that  we 
ought  to  forgive  our  enemies ;  but  we  do  not  read 
that  we  ought  to  forgive  our  friends." 

207.  jEneas  Sylvius,  that  was  Pope  Pius  Se- 
cundus,  was  wont  to  say  ;  that  the  former  popes 
did  wisely  set  the  lawyers  on  work  to  debate, 
whether  the  donation  of  Constantino  the  Great  to 
Sylvester,  of  St.  Peter's  patrimony,  were  good 
and  valid  in  law  or  no  ?  the  better  to  skip  over  the 
matter  in  fact,  whether  there  were  ever  any  such 
thing  at  all  or  no. 

208.  At  a  banquet  where  those  that  were  called 
the  seven  wise  men  of  Greece  were  invited  by  the 
ambassador  of  a  barbarous  king;  the  ambassador 
related  that  there  was  a  neighbour  mightier  than 
his  master,  picked  quarrels  with  him,  by  making 
impossible  demands,  otherwise  threatening  war; 
and  now  at  that  present  had  demanded  of  him,  to 
drink  up  the  sea.     Whereunto  one  of  the  wise 
men  said,   "  I  would  have  him  undertake    it." 
"  Why,"  saith  the  ambassador,  "  how  shall  he 
come  off?"     "  Thus,"  saith  the  wise  man :  "  let 
that  king  first  stop  the  rivers  which  run  into  the 
sea,  which  are  no  part  of  the  bargain,  and  then 
your  master  will  perform  it." 

209.  At  the  same  banquet,  the  ambassador  de 
sired  the  seven,  and  some  other  wise  men  that 
were  at  the  banquet,  to  deliver  every  one  of  them 
some  sentence  or  parable,  that  he  might  report  to 
his  king  the  wisdom  of  Gragcia,  which  they  did  ; 
only  one  was  silent;  which  the  ambassador  per 
ceiving,  said  to  him, "  Sir,  let  it  not  displease  you ; 
why  do  not  you  say  somewhat  that  I  may  report  1" 
He  answered,  "  Report  to  your  lord,  that  there  are 
of  the  Grecians  that  can  hold  their  peace." 

210.  One  of  the   Romans  said  to  his  friend, 
"  What  think  you  of  one  who  was  taken  in  the  act 
and  manner  of  adultery  I"     The  other  answered, 
"  Marry,  I  think  he  was  slow  at  despatch." 

211.  Lycurgus  would  say  of  divers  of  the  heroes 
of  the  heathen,  "That  he  wondered   that  men 
should  mourn  upon  their  days  for  them  as  mortal 
men,  and  yet  sacrifice  to  them  as  gods." 

212.  A  Papist  being  opposed  by  a  Protestant, 
« that  they  had  no  Scripture  for  images,"  answer 
ed,  "  Yes  ;  for  you  read  that  the  people  laid  their 
sick  in  the  streets,  that  the  shadow  of  saint  Peter 
might  come  upon  them  ;  and  that  a  shadow  was 
an  image,  and  the  obscurest  of  all  images." 

213.  There  is  an  ecclesiastical  writer   of  the 
Papists,  to  prove  antiquity  of  confession  in  the 
form  that  it  now  is,  doth  note,  in  very  ancient 
times,  even  in  the  primitive  times,  amongst  other 
foul  slanders  spread  against  the  Christians,  one 
was,  "  That  they   did   adore  the   genitories  of 


their  priests.  Which,  he  saith,  grew  from  the 
posture  of  the  confessant,  and  the  priest  in  confes 
sion  ;  which  is,  that  the  confessant  kneels  down, 
before  the  priest  sitting  in  a  chair  raised  above 
him." 

214.  Epaminondas,  when  his  great  friend  and 
colleague  in  war  was  suitor  to  him  to  pardon  an 
offender,  denied  him;  afterwards,  when  a  concu 
bine  of  his  made  the  same  suit,  he  granted  it  to 
her ;  which  when  Pelopidas  seemed  to  take  un 
kindly,  he  said,  "  Such  suits  are  to  be  granted  to 
whores,  but  not  to  personages  of  worth." 

215.  The  Lacedaemonians  had   in   custom  to 
speak  very  short,  which  being  an  empire,  they 
might  do  at  pleasure  :  but  after  their  defeat  at 
Leuctra,  in  an   assembly  of  the  Grecians,  they 
made   a  long  invective   against   Epaminondas ; 
who  stood  up,  and  said  no  more  than  this  ;  "  I 
am  glad  we  have  taught  you  to  speak  long." 

216.  Fabricius,  in  conference  with  Pyrrhus,was 
tempted  to  revolt  to  him ;  Pyrrhus  telling  him, 
that  he  should  be  partner  of  his   fortunes,   and 
second  person  to  him.     But  Fabricius  answered, 
in  a  scorn,  to  such  a  motion,  "  Sir,  that  would  not 
be  good  for  yourself :  for  if  the   Epirotes   once 
knew  me,  they  will  rather  desire  to  be  governed 
by  me  than  by  you." 

217.  Fabius  Maximus  being  resolved  to  draw 
the  war  in  length,  still  waited  upon  Hannibal's 
progress  to  curb  him  ;  and  for  that  purpose  he  en 
camped  upon  the  high  ground  ;  but  Terentius  his 
colleague  fought  with  Hannibal,  and  was  in  great 
peril  of  overthrow  ;  but  then  Fabius  came  down 
from  the  high  grounds,  and  got  the  day.     Where 
upon  Hannibal  said,  "  that  he  did  ever  think  that 
that  same  cloud  that  hanged  upon  the  hills  would 
at  one  time  or  other  give  a  tempest." 

-  218.  There  was  a  cowardly  Spanish  soldier, 
that  in  a  defeat  the  Moors  gave,  ran  away  with 
the  foremost.  Afterwards,  when  the  army  gene 
rally  fled,  the  soldier  was  missing.  Whereupon 
it  was  said  by  some,  that  he  was  slain.  "  No  sure," 
said  one,  "  he  is  alive  ;  for  the  Moors  eat  no  hare's 
flesh." 

219.  Hannothe  Carthaginian  was  sent  commis 
sioner  by  the  state,  after  the  second  Carthaginian 
war  to  Rome,  to  supplicate  for  peace,  and  in  the 
end  obtained  it:  yet  one  of  the  sharper  senators  said, 
"  You  have  often  broken  with  us  the  peaces  where- 
unto  you  have  been  sworn ;  I  pray,  by  what  gods 
will  you  swear  T"  Hanno  answered,  "  By  the  same 
gods  that  have  punished  the  former  perjury  so  se 
verely." 

220.  Thales  being  asked  when  a  man  should 
marry,  said ;  "  Young  men  not  yet,  old  men  not 
at  all." 

221.  Thales  said,  "  that  life  and  death  were  all 
one."     One  that  was  present  asked  him,  "  "W  hy 
do  not  you  die  then "?"  Thales  said  again,  "Because 
they  are  all  one." 

222.  Caesar,  after  first  he  had  possessed  Rome. 


120 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


Pompey  being  fled,  offered  to  enter  the  sacred 
treasury  to  take  the  moneys  that  were  there 
stored ;  and  Metellus,  tribune  of  the  people,  did 
forbid  him  :  and  when  Metellus  was  violent  in  it, 
and  would  not  desist,  Cassar  turned  to  him,  and 
said  ;  "  Presume  no  farther,  or  I  will  lay  you 
dead."  And  when  Metellus  was  with  those 
words  somewhat  astonished,  Caesar  added, 
"  Young  man,  it  had  been  easier  for  me  to  do 
this  than  to  speak  it." 

223.  An  ./Egyptian  priest  having  conference 
with  Solon,  said  to  him  :  "  You  Grecians  are  ever 
children ;   you  have  no  knowledge  of  antiquity, 
nor  antiquity  of  knowledge." 

224.  The  council  did  make  remonstrance  unto 
Queen  Elizabeth   of  the   continual   conspiracies 
against  her  life;  and  namely  of  a  late  one  :  and 
showed  her  a  rapier  taken  from  a  conspirator  that 
had  a  false  shape,  being  of  brown  paper,  but  gilt 
over  as  it  could  not  be  known  from  a  shape  of 
metal,  which  was  devised  to  the  end  that,  with 
out  drawing  it,  the  rapier  might  give  a  stab  ;  and 
upon  this  occasion  advised   her  that  she  should 
go  less  abroad  to  take  the  air  weekly,  unaccom 
panied,  as  she  used.     But  the  queen  answered  ; 
'"  That  she  had  rather  be  dead,  than  put  in  cus 
tody." 

225.  Chilon  would  say,  "That  gold  was  tried 
with  the  touchstone,  and  men  with  gold." 

226.  Zelim  was  the  first  of  the  Ottomans  that 
did  shave  his  beard,  whereas   his   predecessors 
wore  it  long.     One  of  his  bashaws  asked  him, 
Why  he  altered  the  custom  of  his  predecessors  '? 
He  answered,  "  Because  you  bashaws  may  not 
lead  me  by  the  beard,  as  you  did  them." 

227.  Diogenes  was   one   day  in   the   market 
place   with   a   candle   in   his   hand ;   and  being 
asked,  "  What  he  sought?"  he  said,  "  He  sought 
a  man." 

228.  Bias  being  asked,  how  a  man  should  order 
his  life,  answered,  "As  if  a  man  should  live  long, 
or  die  quickly." 

229.  Queen  Elizabeth  was  entertained  by  my 
Lord  Burleigh  at  Theobald's :  and  at  her  going 
away,  my  lord  obtained  of  the  queen  to  make  seven 
knights.     They  were  gentlemen  of  the  country, 
of  my  lord's  friends  and  neighbours.     They  were 
placed  in  a  rank,  as  the  queen  should  pass  by  the 
hall,  and  to  win  antiquity  of  knighthood,  in  order, 
as   my  lord  favoured ;   though   indeed  the  more 
principal   gentlemen  were   placed  lowest.     The 
queen  was  told  of  it,  and  said  nothing  :  but  when 
she  went  along,  she  passed  them  all  by,  as  far  as 
the  screen,  as  if  she  had  forgot  it ;  and  when  she 
came  to  the  screen,  she  seemed  to  take  herself 
with  the  manner,  and  said,  "  I  had  almost  forgot 
what  I  promised."     With  that  she  turned  back, 
and  knighted  the   lowest  first,  and   so  upward. 
Whereupon  Mr.  Stanhope,  of  the  privy-chamber, 
awhile  after  told  her ;  "  Your  majesty  was  too  fine 
for  my  Lord  Burleigh,"     She  answered ;  "  I  have 


but  fulfilled  the  Scripture ;  '  the  first  shall  be  last, 
and  the  last  first.'  " 

230.  Simonides  being  asked  of  Hiero,  "  what 
he  thought  of  God  ?"  asked  a  seven-night's  time 
to  consider  of  it  ;  and  at  the  seven-night's  end  he 
asked  a  fortnight's  time ;  at  the  fortnight's  end,  a 
nonth.     At  which  Hiero  marvelling,  Simonides 
answered  ;  "  that  the  longer  he  thought  upon  the 
matter,  the  more  difficult  he  found  it." 

231.  Anacharsis,  would  say,  concerning  the  po 
pular  estates  of  Grsecia,  that  "  he  wondered  how 
at  Athens  wise  men  did  propose,  and  fools  did 
dispose." 

232.  Solon    compared   the   people    unto    the 
sea,  and  orators  to  the  winds :  for  that  the  sea 
would  be  calm  and  quiet,  if  the  winds  did  not 
trouble  it. 

233.  Socrates  was  pronounced  by  the  oracle  of 
Delphos  to  be  the  wisest  man  of  Greece,  which 
he  would  put  from  himself  ironically,  saying, 

'  there  would  be  nothing  in  him  to  verify  the 
oracle,  except  this;  that  he  was  not  wise  and 
knew  it ;  and  others  were  not  wise,  and  knew  it 
not." 

234.  Cato  the  elder,  what  time  many  of  the 
Romans  had  statues  erected  in  their  honour,  was 
asked  by  one  in  a  kind  of  wonder,  "  Why  he  had 
none  ]"  He  answered,  "  He  had  much  rather  men 
should  ask  and  wonder  why  he  had  no  statue,  than 
why  he  had  a  statue." 

235.  Sir  Fulke  Grevil  had  much  private  access 
to  Queen  Elizabeth,  which  he  used  honourably,  and 
did  many  men  good ;  yet  he  would  say  merrily 
of  himself,  "  That  he  was  like  Robin  Goodfellow  ; 
for  when  the  maids  spilt  the  milkpans,  or  kept 
any  racket,  they  would  lay  it  upon  Robin ;  so  what 
tales  the  ladies  about  the  queen  told  her,  or  other 
bad  offices  that  they  did,  they  would  put  it  upon 
him." 

236.  Socrates,  when  there  was  showed  him  the 
book  of  Heraclitus  the  Obscure,  and  was  asked 
his  opinion  of  it,  answered,  "Those  things  that  I 
understood  were  excellent,  I   imagine   so  were 
those  that  I  understood  not ;  but  they  require  a 
diver  of  Delos." 

237.  Bion  asked  an  envious  man  that  was  very 
sad,  "  What  harm  had  befallen  unto  him,  or  what 
good  had  befallen  unto  another  man '?" 

238.  Stilpo  the  philosopher,  when  the  people 
flocked   about  him,  and  that  one  said   to   him, 
"The  people  come  wondering  about  you  as  if  it 
were  to  see  some  strange  beast!"     "No,"  saith 
he,  "  it  is  to  see  a  man  which  Diogenes  sought 
with  his  lantern." 

239.  Antisthenes    being  asked   of   one   what 
learning  was  most  necessary  for  man's  life  1  an 
swered  ;  "To  unlearn  that  which  is  naught." 

240.  There  was  a  politic  sermon,  that  had  no 
divinity  in  it,  was  preached  before  the  king.    The 
king,  as  he  came  forth,  said  to  Bishop  Andrews; 
"Call  you  this  a  sermon1?"     The  bishop  an- 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


swered,  "And  it  please  your  majesty,  by  a  cha 
ritable  construction,  it  may  be  a  sermon." 

241.  Bishop  Andrews  was  asked  at  the  first 
coming  over  of  the  Archbishop  of  Spalato,  whe 
ther  he  were  a  protestant  or  no  ?     He  answered, 
"  Truly  I  know  not :  but  he  is  a  detestant  of 
divers  opinions  of  Rome." 

242.  Caius  Marius  was  general  of  the  Romans 
against  the  Cimbers,  who  came  with  such  a  sea 
of  multitude  upon  Italy.     In  the  fight  there  was 
a  band  of  the.Cadurcians  of  a  thousand,  that  did 
notable  service  ;  whereupon,  after  the  fight,  Ma 
rius  did  denison  them  all  for  citizens  of  Rome, 
though  there  was  no  law  to  warrant  it.     One  of 
his  friends  did  represent  it  unto  him, .that  he  had 
transgressed  the  law,  because  that  privilege  was 
not  to  be  granted  but  by  the  people.     Whereto 
Marius  answered,  "That  for  the  noise  of  arms  he 
could  not  hear  the  laws." 

243.  jEneas  Sylvius  would  say,  that  the  Chris 
tian  faith  and  law,  though  it  had  not  been  con 
firmed  by  miracles,  yet  was  worthy  to  be  received 
for  the  honesty  thereof. 

244.  Henry  Noel  would  say,  "  That  courtiers 
were  like  fasting-days  ;  they  were  next  the  holy- 
days,   but  in   themselves   they   were   the    most 
meager  days  of  the  week." 

245.  Mr.  Bacon  would  say,  that  it  was  in  bu 
siness,  as  it  is  frequently  in  ways :  that  the  next 
way  is  commonly  the  foulest ;  and  that  if  a  man 
will  go  the  fairest  way,  he  must  go  somewhat 
ab  out. 

246.  Augustus    Caesar,  out  of  great   indigna 
tion  against  his  two  daughters,  and  Posthumus 
Agrippa,  his  grandchild ;  whereof  the  first  two 
were  infamous,  and  the  last  otherwise  unworthy, 
would  say,  "That  they  were  not  his  seed,  but 
some  imposthumes  that  had  broken  from  him." 

247.  Cato  said,  "The  best  way  to  keep  good 
acts  in  memory,  was  to  refresh  them  with  new." 

248.  Pompey  did  consummate  the  war  against 
Sertorius,  when  Metellus  had  brought  the  enemy 
somewhat  low.    He  did  also  consummate  the  war 
against  the  fugitives,  whom  Crassus  had  before 
defeated  in  a  great  battle.     So  when  Lucullus  had 
had  great  and  glorious  victories  against  Mithri- 
dates  and  Tigranes ;  yet  Pompey,  by  means  his 
friends  made,  was  sent  to  put  an  end  to  that  war. 
Whereupon  Lucullus  taking  indignation,  as  a  dis 
grace  offered  to  himself,  said,  "  that  Pompey  was 
a  carrion  crow  :  when  others  had  strucken  down 
bodies,  then  he  came  to  prey  upon  them." 

249.  Diogenes  when  mice  came  about  him  as 
he  was  eating,  said,  "  I  see,  that  even  Diogenes 
nourisheth  parasites." 

250.  Epictetus  used  to  say,  "  That  one  of  the 
vulgar,  in  any  ill  that  happens  to  him,  blames 
others ;  a  novice  in  philosophy  blames  himself; 
and  a  philosopher  blames  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other," 

251.  Hiero  visited  by  Pythagoras,  asked  him, 
VOL.  I — 16 


of  what  condition  he  was  1  Pythagoras  answered, 
"Sir,  I  know  you  have  been  at  the  Olympian 
games."  "Yes,"  saith  Hiero.  "Thither," 
saith  Pythagoras,  "come  some  to  win  the  prizes. 
Some  come  to  sell  their  merchandise,  because  it 
is  a  kind  of  mart  of  all  Greece.  Some  come  to 
meet  their  friends,  and  to  make  merry ;  because 
of  the  great  confluence  of  all  sorts.  Others  come 
only  to  look  on.  I  am  one  of  them  that  come  to 
look  on."  Meaning  it,  of  philosophy,  and  the 
contemplative  life. 

252.  Mr.  Bettenham  used  to  say,  that  riches 
were  like  muck  ;  when  it  lay  in  a  heap  it  gave 
but  a  stench  and  ill  odour,  but  when  it  was  spread 
upon  the  ground,  then  it  was  cause  of  much  fruit. 

253.  The  same  Mr.  Bettenham  said  that  vir 
tuous  men  were  like  some  herbs  and  spices,  that 
give  not  their  sweet  smell,  till  they  be  broken  and 
crushed. 

254.  There  was  a  painter  became  a  physician ; 
whereupon  one  said  to  him,   "  You  have  done 
well;  for  before  the  faults  of  your  work  were 
seen ;  but  now  they  are  unseen." 

255.  One   of   the    philosophers    was    asked, 
"what  a  wise  man  differed  from  a  fool?"     He 
answered,  "  Send  them  both  naked  to  those  that 
know  them  not,  and  you  shall  perceive." 

256.  Caesar,  in  his  book  that  he  made  against 
Cato,  which  is  lost,  did  write,  to  show  the  force 
of  opinion  and  reverence  of  a  man  that  had  once 
obtained  a  popular  reputation  :  "  That  there  were 
some   that  found    Cato   drunk,   and   they  were 
ashamed  instead  of  Cato." 

257.  Aristippus,  sailing  in  a  tempest,  showed 
signs  of  fear.     One  of  the  seamen  said  to  him, 
in  an  insulting  manner,  "  We  that  are  plebeians 
are  not  troubled ;  you  that  are  a  philosopher  are 
afraid."    Aristippus  answered,  "that  there  is  not 
the   like  wager  upon   it,  for  me  to   perish  and 
you." 

258.  There  was  an  orator  that  defended  a  cause 
of   Aristippus,   and   prevailed.      Afterwards   he 
asked  Aristippus,  "  Now,  in  your  distress,  what 
did   Socrates   do    you   good1?"      Aristippus   an 
swered,  "  Thus,  in  making  true  that  good  which 
you  said  of  me." 

259.  Aristippus  said,  "  He  took  money  of  his 
friends,  not  so  much  to  use  it  himself,  as  to  teach 
them  how  to  bestow  their  money." 

260.  A  strumpet  said  to  Aristippus,  "  That  she 
was  with  child  by  him:"  he  answered,  "You 
know  that  no  more  than  if  you  went  through  a 
hedge   of   thorns,   you   could    say,   This    thorn 
pricked  me." 

261.  The  Lady  Paget,  that  was  very  private 
with   Queen   Elizabeth,   declared   herself  much 
against  her  match  with  Monsieur.     After  Mon 
sieur's  death,  the  queen  took  extreme  grief,  at 
least  as  she  made  show,  and  kept  within  her  bed 
chamber  and  one  ante-chamber  for  three  weeks' 
space,  in  token  of  mourning ;  at  last  she  came 


122 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


forth  into  her  privy-chamber,  and  admitted  he 
ladies  to  hare  access  unto  her,  and  amongst  the 
rest  my  Lady  Paget  presented  herself,  and  came 
to  her  with  a  smiling  countenance.  The  queer 
bent  her  brows,  and  seemed  to  be  highly  dis 
pleased,  and  said  to  her,  "  Madam,  you  are  no 
ignorant  of  my  extreme  grief,  and  do  you  come 
to  me  with  a  countenance  of  joy1?"  My  Lad] 
Paget  answered,  "Alas,  and  it  please  your  ma 
jesty,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  be  absent  fron 
you  three  weeks,  but  that  when  I  see  you,  I  mus 
look  cheerfully."  "  No,  no,"  said  the  queen,  no 
forgetting  her  former  averseness  to  the  match 
"you  have  some  other  conceit  in  it,  tell  me 
plainly."  My  lady  answered,  "  I  must  obey 
you :  it  is  this,  I  was  thinking  how  happy  your 
majesty  was,  in  that  you  married  not  Monsieur ; 
for  seeing  you  take  such  thought  for  his  death, 
being  but  your  friend  ;  if  he  had  been  your  hus 
band,  sure  it  would  have  cost  you  your  life." 

262.  Sir  Edward  Dyer,  a  grave  and  wise  gen 
tleman,  did  much  believe  in  Kelly  the  alchemist, 
that  he  did  indeed  the  work,  and  made  gold  :  inso 
much  that  he  went  into  Germany,  where  Kelly 
then  was,  to  inform  himself  fully  thereof.  After 
his  return,  he  dined  with  my  lord  of  Canter 
bury,  where  at  that  time  was  at  the  table  Dr. 
Brown  the  physician.  They  fell  in  talk  of 
Kelly.  Sir  Edward  Dyer,  turning  to  the  arch 
bishop  said,  "I  do  assure  your  grace,  that  that 
I  shall  tell  you  is  truth,  I  am  an  eyewitness 
thereof;  and  if  I  had  not  seen  it,  I  should  not 
have  believed  it.  I  saw  Master  Kelly  put  of  the 
base  metal  into  the  crucible ;  and  after  it  was  set 
a  little  upon  the  fire,  and  a  very  small  quantity 
of  the  medicine  put  in,  and  stirred  with  a  stick 
of  wood,  it  came  forth  in  great  proportion,  per 
fect  gold ;  to  the  touch,  to  the  hammer,  to  the 
test."  My  lord  archbishop  said,  "  You  had  need 
take  heed  what  you  say,  Sir  Edward  Dyer,  for 
here  is  an  infidel  at  the  board."  Sir  Edward 
Dyer  said  again  pleasantly,  "  I  would  have  looked 
for  an  infidel  sooner  in  any  place  than  at  your 
grace's  table."  "What  say  you,  Dr.  Brown1?" 
saith  the  bishop.  Dr.  Brown  answered,  after 
his  blunt  and  huddling  manner,  "The  gentle 
man  hath  spoken  enough  for  me."  "Why," 
saith  the  bishop,  "  what  hath  he  said  ?"  "  Marry," 
saith  Dr.  Brown,  "  he  said,  he  would  not  have 
believed  it,  except  he  had  seen  it,  and  no  more 
will  I." 

263.  Democritus  said,  "That  truth  did  lie  in 
profound  pits,  and  when  it  was  got,  it  needed 
much  refining." 

264.  Doctor  Johnson  said  that  in  sickness  there 
were  three  things  that  were  material ;  the  physi 
cian,  the  disease,  and  the  patient :  and  if  any  two 
of  these  joined,  then  they  have  the  victory;  for, 
"  Ne   Hercules  quidem  contra  duos."      If  the 
physician  and  the  patient  join,  then  down  goes 


the  disease,  for  the  patient  recovers  :  if  the  phy 
sician  and  the  disease  join,  then  down  goes  the 
patient,  that  is  where  the  physician  mistakes  the 
case  :  if  the  patient  and  the  disease  join,  then 
down  goes  the  physician,  for  he  is  discredited. 

265.  Alexander  visited   Diogenes  in  his  tub, 
and  when  he  asked  him  what  he  would  desire  of 
him  ?     Diogenes  answered,   "  That  you  would 
stand  a  little  aside,  that  the  sun  may  come  to 
me." 

266.  Diogenes  said  of  a  young  man  that  danced 
daintily,  and  was  much  commended,  "  The  bet 
ter,  the  worse." 

267.  Diogenes  called  an  ill  musician,   Cock. 
"Why1?"  saith  he.     Diogenes  answered ;  "Be 
cause  when  you  crow,  men  use  to  rise." 

268.  Heraclitus  the  Obscure  said;  "The  dry 
light  was  the  best  soul :"  meaning,  when  the  fa 
culties  intellectual  are  in  vigour,  not  wet,  nor,  as 
it  were,  blooded  by  the  affections. 

269.  There  was  in  Oxford  a  cowardly  fellow 
that  was   a  very  good   archer;  he  was   abused 
grossly  by  another,  and  moaned  himself  to  Wal 
ter  Raleigh,  then  a  scholar,  and  asked  his  advice 
what  he  should  do  to  repair  the  wrong  had  been 
offered  him  ;   Raleigh   answered,    "  Why,  chal 
lenge  him  at  a  match  of  shooting." 

270.  Whitehead,  a   grave  divine,   was  much 
esteemed  by  Queen  Elizabeth,  but  not  preferred, 
aecause  he  was  against  the  government  of  bishops. 
He  was  of  a  blunt  stoical  nature :  he  came  ono 
day  to  the  queen,  and  the  queen  happened  to  say 
;o  him,  "  I  like  thee  the  better,  Whitehead,  be 
cause   thou   livest    unmarried."      He   answered 
again,  "  In  troth,  madam,  I  like  you  the  worse 

or  the  same  cause." 

271.  There  was  a  nobleman  that  was  lean  of 
dsage,  but  immediately  after  his  marriage  he  grew 
)retty  plump  and  fat.     One  said  to  him,  "  Your 
ordship  doth  contrary  to  other  married  men  ;  for 
hey  at  the  first  wax  lean,  and  you  wax  fat."  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  stood  by,  and  said,  "  Why,  there 
s  no  beast,  that  if  you  take  him  from  the  com- 
non,  and  put  him  into  the  several,  but  he  will 
wax  fat." 

272.  Diogenes  seeing  one,  that  was  a  bastard, 
asting  stones  among  the  people,  bade  him  take 
teed  he  hit  not  his  father. 

273.  Dr.   Laud  said,  "  that  some  hypocrites 
and  seeming  mortified  men,  that  held  down  their 

eads  like  bulrushes,  were  like  the  little  images 
hat  they  place  in  the  very  bowing  of  the  vaults 
>f  churches,  that  look  as  if  they  held  up  the 
;hurch,  but  are  but  puppets." 

274.  It  was  said  among  some  of  the  grave  pre- 
ates  of  the  council  of  Trent,  in  which  the  school- 
ivines  bore  the  sway ;  that  the  schoolmen  were 
ike  the  astronomers,  who,  to  save  the  phaeno- 
nena,  framed  to  their  conceit  eccentrics  and  epi- 
ycles,  and  a  wonderful  engine  of  orbs,  though  no 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


123 


such  things  were  :  so  they,  to  save  the  practice 
of  the  church,  had  devised  a  number  of  strange 
positions. 

275.  It  was  also  said  by  many  concerning  the 
canons  of  that  council,  "That  we  are  beholden  to 
Aristotle  for  many  articles  of  our  faith." 

276.  The  Lo.  Henry  Howard,  being  lord  privy- 
seal,  was  asked  by  the  king  openly  at  the  table, 
where  commonly  he  entertained  the  king,  upon 
the  sudden,  "  My  lord,  have  you  not  a  desire  to 
see  Rome ?"  My  lord  privy-seal  answered,  "  Yes, 
indeed,  sir."    The  king  said,  "  And  why  1"    My 
lord  answered,  "  Because,  and  it  please  your  ma 
jesty,  it  was  once  the  seat  of  the  greatest  mo 
narchy,  and  the  seminary  of  the  bravest  men  of 
the  world,  amongst  the  heathen  :  and  then  again, 
because  after  it  was  the  see  of  so  many  holy 
bishops  in  the  primitive  church,  most  of  them 
martyrs."     The  king  would  not  give  it  over,  but 
said,  "  And  for  nothing  else  1"      My  lord   an 
swered,  "Yes,  and  it  please  your  majesty,  for 
two  things  especially :  the  one  to  see  him,  who, 
they  say,  hath  so  great  a  power  to  forgive  other 
men  their  sins,  to  confess  his  own  sins  upon  his 
knees  before  a  chaplain  or  priest;  and  the  other 
to  hear  Antichrist  say  his  creed." 

277.  There  was  a  nobleman  said  of  a  great 
counsellor,  "  that  he  would  have  made  the  worst 
farrier  in  the  world  ;  for  he  never  shod  horse  but 
he  cloyed  him :  so  he  never  commended  any  man 
to  the  king  for  service,  or  upon  occasion  of  suit, 


or  otherwise,  but  that  he  would  come  in,  in  the 
end  with  a  but,  and  drive  in  a  nail  to  his  disad 
vantage." 

278.  There  was  a  lady  of  the  west  country, 
that  gave  great  entertainment  at  her  house  to  most 
of  the  gallant  gentlemen  thereabout,  and  amongst 
others  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  was  one.     This  lady, 
though  otherwise  a  stately  dame,  was  a  notable 
good  housewife ;  and  in  the  morning  betimes  she 
called  to  one  of  her  maids  that  looked   to  the 
swine,  and  asked,  "  Is  the  piggy  served  ?"     Sir 
Walter  Raleigh's  chamber  was  fast  by  the  lady's, 
so  as  he  heard  her.   A  little  before  dinner,  the  lady 
came  down  in  great  state  into  the  great  chamber, 
which  was  full  of  gentlemen :  and  as  soon  as  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  set  eye  upon  her,  "Madam," 
saith  he,  "Is  the  piggy  served  ?"     The  lady  an 
swered,  "You  best  know  whether  you  have  had 
your  breakfast." 

279.  There  was  a  gentleman  fell  very  sick,  and 
a  friend  of  his  said  to  him,  "  Surely,  you  are  in 
danger ;  I  pray  send  for  a  physician."     But  the 
sick  man  answered,  "  It  is  no  matter,  for  if  I  die, 
I  will  die  at  leisure." 

280.  There  was  an  Epicurean   vaunted,   that 
divers  of  other  sects  of  philosophers  did  after  turn 
Epicureans ;  but  there  was  never  any  Epicureans 
that  turned   to  any  other  sect.     Whereupon  a 
philosopher  that  was  of  another  sect  said,  "The 
reason  was  plain ;  for  that  cocks  may  be  made 
capons,  but  capons  could  never  be  made  cocks." 


CERTAIN   APOPHTHEGMS 

OF  THE 

LORD  BACON'S. 

FIRST     PUBLISHED     IN     THE     "BACONIAN  A." 


1.  PLUTARCH  said  well,  "It  is  otherwise  in  a 
commonwealth  of  men  than  of  bees  :  the  hive  of 
a  city  or  kingdom  is  in  best  condition  when  there 
is  least  of  noise  or  buz  in  it." 

2.  The  same  Plutarch  said  of  men  of  weak 
abilities  set  in  great  place,  "That  they  were  like 
little  statues  set  on  great  bases,  made  to  appear 
the  less  by  their  advancement." 

3.  He  said   again,  "Good  fame  is  like  fire. 
When  you  have  kindled  it,  you  may  easily  pre 
serve  it ;  but  if  once  you  extinguish  it,  you  will 
not  easily  kindle  it  again ;  at  least,  not  make  it 
burn  as  bright  as  it  did." 

4.  The  answer  of  Apollonius  to  Vespasian  is 


full  of  excellent  *  instruction :  Vespasian  asked 
him,  "What  was  Nero's  overthrow?"  He  an 
swered,  "  Nero  could  touch  and  tune  the  harp 
well ;  but  in  government  sometimes  he  used  to 
wind  the  pins  too  high,  sometimes  to  let  them 
down  too  low."  And  certain  it  is,  that  nothing 
destroyeth  authority  so  much  as  the  unequal  and 
untimely  interchange  of  power  pressed  too  far, 
and  relaxed  too  much. 

5.  Queen  Elizabeth,  seeing  Sir  Edward 

in  her  garden,  looked  out  at  her  window,  and 
asked  him  in  Italian,  "  What  does  a  man  think 
of  when  he  thinks  of  nothing?"  Sir  Edward, 

*  This  apophthegm  is  also  found  in  his  Essay  of  Empire. 


124 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


who  had  not  had  the  effect  of  some  of  the  queen's 
grants  so  soon  as  he  had  hoped  and  desired, 
paused  a  little ;  and  then  made  answer,  "  Madam, 
he  thinks  of  a  woman's  promise."  The  queen 
shrunk  in  her  head ;  hut  was  heard  to  say,  "  Well, 
Sir  Edward,  I  must  not  confute  you."  Anger 
makes  dull  men  witty,  but  it  keeps  them  poor. 

6.  When  any  great  officer,   ecclesiastical   or 
civil,  was  to  be  made,  the  queen  would  inquire 
after  the  piety,  integrity,  learning  of  the  man. 
And  when  she  was  satisfied  in  these  qualifica 
tions,  she  would  consider  of  his  personage.    And 
iipon  such  an  occasion  she  pleased  once  to  say  to 
me,  "  Bacon,  how  can  the  magistrate  maintain 
his  authority  when  the  man  is  despised  ']" 

7.  In  eighty-eight,  when  the  queen  went  from 
Temple-bar  along  Fleet-street,  the  lawyers  were 
ranked  on  one  side,  and  the  companies  of  the 
city  on  the  other  ;  said  Master  Bacon  to  a  lawyer 
that  stood  next  him,  "  Do  but  observe  the  courtiers ; 
if  they  bow  first  to  the  citizens,  they  are  in  debt ; 
if  first  to  us,  they  are  in  law." 

8.  King  James  was  wont  to  be  very  earnest 
with  the  country  gentlemen  to  go  from  London 
to  their  country   houses.      And    sometimes   he 
would  say  thus  to  them,  "  Gentlemen,  at  London 
you  are  like  ships  in  a  sea,  which  show  like  no 
thing  ;  but  in  your  country  villages  you  are  like 
ships  in  a  river,  which  look  like  great  things." 

9.  Soon  after  the  death  of  a  great  officer,  who 
was  judged  no  advancer  of  the  king's  matters,  the 
king  said  to  his  solicitor  Bacon,  who  was  his 
kinsman,  "  Now  tell  me  truly,  what  say  you  of 
your  cousin  that  is  gone  T'     Mr.  Bacon  answer 
ed,  "  Sir,  since  your  majesty  doth  charge  me,  I'll 
e'en  deal  plainly  with  you,  and  give  you  such  a 
character  of  him,  as  if  I  were  to  write  his  story. 
I  do  think  he  was  no  fit  counsellor  to  make  your 
affairs  better :  but  yet  he  was  fit  to  have  kept 
them  from   growing    worse."      The   king  said, 
"  On  my  so'l,  man,  in  the  first  thou  speakest  like 
a  true  man,  and  in  the  latter  like  a  kinsman." 

10.  King  James,  as  he  was  a  prince  of  great 
judgment,  so  he  was  a  prince  of  marvellous  plea 
sant  humour ;  and  there  now  come  into  my  mind 
two  instances  of  it.     As  he  was  going  through 
Lusen,   by  Greenwich,  he  asked  what  town   it 
was  1     The}7"   said,   Luscn.     He   asked  a  good 
\vhile  after,  "  What  town  is  this  we  are  now  in  ?" 
They  said  still,  'twas  Lusen.    "  On  my  so'l,"  said 
the  king,  "  I  will  be  king  of  Lusen." 

11.  In  some  other  of  his  progresses,  he  asked 
how  far  it  was  to  a  town  whose  name  I  have  for 
gotten.     They  said,  "Six  miles."     Half  anhour 
after,  he  asked  again.     One  said,  "  Six  miles  and 
an  half."     The  king  alighted  out  of  his  coach, 
and  crept  under  the  shoulder  of  his  led   horse, 
And  when  some  asked  his  majesty  what  he  meant  ] 
*'  I  must  stalk,"  said  he,  "  for  yonder  town  is 
ehy.  and  flies  me." 

12.  Count  Gondomar  sent  a  compliment  to  my 


Lord  St.  Albans,  wishing  him  a  good  Easter.  My 
lord  thanked  the  messenger,  and  said,  "  He  could 
not  at  present  requite  the  count  better  than  in  re 
turning  him  the  like ;  that  he  wished  his  lordship 
a  good  passover." 

13.  My  Lord  Chancellor  Elsmere,  when  he 
had  read  a  petition  which  he  disliked,  wrould  say, 
"  What,  you  would  have  my  hand  to  this  now  !" 
And  the  party  answering,  "  Yes ;"  he  would  say 
further,    "  Well,  so  you  shall  :  nay,   you   shall 
have  both  my  hands  to  it."     And  so  would,  with 
both  his  hands,  tear  it  in  pieces. 

14.  I  knew  a  wise  man,*  that  had  it  for  a  by 
word,  when  he  saw  men  hasten  to  a  conclusion, 
"  Stay  a  little   that  we  may  make  an  end   the 
sooner." 

15.  Sir  Francis  Bacon  was  wont  to  say  of  an 
angry  man  who  suppressed  his  passion,  "That 
he  thought  worse  than  he  spake ;"  and  of  an  angry 
man  that  would  chide,  "  That  he  spoke   wrorse 
than  he  thought." 

1G.  He  was  wont  also  to  say,  "  That  power  in 
an  ill  man  was  like  the  power  of  a  black  witch ; 
he  could  do  hurt  but  no  good  with  it."  And  he 
would  add,  "  That  the  magicians  could  turn  water 
into  blood,  but  could  not  turn  the  blood  again  to 
water." 

17.  When  Mr.  Attorney  Cook,  in  the  exchequer, 
gave  high  words  to  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  and  stood 
much  upon  his  higher  place  :  Sir  Francis  said  to 
him,  "  Mr.  Attorney,  the  less  you  speak  of  your 
own  greatness,  the  more  I  shall  think  of  it ;  and 
the  more,  the  less." 

18.  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  coming  into  the  Earl  of 
ArundePs  garden,  where  there  were  a  great  num 
ber  of  ancient  statues  of  naked  men  and  women, 
made  a  stand,  and,  as  astonished,  cried  out,  "  The 
resurrection." 

19.  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  who  was   always  for 
moderate  counsels,  \vhen  one  was  speaking  of 
such  a  reformation  of  the  Church  of  England,  as 
would  in  effect  make  it  no  church  ;  said  thus  to 
him,  "  Sir,  the  subject  we   talk  of  is  the  eye  of 
England  ;  and  if  there  be  a  speck  or  two  in  the 
eye,   we   endeavour  to    take    them   off,    but  he 
were   a  strange  oculist  who  would  pull   out  the 

e." 

20.  The  same  Sir  Francis  Bacon  was  wont  to 
say;  "That  those  who   left  useful  studies  for 
useless    scholastic    speculations,   were   like  the 
Olympic  gamesters,  who  abstained  from  necessary 
labours,  that  they  might  be  fit  for  such  as  were 
not  so." 

21.  He  likewise  often  used  this  comparison  :f 
"  The   empirical   philosophers   are  like   to   pis 
mires  ;  they  only  lay  up  and  use  their  store.     The 
rationalists  are  like  to  spiders ;  they  spin  all  out 
of  their  own  bowels.     But  give  me  a  philosopher, 

*  See  this  also  in  his  Essay  of  Despatch, 
f  See  the  substance  of  this  in  Nov.  Org.  ed.  Lugd.  Bat. 
p.  105,  and  Inter  Cogitata  et  Visa,  p.  53. 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


125 


who,  like  the  bee,  hath  a  middle  faculty,  gather 
ing  from  abroad,  but  digesting  that  which  is 
gathered  by  his  own  virtue." 

22.  The  Lord  St.  Alban,  who  was  not  over 
hasty  to  raise  theories,  but  proceeded  slowly  by 
experiments,  was  wont  to  say  to  some  philoso 
phers,  who  would  not  go  his  pace,  "  Gentlemen, 
nature  is  a  labyrinth,  in  which  the  very  haste  you 
move  with  will  make  you  lose  your  way." 

23.  The  same  lord,  when  he  spoke  of  the  Dutch 
men,  used  to  say,  "That  we  could  not  abandon 
them  for  our  safety,  nor  keep  them  for  our  profit." 
And  sometimes  he  would  express  the  same  sense 
on  this  manner ;  "  We  hold  the  Belgic  lion  by 
the  ears." 

24.  The  same  lord,  when  a  gentleman  seemed 
not  much  to  approve  of  his  liberality  to  his  retinue, 
said  to  him,  "  Sir,  I  am  all  of  a  piece  ;  if  the  head 


be  lifted  up,  the  inferior  parts  of  the  body  must 
too." 

25.  The  Lord  Bacon  was  wont  to  commend  the 
advice  of  the  plain  old  man  at  Buxton,  that  sold 
becoms  :  a  proud  lazy  young  fellow  came  to  him 
for  a  besom  upon  trust;  to  whom  the  old  man 
said,  "Friend,  hast  thou  no  money?    borrow  of 
thy  back,  and  borrow  of  thy  belly,  they'll  ne'er 
askthee  again,  I  shall  be  dunning  thee  every  day." 

26.  Solon*  said  well  to  Croesus,   (when  in  os 
tentation  he  showed  him  his  gold,)  "  Sir,  if  any 
other  come  that  has  better  iron  than  you,  he  will 
be  master  of  all  this  ffold." 

27.  Jack  Weeks  said  of  a  great  man,  just  then 
dead,  who  pretended  to  some  religion,  but  was 
none  of  the  best  livers,  "  Well,  I  hope  he  is  in 
heaven.     Every  man  thinks  as  he  wishes ;  but  if 
he  be  in  heaven,  'twere  pity  it  were  known." 


SPURIOUS    APOPHTHEGMS. 


1.  His  majesty  James  the  First,  King  of  Great 
Britain,  having  made   unto  his   Parliament  an 
excellent  and  large  declaration,  concluded  thus, 
"I  have  now  given  you  a  clear  mirror  of  my 
mind;   use  it  therefore  like  a  mirror;   and  take 
heed  how  you  let  it  fall,  or  how  you  soil  it  with 
your  breath." 

2.  His  majesty  said  to  his  Parliament  at  another 
time,  finding  there  were  some  causeless  jealousies 
sown  amongst  them ;    "  That  the  king  and  his 
people,  (whereof  the  Parliament  is  the  represen 
tative  body,)  were  as  husband   and  wife ;   and 
therefore,  that  of  all  other  things,  jealousy  was 
between  them  most  pernicious." 

3.  His  majesty,  when  he  thought  his  council 
misfht  note  in  him  some  variety  in  businesses, 
though  indeed  he  remained  constant,  would  say, 
»  That  the  sun  many  times  shineth  watery  ;  but 
it  is  not  the  sun  which  causeth  it,  but  some  cloud 
rising  betwixt  us  and  the  sun ;  and  when  that  is 
scattered  the  sun  is  as  it  was,  and  comes  to  his 
former  brightness." 

4.  His  majesty,  in  his  answer  to  the  book  of 
the  Cardinal  of  Evereux,  (who  had  in  a  grave 
argument  of  divinity  sprinlded  many  witty  orna 
ments   of  poesy  and   humanity,)    saith;   "That 
these  flowers  were  like  blue  and  yellow,  and  red 
flowers  in  the  corn,  which  make  a  pleasant  show 
to  those  that  look  on,  but  they  hurt  the  corn." 

5.  Sir  Edward  Cook,  being  vehement  against 
the  two   provincial  councils  of  Wales  and  the 
North,  said   to  the  king,    "There  was  nothing 
there  but  a  kind  of  confusion  and  hotch  potch  of 


justice;  one  while  they  were  a  Star  Chamber, 
another  while  a  King's  Bench,  another  a  common 
place,  another  a  Commission  of  Oyer  and  Ter- 
miner."  His  majesty  answered,  "Why,  Sir 
Edward  Cook,  they  be  like  houses  in  progress, 
where  I  have  not  nor  can  have  such  distinct 
rooms  of  state  as  I  have  here  at  Whitehall  or  at 
Hampton  Court." 

6.  The  commissioners  of  the  treasure  moved 
the  king  for  the  relief  of  his  estate,  to  disafforest 
some   forests  of  his,  explaining  themselves   of 
such  forests  as  lay  out  of  the  way,  not  near  any 
of  the  king's  houses,  nor  in  the  course  of  his  pro 
gress,  whereof  he  should  never  have  use  nor  plea 
sure.     "  Why,"  saith  the  king,  "  do  you  think 
that  Solomon  had  use  and  pleasure  of  all  his  three 
hundred  concubines." 

7.  His  majesty,  when  the  Committees  of  both 
Houses  of  Parliament  presented  unto  him  the 
instrument  of  Union  of  England  and  Scotland, 
was  merry  with  them ;  and  amongst  other  pleasant 
speeches  showed  unto  them  the  Laird  of  Law- 
riston,  a  Scotchman,  who  was  the  tallest  and 
greatest  man  that  was   to  be   seen,   and   said, 
"  Well,  now  we  are  all  one,  yet  none  of  you  will 
say  but  here  is  one  Scotchman  greater  than  any 
Englishman;"  which  was  an  ambiguous  speech; 
but  it  was  thought  he  meant  it  of  himself. 

8.  His  majesty  would  say  to  the  Lords  of  his 
Council,  when  they  sat  upon  any  great  matter, 
and  came  from  council   in  to  him,  "  Well,  you 
have  set,  but  what  have  you  hatcht!" 

*  See  this  in  his  Essay  of  the  True  Greatness  of  Kingdoms 
L2 


126 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


9.  Queen  Elizabeth  was  importuned  much  by 
my  Lord  of  Essex  to  supply  divers  great  offices 
that  had   been  long  void;   the  queen  answered 
nothing;  to  the  matter,  but  rose  up  on  the  sudden, 
and  said,  "  I  am  sure  my  office  will  not  be  long 
void."     And  yet  at  that  time  there  was  much 
speech  of  troubles  and  divisions  about  the  crown 
to  be  after  her  decease :  but  they  all  vanished,  and 
King  James  came  in  in  a  profound  peace. 

10.  King  Henry  the  Fourth  of  France  was  so 
punctual  of  his  word  after  it  was  once  passed, 
that  they  called  him  the  King  of  the  Faith. 

11.  The   said   King   Henry  the   Fourth  was 
moved  by  his  Parliament  to  a  war  against  the 
Protestants:  he  answered,  "Yes,  I  mean  it;  I 
will  make  every  one  of  you  captains  ;  you  shall 
have  companies  assigned  you."     The  Parliament 
observing   whereunto   his   speech  tended,   gave 
over,  and  deserted  his  motion. 

12.  A  great  officer  at  court,  when  my  Lord  of 
Essex  was  first  in  trouble,  and  that  he  and  those 
that  dealt  for  him  would  talk  much  of  my  lord's 
friends  and  of  his  enemies,  answered  to  one  of 
them,  "  I  will  tell  you,  I  know  but  one  friend  and 
one  enemy  my  lord  hath ;  and  that  one  friend  is 
the  queen,  and  that  one  enemy  is  himself." 

13.  The   Lord  Keeper,  Sir   Nicholas   Bacon, 
was  asked  his  opinion  by  my  Lord  of  Leicester, 
concerning  two  persons  whom  the  queen  seemed 
to  think  well  of:  "By  my  troth,  my  lord,"  said 
he,  "  the  one  is  a  grave  counsellor,  the  other  is  a 
proper  young  man;  and  so  he  will  be  as  long  as 
he  lives." 

14.  My  Lord  of  Liecester,  favourite  to  Queen 
Elizabeth,  was  making  a  large  chase  about  Corn- 
bury  Park,  meaning  to  enclose  it  with  posts  and 
rails,  and  one  day  was  casting  up  his  charge  what 
it  would  come  to ;  Mr.  Goldingham,  a  free-spoken 
man,  stood  by,  and  said  to  my  lord ;  "  Methlnks 
your  lordship  goeth  not  the  cheapest  way  to  work." 
"Why,  Goldingham]"  said  my  lord.     "Marry, 
my  lord,"  said  Goldingham,  "  count  you  but  upon 
the  posts,  for  the  country  will  find  you  railing." 

15.  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon  being  appointed  a  judge 
for  the  northern  circuit,  and  having  brought  his 
trials  that  came  before  him  to  such  a  pass,  as  the 
passing  of  sentence  on  malefactors,  he  was  by 
one  of  the  malefactors  mightily  importuned  for  to 
save  his  life,  which  when  nothing  that  he  had 
said  did  avail,  he  at  length  desired  his  mercy  on 
the  account  of  kindred.     "  Pr'ythee,"  said  my 
lord  judge,  "  how  came  that  in  1"     "  Why,  if  it 
please  you,  my  lord,  your  name  is   Bacon  and 
mine  is  Hog,  and  in  all  ages  hog  and  bacon  have 
been  so  near  kindred  that  they  are  not  to  be  sepa 
rated."     "  Ay,  but,"  replied  Judge  Bacon,  "  you 
and  I  cannot  be  kindred  except  you  be  hanged ; 
for  hog  is  not  bacon  until  it  be  well  hanged." 

16.  Two  scholars  and  a  countryman  travelling 
upon  the  road,  one  night  lodged  all  in  one  inn  and 
supped  together,  where  the  scholars  thought  to 


have  put  a  trick  upon  the  countryman,  which  wag 
thus :  the  scholars  appointed  for  supper  two 
pigeons  and  a  fat  capon,  which  being  ready  was 
brought  up,  and  they  having  sat  down,  the  one 
scholar  took  up  one  pigeon,  the  other  scholar  took 
the  other  pigeon,  thinking  thereby  that  the  coun 
tryman  should  have  sat  still  until  that  they  were 
ready  for  the  carving  of  the  capon,  which  he  per 
ceiving,  took  the  capon  and  laid  it  on  his  trencher, 
and  thus  said,  "Daintily  contrived,  every  one  a 
bird." 

17.  A  man  and  his  wife  in  bed  together,  she 
towards  morning  pretended  herself  to  be  ill  at 
ease,  desiring  to  lie  on  her  husband's  side ;  so  the 
good  man  to  please  her  came  over  her,  making 
some  short  stay  in  his  passage  over,  where  she 
had  not  long  lain,  but  desired  to  lie  in  her  old 
place  again.  Quoth  he,  "  How  can  it  be  effected  ?" 
She  answered,  "  Come  over  me  again."    "I  had 
rather,"  said  he,  "  go  a  mile  and  a  half  about." 

18.  A  thief  being  arraigned  at  the  bar  for  steal 
ing  a  mare,  in  his  pleading  urged  many  things  in 
his  own  behalf,  and  at  last  nothing  availing,  he 
told  the  bench  the  mare  rather  stole  him  than  he 
the  mare,  which   in   brief  he  thus  related  :  that 
passing  over  several  grounds  about  his  lawful 
occasions,  he  was  pursued  close  by  a  fierce  mas 
tiff  dog,  and  so  was  forced  to  save  himself  by 
leaping  over  a  hedge,  which  being  of  an  agile 
body  he  effected,  and  in  leaping,  a  mare  standing 
on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge,  leaped  upon  her 
back,  who  running  furiously  away  with  him,  he 
could  not  by  any  means  stop  her  until  he  came 
to  the  next  town,  in  which  town  the  owner  of  the 
mare  lived,  and  there  was  he  taken  and  here  ar 
raigned. 

19.  A  notorious  rogue  being  brought  to  the  bar, 
and  knowing  his  case  to  be  desperate,  instead  of 
pleading,  he  took  to  himself  the  liberty  of  jesting, 
and  thus  said,  "  I  charge  you  in  the  king's  name 
to  seize  and  take  away  that  man  (meaning  the 
judge)  in  the  red  gown,  for  I  go  in  danger  of  my 
life  because  of  him." 

20.  A  rough-hewn  seaman  being  brought  before 
a  wise  just-ass  for  some  misdemeanour,  was  by 
him  sent  away  to  prison :  and  being  somewhat 
refractory  after  he  heard  his  doom,  insomuch  as 
he  would  not  stir  a  foot  from  the  place  he  stood, 
saying,  "  It  were  better  to  stand  where  he  was 
than  go  to  a  worse  place."  The  justice  thereupon, 
to  show  the  strength  of  his  learning,  took  him  by 
the  shoulder,  and  said,  "Thou  shalt  go  'Nogus 
vogus,'  "  instead  of  "  Nolens  volens." 

21.  A  debauched  seaman  being  brought  before 
a  justice  of  the  peace  upon  the  account  of  swear 
ing,  was  by  the  justice  commanded   to  deposit 
his  fine  in  that  behalf  provided,  which  was  two 
shillings,  he  thereupon,  plucking  out  of  his  pocket 
a  half-crown,  asked  the  justice  what  was  the  rate 
he  was  to  pay  for  cursing ;  the  justice  told  him 
sixpence ;  quoth  he,  then,  "  A  pox  take  you  all  for 


APOPHTHEGMS. 


127 


a  company  of  knaves  and  fools,  and  there's  half- 
a-crown  for  you,  I  will  never  stand  changing  of 
money." 

22.  A  witty  rogue  coming  inlp  a  lace  shop, 
said  he  had  occasion  for  some  lace,  choice  whereof 
being  showed  him,  he  at  last  pitched  upon  one 
pattern,  and  asked  them  how  much  they  would 
have  for  so  much  as  would  reach  from  ear  to  ear, 
for  so  much  he  had  occasion  for ;  they  told  him 
for  so  much  :  so  some  few  words  passing  between 
them,  he  at  last  agreed,  and  told  down  his  money 
for  it,  and  began  to  measure  on  his  own  head, 
thus  saying,  »  One  ear  is  here,  and  the  other  is 
nailed  to  the  pillory  in  Bristol,  and  I  fear  you 
have  not  so  much  of  this  lace  by  you  at  present 
as  will  perfect  my  bargain;  therefore  this  piece 
of  lace  shall  suffice  at  present  in  part  of  payment, 
and  provide  the  rest  with  all  expedition." 

23.  A  woman  being  suspected  by  her  husband 
for  dishonesty,  and  being  by  him  at  last  pressed 
very  hard  about  it,  made  him  quick  answer  writh 
many  protestations,  "  That  she  knew  no  more  of 
what  he  said  than  the  man  in  the  moon  :"  Now 
the  captain  of  the  ship  called  "The  Moon"  was 
the  very  man  she  so  much  loved. 

24.  An  apprentice  of  London  being  brought 
before  the  chamberlain  by  his  master,  for  the  sin 
of  incontinency,  even  with  his  own  mistress ;  the 
chamberlain  thereupon  gave  him  many  Christian 
exhortations,  and  at  last  he  mentioned  and  pressed 
the  chastity  of  Joseph  when  his  mistress  tempted 
him  with  the  like  crime  of  incontinency.     "  Ay, 


sir,"  said  the  apprentice,  "  but  if  Joseph's  mis 
tress  had  been  as  handsome  as  mine  is,  he  could 
not  have  forborne." 

25.  When  my  Lord  President  of  the  Council 
was  newly  advanced  to  the  Great  Seal,  Gondomar 
came  to  visit  him;  my  lord  said,  "That  he  was 
to  thank  God  and  the  king  for  that  honour ;  but 
yet,  so  he  might  be  rid  of  the  burden,  he  could 
very  willingly  forbear  the  honour.     And  that  he 
formerly  had  a  desire,  and   the  same  continued 
with  him  still,  to  lead  a  private  life."     Gondomar 
answered  that  he  would  tell  him  a  tale,  "  Of  an 
old  rat  that  would  needs  leave  the  world:  and 
acquainted  the  young  rats  that  he  would  retire 
into  his  hole,  and  spend  his  days  solitarily ;  and 
would  enjoy  no  more  comfort:  and  commanded 
them,  upon  his  high  displeasure,  not  to  offer  to 
come  in  unto  him.     They  forbore  two  or  three 
days ;  at  last,  one  that  was  more  hardy  than  the 
rest,  incited  some  of  his  fellows  to  go  in  with 
him,  and  he  would  venture  to  see  how  his  father 
did ;  for  he  might  be  dead.     They  went  in,  and 
found  the  old  rat  sitting  in  the  midst  of  a  rich 
Parmesan  cheese."     So  he  applied  the  fable  after 
his  witty  manner. 

26.  Mr.  Houland,  in  conference  with  a  young 
student,  arguing  a  case,  happened  to   say,  "I 
would  ask  you  but  this  question."     The  student 
presently  interrupted  him  to  give  him  an  answer. 
Whereunto  Mr.  Houland  gravely  said ;   "  Nay, 
though  I  ask  you  a  question,  yet  I  did  not  mean 
you  should  answer  me,  I  mean  to  answer  myself." 


ORNAMENTA   RATIONALIA,* 

A  SUPPLY  (BY  THE  PUBLISHER) 

OF 

CERTAIN  WEIGHTY  AND  ELEGANT  SENTENCES, 

SOME   MADE,  OTHERS   COLLECTED   BY  THE  LORD   BACON;    AND   BY  HIM  PUT  UNDER  THE 
ABOVESAID  TITLE;  AND  AT  PRESENT  NOT  TO  BE  FOUND. 

A  COLLECTION  OF  SENTENCES  OUT  OF  THE  MIMI  OF  PUBLIUS  ;    ENGLISHED  BY  THE  PUBLISHER. 


1.  "ALEATOR,  quanto  in  arte  est  melior,  tanto 

est  nequtor." 

A  gamester,  the  greater  master  he  is  in  his 
art,  the  worse  man  he  is. 

2.  "Arcum,intensiofrangit;  animum,remissio." 
Much  bending  breaks  the  bow ;  much  unbend 
ing,  the  mind. 

*  Tcnison's  Baconiana,  page  60. 


3.  "Bis  vincit,  qui  se  vincitin  victoria." 

He  conquers  twice,  who  upon  victory  over 
comes  himself. 

4.  "  Cum  vitia  prosint,  peccat,  qui  recte  facit." 
If  vices  were  upon  the  whole  matter  profit 
able,  the  virtuous  man  would  be  the  sinner. 

5.  "  Bene  dormit,  qui  non  sentit  quod  male  dor 

miat." 


128 


He  sleeps  well,  who  feels  not  that  he  sleeps 
ill. 

6.  "  Deliberate  utilia,  mora  est  tutissima." 

To  deliberate  about  useful  things  is  the  safest 
delay. 

7.  "Dolor  decrescit,  ubi  quo  crescat  non  ha- 

bet." 

The  flood  of  grief  decreaseth,  when  it  can 
swell  no  higher. 

8.  "  Etiam  innocentes  cogit  mentiri  dolor." 
Pain  makes  even  the  innocent  man  a  liar. 

9.  "  Etiam  celeritas  in  desiderio,  mora  est." 
Even  in  desire,  swiftness  itself  is  delay. 

10.  "  Etiam  cap  ill  us  unus  habet  urnbram  suam." 
The  smallest  hair  casts  a  shadow. 

11.  "Fidem   qui   perdit,   quo  se  servat  in  reli- 

quuml" 

He  that  has  lost  his  faith,  what  has  he  left  to 
live  on? 

12.  "Formosa  facies  muia  commendatio  est." 
A  beautiful  face  is  a  silent  commendation. 

13.  "  Fortuna  nimium  quern  fovet,  stultum  facit." 
Fortune  makes  him  a  fool,  whom  she  makes 

her  darling. 

14.  "Fortuna  obesse  nulli  contenta  est  semel." 
Fortune  is  not  content  to  do  a  man  but  one  ill 

turn. 

15.  "  Facit  gratum  fortuna,  quam  nemo  videt." 
The  fortune  which  nobody  sees,  makes  a  man 

happy  and  unenvied. 
I G.  "  Heu !  quam  miserum  est  ab  illo  Isedi,  de  quo 

non  possis  queri." 

0!  what  a  miserable  thing  it  is  to  be  hurt  by 
such  a  one  of  whom  it  is  in  vain  to  com 
plain. 

17.  "  Homo  toties  moritur  quoties  amittit  suos." 
A  man  dies  as  often  as  he  loses  his  friends. 

18.  "  Heeredis  rictus  sub  persona  risus  est." 
The  tears  of  an  heir  are  laughter  under  a  vi 
zard. 

19.  "  Jucundum  nihil  est,  nisi  quod  reficit  va- 

rietas." 

Nothing  is  pleasant,  to  which  variety  does  not 
give  a  relish. 

20.  "Invidiam  ferre,  aut  fords,  autfelix  potest." 
He  may  bear  envy,  who  is  either  courageous 

or  happy. 

21.  "  In  malis  sperare  bonum,  nisi  innocens,  nemo 

potest." 

None  but  a  virtuous  man  can  hope  well  in  ill 
circumstances. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  SENTENCES. 

22 


"  In  vindicando,  criminosa  est  celeritas." 
In  taking  revenge,  the  very  haste  we  make  is 
criminal. 

23.  "  In  calamitoso  risus  etiam  injuria  est." 
When  men  are  in  calamity,  if  we  do  but  laugh 

we  offend. 

24.  "  Improbe  Neptunum  accusat,  qui  iterum  nau- 

fragium  facit." 
He  accuseth  Neptune  unjustly,  who  makes 

shipwreck  a  second  time. 
"  Multis  rninatur,  qui  uni  facit  injuriam." 
He  that  injures  one,  threatens  an  hundred. 
"  Mora  omnis  ingrata  est,  sed  facit  sapien- 

tiam." 
All  delay  is  ungrateful,  but  we  are  not  wise 

without  it. 

27.  "  Mori  est  felicis  antequam  mortem  invocet." 
Happy  he  who  dies  ere  he  calls  for  death  to 

take  him  away. 

28.  "  Malus  ubi  bonum  se  simulat,  tune  est  pes- 

simus." 

An  ill  man  is  always  ill ;  but  he  is  then  worst 
of  all  when  he  pretends  to  be  a  saint. 

29.  "  Magno  cum  periculo  custoditur,  quod  mul- 

tis  placet." 

Lock  and  key  will  scarce  keep  that  secure, 
which  pleases  everybody. 

30.  "  Male  vivunt  qui  se  semper  victuros  putant." 
They  think  ill,  who  think  of  living  always. 

31.  "  Male  secum  agit  aeger,  medicum  qui  haere- 

dem  facit." 

That  sick  man  does  ill  for  himself,  who  makes 
his  physician  his  heir. 

32.  "  Multos  timere  debet,  quern  multi  timent." 
He  of  whom  many  are  afraid,  ought  himself 

to  fear  many. 

33.  "  Nulla  tarn  bona  est  fortuna,  de  qua  nil  possis 

queri." 

There  is  no  fortune  so  good  but  it  bates  an 
ace. 

34.  "Pars  beneficii  est,   quod    petitur   si  bene 

neges." 

It  is  part  of  the  gift,  if  you  deny  genteely 
what  is  asked  of  you. 

35.  "  Timidus  vocat  se  cautem,  parcum  sordi- 

dus." 

The  coward  calls  himself  a  wary  man  ;  and 
the  miser  says  he  is  frugal. 

36.  "  O  vita !  misero  longa,  felici  brevis." 

0  life!  an  age  to  him  that  is  in  misery ;  and 
to  him  that  is  happy,  a  moment. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  SENTENCES 


OUT  OF  SOME  OF  THE  WRITINGS  OF  THE  LORD  BACON.* 


1.  IT  is  a  strange  desire  which  men  have,  to 
seek  power,  and  lose  liberty. 

2.  Children  increase  the  cares  of  life  ;  but  they 
mitigate  the  remembrance  of  death. 

3.  Round  dealing  is  the  honour  of  man's  nature ; 
and  a  mixture  of  falsehood  is  like  allay  in  gold  and 
silver,  which  may  make  the  metal  work  the  better, 
but  it  embaseth  it. 

4.  Death  openeth  the  gate  to  good  fame,  and  ex- 
tinguisheth  envy. 

5.  Schism  in  the  spiritual  body  of  the  church 
is  a  greater  scandal  than  a  corruption  in  manners  : 
as,  in  the  natural  body,  a  wound  or  solution  of 
continuity  is  worse  than  a  corrupt  humour. 

6.  Revenge  is  a  kind  of  wild  justice,  which  the 
more  a  man's  nature  runs  to,  the  more  ought  law 
to  weed  it  out. 

7.  He  that  studieth  revenge,  keepeth  his  own 
wounds  green. 

8.  Revengeful  persons  live  and  die  like  witches  : 
their  life  is  mischievous,  and  their  end  is  unfortu 
nate. 

9.  It  was  a  high  speech  of  Seneca,  after  the 
manner  of  the  Stoics,  that  the  good  things  which 
belong  to  prosperity  are  to  be  wished ;  but  the  good 
things  which  belong  to  adversity  are  to  be  admired. 

10.  He  that  cannot  see  well,  let  him  go  softly. 

11.  If  a  man  be  thought  secret,  it  inviteth  dis 
covery  :  as  the  more  close  air  sucketh  in  the  more 
open. 

1 2.  Keep  your  authority  wholly  from  your  chil 
dren,  not  so  your  purse. 

13.  Men  of  noble  birth  are  noted  to  be  envious 
towards  new  men  when  they  rise  :  for  the  dis 
tance  is  altered  ;  and  it  is  like  a  deceit  of  the  eye, 
that  when  others  come  on,  they  think  themselves 
go  back. 

14.  That  envy  is  most  malignant  which  is  like 
Cain's,  who  envied  his  brother,  because  his  sacri 
fice  was  better  accepted,  when  there  was  nobody 
but  God  to  look  on. 

15.  The  lovers  of  great  place  are  impatient  of 
privateness,  even  in  age,  which  requires  the  sha 
dow  :  like  old  townsmen,  that  will  be  still  sitting 
at  their  street  door,  though  there  they  offer  age  to 
scorn. 

10.  In  evil,  the  best  condition  is,  not  to  will : 
the  next  not  to  can. 

*  Baconiana,  page  65. 

VOL.  I.— 17 


17.  In  great  place  ask  counsel  of  both  times  :  of 
the  ancient  time,  what  is  best ;  and  of  the  latter 
time,  what  is  fittest. 

18.  As  in  nature  things  move  more  violently 
to  their  place,  and  calmly  in  their  place :  so  vir 
tue  in  ambition  is  violent ;  in  authority,  settled  and 
calm. 

19.  Boldness  in  civil  business  is  like  pronun 
ciation  in  the  orator  of*Demosthenes  :    the  first, 
second,  and  third  thing. 

20.  Boldness  is  blind  :   wherefore  it  is  ill  in 
counsel,  but  good  in  execution.     For  in  counsel 
it  is  good  to  see  dangers  :  in  execution,  not  to  see 
them,  except  they  be  very  great. 

21.  Without  good  nature,  man  is  but  a  better 
kind  of  vermin. 

22.  God   never  wrought  miracle  to  convince 
atheism,  because  his  ordinary  works  convince  it. 

23.  The  great  atheists  indeed  are  hypocrites, 
who  are  always  handling  holy  things,  but  without 
feeling ;  so  as  they  must  needs  be  cauterized  in 
the  end. 

24.  The  master  of  superstition  is  the  people. 
And  in  all  superstition,  wise  men  follow  fools. 

25.  In  removing  superstitions,  care  would  be 
had,  that,  as  it  fareth  in  ill  purgings,  the  good  be 
not  taken  away  with  the  bad :  which  commonly  is 
done  when  the  people  is  the  physician. 

2G.  He  that  goeth  into  a  country  before  he  hath 
some  entrance  into  the  language,  goeth  to  school, 
and  not  to  travel. 

27.  It  is  a  miserable  state  of  mind,  and  yet  it  is 
commonly  the  case  of  kings,  to  have  few  things  to 
desire,  and  many  things  to  fear. 

28.  Depression  of  the  nobility  may  make  a  king 
more  absolute  but  less  safe. 

29.  All  precepts  concerning  kings  are,  in  effect, 
comprehended  in  these  remembrances  :  remember 
thou  art  a  man ;  remember  thou  art  God's  vice 
gerent  :  the  one  bridleth  their  power,  and  the  other 
their  will. 

30.  Things  will  have  their  first  or  second  agi 
tation  :  if  they  be  not  tossed  upon  the  arguments 
of  counsel,  they  will  be  tossed  upon  the  waves 
of  fortune. 

31.  The  true  composition  of  a  counsellor  is, 
rather  to  be  skilled  in  his  master's  business  than 
his  nature  ;  for  then  he  is  like  to  advise  him,  and 
not  to  feed  his  humour. 

129 


130 


A  COLLECTION  OF  SENTENCES. 


32.  Private  opinion  is  more  free,  but  opinion 
before  others  is  more  reverend. 

33.  Fortune  is  like  a  market,  where  many  times 
if  you  stay  a  little  the  price  will  fall. 

34.  Fortune  sometimes  turneththe  handle  of  the 
bottle,  which  is  easy  to  be  taken  hold  of ;  and 
after  the  belly,  which  is  hard  to  grasp. 

35.  Generally  it  is  good  to  commit  the  begin 
ning  of  all  great  actions  to  Argus  with  an  hun 
dred  eyes ;  and  the  ends  of  them  to  Briareus  with 
an  hundred  hands;  first  to  watch,  and  then  to 
speed. 

36.'  There  is  great  difference  betwixt  a  cunning 
man  and  a  wise  man.  There  be  that  can  pack 
the  cards,  who  yet  cannot  play  well ;  they  are 
good  in  canvasses  and  factions,  and  yet  otherwise 
mean  men. 

37.  Extreme  self-lovers  will  set  a  man's  house 
on  fire,  though  it  were  but  to  roast  their  eggs. 

38.  New  things,  like  strangers,  are  more  ad 
mired  and  less  favoured.  * 

39.  It  were  good  that  men,  in  their  innovations, 
would  follow  the  example  of  time  itself,  which 
indeed  innovateth  greatly,  but  quietly,  and  by  de 
grees  scarce  to  be  perceived. 

40.  They  that  reverence  too  much  old  time,  are 
but  a  scorn  to  the  new. 

41.  The  Spaniards  and  Spartans  have  been  noted 
to  be  of  small  despatch.     "  Mi  venga  la  muerte 
de  Spagna ;"  Let  my  death  come  from  Spain,  for 
then  it  will  be  sure  to  be  long  a  coming. 

42.  You  had  better  take  for  business  a  man 
somewhat  absurd,  than  over-formal. 

43.  Those  who  want  friends  to  whom  to  open 
their  griefs,  are  cannibals  of  their  own  hearts. 

44.  Number  itself  importeth  not  much  in  ar 
mies,  where  the  people  are  of  weak  courage  ;  for, 
as  Virgil  says,  it  never  troubles  a  wolf  how  many 
the  sheep  be. 

45.  Let  states  that  aim  at  greatness,  take  heed 
how  their  nobility  and  gentry  multiply  too  fast. 
In  coppice  woods,  if  you  leave  your  stadles  too 
thick,  you  shall  never  have  clean  underwood,  but 
shrubs  and  bushes. 

46.  A  civil  war  is  like  the  heat  of  a  fever;  but 
a  foreign  war  is  like  the  heat  of  exercise,  and 
serveth  to  keep  the  body  in  health. 

47.  Suspicions  among  thoughts,  are  like  bats 
among  birds,  they  ever  fly  by  twilight. 

48.  Base  natures,  if  they  find  themselves  once 
suspected,  will  never  be  true. 

49.  Men  ought  to  find  the  difference  between 
saltness  and  bitterness.     Certainly  he  that  hath  a 
satirical  vein,  as  he  maketh  others  afraid  of  his 
wit,  so  he  had  need  be  afraid  of  others'  memory. 

50.  Discretion  in  speech  is  more  than  eloquence. 

51.  Men  seem  neither  well  to  understand  their 
riches  nor  their  strength  ;  of  the  former  they  be 
lieve  greater  things  than  they  should,  and  of  the 
'atter  much  less.     And  from   hence  certain  fatal 
pillars  have  bounded  the  progress  of  learning. 


52.  Riches  are  the  baggage  of  virtue ;  they 
cannot  be  spared,  nor  left  behind,  but  they  hin 
der  the  march. 

53.  Great  riches  have  sold  more  men  than 
ever  they  have  bought  out. 

54.  Riches  have  wings,  and  sometimes  they  fly 
away  of  themselves,  and  sometimes  they  must  be 
set  flying  to  bring  in  more. 

55.  He  that  defers  his  charity  till  he  is  dead,  is, 
if  a  man  weighs  it  rightly,  rather  liberal  of  another 
man's  than  of  his  own. 

56.  Ambition  is  like  choler ;  if  it  can  move,  it 
makes  men  active ;  if  it  be  stopped,  it  becomes 
adust,  and  makes  men  melancholy. 

57.  To  take  a  soldier  without  ambition,  is  to 
pull  off  his  spurs. 

58.  Some  ambitious  men  seem  as  skreens  to 
princes  in  matters  of  danger  and  envy.     For  no 
man  will  take  such  parts,  except  he  be  like  the 
seeled  dove,  that  mounts  and  mounts,  because  he 
cannot  see  about  him. 

59.  Princes  and  states  should  choose  such  mi 
nisters  as  are  more  sensible  of  duty  than  rising ; 
and  should  discern  a  busy  nature  from  a  willing 
mind. 

60.  A  man's  nature  runs  either  to  herbs  or  weeds ; 
therefore  let  him  seasonably  water  the  one,  and 
destroy  the  other. 

61.  If  a  man  look  sharply  and  attentively,  he 
shall  see  fortune  ;  for  though  she  be  blind,  she  is 
not  invisible. 

62.  Usury  bringeth  the  treasure  of  a  realm  or 
state  into  a  few  hands  :  for  the  usurer  being  at 
certainties,  and  others  at  uncertainties  ;  at  the  end 
of  the  game  most  of  the  money  will  be  in  the  box. 

63.  Beauty  is  best  in  a  body  that  hath  rather 
dignity  of  presence,  than  beauty  of  aspect.     The 
beautiful   prove   accomplished,  but  not  of  great 
spirit;  and  study,  for  the  most  part,  rather  beha 
viour  than  virtue. 

64.  The  best  part  of  beauty  is  that  which  a 
picture  cannot  express. 

£5.  He  who  builds  a  fair  house  upon  an  ill  seat, 
commits  himself  to  prison. 

66.  If  you  will  work  on  any  man,  you  must 
either  know  his  nature  and  fashion,  and  so  lead 
him  ;  or  his  ends,  and  so  persuade  him ;  or  his 
weaknesses  and  disadvantages,  and  so  awe  him ; 
or  those  that  have  interest  in  him,  and  so  govern 
him. 

67.  Costly  followers  (among  whom  we  may 
reckon  those  who  are  importunate  in  suits)  are 
not  to  be  liked ;  lest,  while  a  man  maketh  his 
train  longer,  he  maketh  his  wings  shorter. 

68.  Fam*  is  like  a  river  that  beareth  up  things 
light  and  swollen,  and  drowns  things  weighty 
and  solid. 

69.  Seneca  saith  well,  that  anger  is  like  rain, 
which  breaks  itself  upon  that  which  it  falls. 

70.  Excusations,  cessions,  modesty  itself  well 
governed,  are  but  arts  of  ostentation. 


SHORT  NOTES  FOR  CIVIL  CONVERSATION. 


131 


71.  High  treason  is  not  written  in  ice,  that 
when  the  body  relenteth,  the  impression  should 
go  away. 

72.  The  best  governments  are  always  subject 
to  be  like  the  fairest  crystals,  wherein  every  icicle 


or  grain  is  seen,  which  in  a  fouler  stone  is  never 
perceived. 

73.  Hollow  church  papists  are  like  the  roots 
of  nettles,  which  themselves  sting  not ;  but  yet 
they  bear  all  the  stinging  leaves. 


SHORT  NOTES  FOR  CIVIL  CONVERSATION. 

BY  SIR  FRANCIS  BACON.* 


To  deceive  men's  expectations  generally  (which 
cautel)  arguetha  staid  mind,  and  unexpected  con 
stancy  :  viz.  in  matters  of  fear,  anger,  sudden  joy 
or  grief,  and  all  things  which  may  affect  or  alter 
the  mind  in  public  or  sudden  accidents,  or  suchlike. 

It  is  necessary  to  use  a  steadfast  countenance, 
not  wavering  with  action,  as  in  moving  the  head  or 
hand  too  much,  which  showeth  a  fantastical, 
light,  and  fickle  operation  of  the  spirit,  and  con 
sequently  like  mind  as  gesture  :  only  it  is  suf 
ficient,  with  leisure,  to  use  a  modest  action  in 
either. 

In  all  kinds  of  speech,  either  pleasant,  grave, 
severe,  or  ordinary,  it  is  convenient  to  speak 
leisurely,  and  rather  drawingly,  than  hastily; 
because  hasty  speech  confounds  the  memory, 
and  oftentimes,  besides  unseemliness,  drives  a 
man  either  to  a  non-plus  or  unseemly  stammering, 
harping  upon  that  which  should  follow ;  whereas 
a  slow  speech  confirmeth  the  memory,  addeth  a 
conceit  of  wisdom  to  the  hearers,  besides  a  seem- 
liness  of  speech  and  countenance.  To  desire  in 
discourse  to  hold  all  arguments,  is  ridiculous, 


wanting  true  judgment ;  for  in  all  things  no  man 
can  be  exquisite. 

To  have  commonplaces  to  discourse,  and  to 
want  variety,  is  both  tedious  to  the  hearers,  and 
shows  a  shallowness  of  conceit :  therefore  it  is 
good  to  vary,  and  suit  speeches  with  the  present 
occasions ;  and  to  have  a  moderation  in  all  our 
speeches,  especially  in  jesting  of  religion,  state, 
great  persons,  weighty  and  important  business, 
poverty,  or  any  thing  deserving  pity. 

A  long  continued  speech,  without  a  good 
speech  of  interlocution,  showeth  slowness :  and 
a  good  reply,  without  a  good  set  speech,  showeth 
shallowness  and  weakness. 

To  use  many  circumstances,  ere  you  come  to 
the  matter,  is  wearisome  ;  and  to  use  none  at  all, 
is  but  blunt. 

Bashfulness  is  a  great  hinderance  to  a  man, 
both  of  uttering  his  conceit,  and  understanding 
what  is  propounded  unto  him;  wherefore  it  is 
good  to  press  himself  forwards  with  discretion, 
both  in  speech,  and  company  of  the  better  sort. 
"Usus  promptos  facit." 


AN  ESSAY  ON  DEATH. 

BY   THE    LORD    CHANCELLOR   BACON.t 


1. 1  HAVE  often  thought  upon  death,  and  I  find  it 
the  least  of  all  evils.  All  that  which  is  past  is 
as  a  dream ;  and  he  that  hopes  or  depends  upon 
time  coming,  dreams  waking.  So  much  of  our 
life  as  we  have  discovered  is  already  dead  ;  and 
ail  those  hours  which  we  share,  even  from  the 
breasts  of  our  mother,  until  we  return  to  our 
grandmother  the  earth,  are  part  of  our  dying 
days ;  whereof  even  this  is  one,  and  those  that 
succeed  are  of  the  same  nature,  for  we  die  daily; 
and  as  others  have  given  place  to  us,  so  we 
must  in  the  end  give  way  to  others. 
*  From  the  Remains. 


2.  Physicians  in  the  name  of  death  include 
all  sorrow,  anguish,  disease,  calamity,  or  what 
soever  can  fall  in  the  life  of  man,  either  grievous 
or  unwelcome  :   but   these  things   are  familiar 
unto  us,  and  we  suffer  them  every  hour ;  there 
fore  we  die  daily,  and  I  am   older  since  I  af 
firmed  it. 

3.  I  know  many  wise  men,  that  fear  to  die; 
for  the  change  is  bitter,   and  flesh  would   re 
fuse  to  prove  it :  besides  the  expectation  orings 
terror,  and  that  exceeds  the  evil.     But  I  do  not 
believe,  that  any  man  fears  to  be  dead,  but  only 

f  Remains. 


132 


AN  ESSAY  ON  DEATH. 


the  stroke  of  death  :  and  such  are  my  hopes,  that 
if  Heaven  be  pleased,  and  nature  renew  but  my 
lease  for  twenty-one  years  more,  without  asking 
longer  days,  I  shall  be  strong  enough  to  ac 
knowledge  without  mourning  that  I  was  begotten 
mortal .  Virtue  walks  not  in  the  highway,  though 
she  go  per  alta ;  this  is  strength  and  the  blood  to 
virtue,  to  contemn  things  that  be  desired,  and  to 
neglect  that  which  is  feared. 

4.  Why  should  man  be  in  love  with  his  fetters, 
though  of  gold  ?  Art  thou  drowned  in  security  1 
Then  I  say  thou  art  perfectly  dead.  For  though 
thou  movest,  yet  thy  soul  is  buried  within  thee, 
and  thy  good  angel  either  forsakes  his  guard  or 
sleeps.  There  is  nothing  under  heaven,  saving 
a  true  friend,  who  cannot  be  counted  within  the 
number  of  moveables,  unto  which  my  heart  doth 
lean.  And  this  dear  freedom  hath  begotten  me 
this  peace,  that  I  mourn  not  for  that  end  which 
must  be,  nor  spend  one  wish  to  have  one  minute 
added  to  the  incertain  date  of  my  years.  It  was 
no  mean  apprehension  of  Lucian,  who  says  of 
Menippus,  that  in  his  travels  through  hell  he 
knew  not  the  kings  of  the  earth  from  other  men, 
but  only  by  their  louder  cryings  and  tears :  which 
was  fostered  in  them  through  the  remorseful  me 
mory  of  the  good  days  they  had  seen,  and  the 
fruitful  havings  which  they  so  unwillingly  left 
behind  them:  he  that  was  well  seated,  looked 
back  at  his  portion,  and  was  loath  to  forsake  his 
farm ;  and  others  either  minding  marriages, 
pleasures,  profit,  or  preferment,  desired  to  be  ex 
cused  from  death's  banquet :  they  had  made  an 
appointment  with  earth,  looking  at  the  blessings, 
not  the  hand  that  enlarged  them,  forgetting  how 
unclothedly  they  came  hither,  or  with  what  naked 
ornaments  they  were  arrayed. 

5.  But  were  we  servants  of  the  precept  given, 
and  observers  of  the  heathen's  rule  "  memento 
mori,"  and  not  become  benighted  with  this  seem 
ing  felicity,  we  should  enjoy  it  as  men  prepared 
to  lose  and  not  wind  up  our  thoughts  upon  so 
perishing  a  fortune :  he  that  is  not  slackly  strong, 
as  the  servants  of  pleasure,  how  can  he  be  found 
unready  to  quit  the  veil  and  false  visage  of  his 
perfection?  The  soul  having  shaken  off  her 
flesh,  doth  then  set  up  for  herself,  and  contemn 
ing  things  that  are  under,  shows  what  finger  hath 
enforced  her;  for  the  souls  of  idiots  are  of  the 
same  piece  with  those  of  statesmen,  but  now  and 
then  nature  is  at  a  fault,  and  this  good  guest  of 
ours  takes  soil  in  an  imperfect  body,  and  so  is 
slackened  from  showing  her  wonders ;  like  an 
excellent  musician,  which  cannot  utter  himself 
upon  a  defective  instrument. 

G.  But  see  how  I  am  swerved,  and  lose  my 
course,  touching  at  the  soul,  that  doth  least  hold 
action  with  death,  who  hath  the  surest  property 
in  this  frail  act ;  his  style  is  the  end  of  all  flesh, 
and  the  beginning  of  incorruption. 

This  ruler  of  monuments  leads  men  for  the 


most  part  out  of  this  world  with  their  heels  for 
ward  ;  in  token  that  he  is  contrary  to  life ;  which 
being  obtained,  sends  men  headlong  into  this 
wretched  theatre,  where  being  arrived,  their  first 
language  is  that  of  mourning.  Nor  in  my  own 
thoughts,  can  I  compare  men  more  fitly  to  any 
thing,  than  to  the  Indian  fig-tree,  which  being 
ripened  to  his  full  height,  is  said  to  decline  his 
branches  down  to  the  earth ;  whereof  she  con 
ceives  again,  and  they  become  roots  in  their  own 
stock. 

So  man  having  derived  his  being  from  the 
earth,  first  lives  the  life  of  a  tree,  drawing  his 
nourishment  as  a  plant,  and  made  ripe  for  death 
he  tends  downwards,  and  is  sowed  again  in  his 
mother  the  earth,  where  he  perisheth  not,  but  ex 
pects  a  quickening. 

7.  So  we  see  death  exempts  not  a  man  from 
being,  but  only  presents  an  alteration  ;  yet  there 
are  some  men,  I  think,  that  stand  otherwise  per 
suaded.     Death  finds  not  a  worse  friend  than  an 
alderman,  to  whose  door  I  never  knew  him  wel 
come  ;  but  he  is  an  importunate  guest,  and  will 
not  be  said  nay. 

And  though  they  themselves  shall  affirm,  that 
they  are  not  within,  yet  the  answer  will  not  be 
taken;  and  that  which  heightens  their  fear  is. 
that  they  know  they  are  in  danger  to  forfeit  their 
flesh,  but  are  not  wise  of  the  payment  day :  which 
sickly  uncertainty  is  the  occasion  that,  for  the 
most  part  they  step  out  of  this  world  unfurnished 
for  their  general  account,  and  being  all  unpro 
vided,  desire  yet  to  hold  their  gravity,  preparing 
their  souls  to  answer  in  scarlet. 

Thus  I  gather,  that  death  is  unagreeable  to 
most  citizens,  because  they  commonly  die  intes 
tate  :  this  being  a  rule,  that  when  their  will  is 
made,  they  think  themselves  nearer  a  grave  than 
before  ;  now  they  out  of  the  wisdom  of  thousands 
think  to  scare  destiny  from  which  there  is  no  ap 
peal,  by  not  making  a  will,  or  to  live  longer  by 
protestation  of  their  unwillingness  to  die.  They 
are  for  the  most  part  well  made  in  this  world,  ac 
counting  their  treasure  by  legions,  as  men  do 
devils,  their  fortune  looks  toward  them,  and  they 
are  willing  to  anchor  at  it,  and  desire,  if  it  be  pos 
sible,  to  put  the  evil  day  far  off  from  them,  and  to 
adjourn  their  ungrateful  and  killing  period. 

No,  these  are  not  the  men  which  have  bespoken 
death,  or  whose  looks  are  assured  to  entertain  a 
thought  of  him. 

8.  Death  arrives  gracious  only  to  such  as  sit  in 
darkness,  or  lie  heavy  burdened  with  grief  and 
irons;  to  the  poor  Christian,  that  sits  bound  in 
the  galley ;    to  despairful  widows,  pensive  pri 
soners,  and  deposed  kings :  to  them  whose  fortune 
runs  back,  and  whose  spirits  mutiny ;  unto  such 
death  is  a  redeemer,  and  the  grave  a  place  for 
retiredness  and  rest. 

These  wait  upon  the  shore  of  death,  and  watt 
unto  him  to  draw  near,  wishing  above  all  others 


AN  ESSAY  ON  DEATH. 


133 


to  see  his  star,  that  they  might  be  led  to  his  place, 
wooing  the  remorseless  sisters  to  wind  down  the 
watch  of  their  life,  and  to  break  them  off  before 
the  hour. 

9.  But  death  is  a  doleful  messenger  to  a  usurer, 
and  fate  untimely  cuts   their  thread:    for  it  is 
never  mentioned  by  him,  but  when  rumours  of 
war  and  civil  tumults  put  him  in  mind  thereof. 

And  when  many  hands  are  armed,  and  the  peace 
of  a  city  in  disorder,  and  the  foot  of  the  common 
soldiers  sounds  an  alarm  on  his  stairs,  then  per 
haps  such  a  one,  broken  in  thoughts  of  his  moneys 
abroad,  and  cursing  the  monuments  of  coin  which 
are  in  his  house,  can  be  content  to  think  of  death  ; 
and,  being  hasty  of  perdition,  will  perhaps  hang 
himself,  lest  his  throat  should  be  cut ;  provided 
that  he  may  do  it  in  his  study,  surrounded  with 
wealth,  to  which  his  eye  sends  a  faint  and 
languishing  salute,  even  upon  the  turning  off; 
remembering  always,  that  he  have  time  and 
liberty  by  writing,  to  depute  himself  as  his  own 
heir. 

For  that  is  a  great  peace  to  his  end,  and  recon 
ciles  him  wonderfully  upon  the  point. 

10.  Herein  we  all  dally  with  ourselves,  and  are 
without  proof  of  necessity.     I  am  not  of  those 
that  dare  promise  to  pine  away  myself  in  vain 
glory,  and  I  hold  such  to  be  but   feat  boldness, 
and  them  that  dare  commit  it  to  be  vain.     Yet 
for  my  part,  I  think  nature  should  do  me  great 
wrong,  if  I  should  be  so  long  in  dying  as  I  was 
in  being  born. 

To  speak  truth,  no  man  knows  the  lists  of  his 
own  patience  ;  nor  can  divine  how  able  he  shall 
be  in  his  sufferings,  till  the  storm  come ;  the  per- 
fectest  virtue  being  tried  in  action  :  but  I  would, 
out  of  a  care  to  do  the  best  business  well,  ever 
keep  a  guard,  and  stand  upon  keeping  faith  and 
a  good  conscience. 

11.  And  if  wishes  might  find  place,  I  would 
die  together,  and  not  my  mind  often,  and  my  body 
once ;  that  is,  I  would  prepare  for  the  messengers 
of  death,  sickness  and  affliction,  and  not  wait 
long,  or  be  attempted  by  the  violence  of  pain. 

Herein  I  do  not  profess  myself  a  Stoic,  to 


lold  grief  no  evil,  but  opinion,  and  a  thing  in 
different. 

But  I  consent  with  Caesar,  that  the  suddenest 
jassage  is  easiest,  and  there  is  nothing  more 
awakens  our  resolve  and  readiness  to  die,  than  the 
quieted  conscience,  strengthened  with  opinion 
that  we  shall  be  well  spoken  of  upon  earth  by 
those  that  are  just  and  of  the  family  of  virtue  ;  the 
opposite  whereof  is  a  fury  to  man,  and  makes  even 
iife  unsweet. 

Therefore,  what  is  more  heavy  than  evil  fame 
deserved  1  Or,  likewise,  who  can  see  worse  days, 
than  he  that  yet  living  doth  follow  at  the  funerals 
of  his  own  reputation  1 

I  have  laid  up  many  hopes,  that  I  am  privileged 
from  that  kind  of  mourning,  and  could  wish  the 
like  peace  to  all  those  with  whom  I  wage  love. 

12.  I  might  say  much  of  the  commodities  that 
death  can  sell  a  man  ;  but  briefly,  death  is  a  friend 
of  ours,  and  he  that  is  not  ready  to  entertain  him 
is  not  at  home.  Whilst  I  am,  my  ambition  is  not 
to  foreflow  the  tide ;  I  have  but  so  to  make  my 
interest  of  it,  as  I  may  account  for  it ;  I  would 
wish  nothing  but  what  might  better  my  days, 
nor  desire  any  greater  place  than  in  the  front  of 
good  opinion.  I  make  not  love  to  the  continuance 
of  days,  but  to  the  goodness  of  them ;  nor  wish  to 
die,  but  refer  myself  to  my  hour,  which  the  great 
Dispenser  of  all  things  hath  appointed  me ;  yet  as 
I  am  frail,  and  suffered  for  the  first  fault,  were 
it  given  me  to  choose,  I  should  not  be  earnest  to 
see  the  evening  of  my  age  ;  that  extremity  of  it 
self  being  a  disease,  and  a  mere  return  into  infancy ; 
so  that  if  perpetuity  of  life  might  be  given  me,  I 
should  think  what  the  Greek  poet  said,  "  Such  an 
age  is  a  mortal  evil."  And  since  I  must  needs  be 
dead,  I  require  it  may  not  be  done  before  mine 
enemies,  that  I  be  not  stript  before  I  be  cold  :  but 
before  my  friends.  The  night  was  even  now ;  but 
that  name  is  lost ;  it  is  not  now  late,  but  early. 
Mine  eyes  begin  to  discharge  their  watch,  and 
compound  with  this  fleshly  weakness  for  a  time 
of  perpetual  rest ;  and  I  shall  presently  be  as 
happy  for  a  few  hours,  as  I  had  died  the  first 
hour  I  was  born. 


M 


THE  TWO  BOOKS  OF 

FRANCIS    BACON, 


OF   THE 


PROFICIENCE  AND  ADVANCEMENT   OF  LEARNING, 

DIVINE   AND   HUMAN. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

THE  Advancement  of  Learning  was  published  in  the  year  1605.    It  is  entitled 

THE 
TVVOO  BOOKES  OF 

FRANCIS  BACON, 

Of  the  proficience  and  aduancement  of  Learning,  diuine  and  humane. 

TO  THE  KING. 

AT  LONDON, 

If  Printed  for  Henri  Tomes,  and  are  to  be  sould  at  his  shop  in  Graies  Inne  Gate  in  Holborne.   1605 

It  is  a  small  thin  quarto  of  119  pages,  somewhat  incorrectly  printed,  the  subjects  being  distinguished 
by  capitals  and  italics  introduced  into  the  text,  with  a  few  marginal  notes  in  Latin.  The  following 
is  an  exact  specimen  : 

"  HISTORY  is  NATVRALL,  CIVILE,  ECCLESIASTICALL  &  LITERARY,  whereof  the  three  first  I  allow  as 
extant,  the  fourth  I  note  as  deficient.  For  no  man  hath  propounded  to  himselfe  the  generall  state  of 
learning  to  bee  described  and  represented  from  age  to  age,  as  many  haue  done  the  works  of  nature, 
&  the  State  ciuile  and  Ecclesiastical ;  without  which  the  History  of  the  world  seemeth  to  me,  to  be 
as  the  Statua  of  Polyphemus  with  his  eye  out,  that  part  being  wanting,  which  doth  most  shew  the 
spirit,  and  life  of  the  person." 

Of  this  work  he  sent  a  copy,  with  a  letter,  to  the  king;  to  the  university  of  Cambridge;  to  Tri 
nity  College,  Cambridge;  to  the  university  of  Oxford  ;  to  Sir  Thomas  Bodley;  to  Lord  Chancellor 
Egerton ;  to  the  Earl  of  Salisbury  ;  to  the  Lord  Treasurer  Buckhurst :  and  to  Mr.  Matthews.  From 
these  letters,  which  are  all  in  existence,  the  letter  to  the  lord  chancellor,  as  a  favourable  specimen, 
is  annexed : 

"  MAY  IT  PLEASE  YOUR  LORDSHIP, 

"  I  humbly  present  your  lordship  with  a  work,  wherein,  as  you  have  much  commandment  over  the 
author,  so  your  lordship  hath  great  interest  in  the  argument :  For  to  speak  without  flattery,  few  have 
like  use  of  learning  or  like  judgment  in  learning,  as  I  have  observed  in  your  lordship.  And  again, 
your  lordship  hath  been  a  great  planter  of  learning,  not  only  in  those  places  in  the  church  which 
have  been  in  your  own  gift,  but  also  in  your  commendatory  vote,  no  man  hath  more  constantly  held ; 
let  it  be  given  to  the  most  deserving,  detur  digniori :  And  therefore,  both  your  lordship  is  beholding 
to  learning  and  learning  beholding  to  you ;  which  maketh  me  presume  with  good  assurance  that 
your  lordship  will  accept  well  of  these  my  labours ;  the  rather  because  your  lordship  in  private 
speech  hath  often  begun  to  me  in  expressing  your  admiration  of  his  majesty's  learning,  to  whom  I 
have  dedicated  this  work ;  and  whose  virtue  and  perfection  in  that  kind  did  chiefly  move  me  to  a 
work  of  this  nature.  And  so  with  signification  of  my  most  humble  duty  and  affection  to  your  lord 
ship,  I  remain." 

135 


136  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

Some  short  time  after  the  publication  of  this  work,  probably  about  the  year  1608,  Sir  Francis 
Bacon  was  desirous  that  the  Advancement  of  Learning  should  be  translated  into  Latin ;  and,  for  this 
purpose,  he  applied  to  Dr.  Playfer,  the  Margaret  Professor  of  Divinity  in  the  university  of  Cam 
bridge."1 

Upon  the  subject  of  this  application  Archbishop  Tennison  says  in  his  Baconiana  : — "  The  doctor 
was  willing  to  serve  so  excellent  a  person,  and  so  worthy  a  design  ;  and,  within  a  while  sent  him  a 
specimen  of  a  latine  translation.  But  men,  generally,  come  short  of  themselves  when  they  strive  to 
out-doe  themselves.  They  put  a  force  upon  their  natural  genius,  and,  by  straining  of  it,  crack  and 
disable  it.  And  so,  it  seems,  it  happened  to  that  worthy  and  elegant  man.  Upon  this  great  occa 
sion,  he  would  be  over-accurate;  and  he  sent  a  specimen  of  such  superfine  latinity,  that  the  Lord 
Bacon  did  not  encourage  him  to  labour  further  in  that  work,  in  the  penning  of  which,  he  desired  not 
so  much  neat  and  polite,  as  clear,  masculine,  and  apt  expression." 

On  the  12th  of  October,  1620,  in  a  letter  to  the  king,  presenting  the  Novum  Organum  to  his  ma 
jesty,  Lord  Bacon  says,  "  I  hear  my  former  book  of  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  is  well  tasted  in 
the  universities  here,  and  the  English  colleges  abroad  :  and  this  is  the  same  argument  sunk  deeper." 

An  edition,  in  8vo,  was  published  in  1629  ;  and  a  third  edition,  corrected  from  the  original  edition 
of  1605,  was  published  at  Oxford  in  1633.  These  are  the  only  editions  of  the  Advancement  of 
Learning,  which  were  published  before  the  year  1636,  a  period  of  ten  years  after  the  death  of  Lord 
Bacon. 

The  present  edition  is  corrected  from  the  first  edition  of  1605,  and  with  the  hope  of  making  it 
more  acceptable  to  the  public,  an  Analysis  of  the  whole  work,  with  a  table  of  contents,  is  prefixed. 

»  This  appears  by  the  following  letter,  without  any  date  : 

"MR.  DR.  PLAYFER, 

"A  great  desire  will  take  a  small  occasion  to  hope  and  put  in  trial  that  which  is  desired.  It  pleased  you  a  good  while 
since,  to  express  unto  me  the  good  liking  which  you  conceived  of  my  book  of  the  Advancement  of  Learning ;  and  that  more 
significantly,  (as  it  seemed  to  me)  than  out  of  courtesie,  or  civil  respect.  Myself,  as  I  then  took  contentment  in  your  appro 
bation  thereof;  so  I  esteem  and  acknowledge,  not  onely  my  contentment  encreased,  but  my  labours  advanced,  if  I  might 
obtain  your  help  in  that  nature  which  I  desire.  Wherein  before  I  set  down  in  plain  terms  my  request  unto  you,  I  will  open 
myself,  what  it  was  which  I  chiefly  sought  and  propounded  to  myself  in  that  work  ;  that  you  may  perceive  that  which  I  now 
desire,  to  be  perusant  thereupon.  If  I  do  not  much  err,  for  any  judgment  that  a  man  maketh  of  his  own  doings  jjgd  need  be 
spoken  with  a  Si  nunquam  fallit  Imago,  I  have  this  opinion,  that  if  I  had  sought  mine  own  commendation,  it  had'ven  a  much 
fitter  course  for  me  to  have  done  as  gardeners  used  to  do,  by  taking  their  seed  and  slips,  and  rearing  them  first  into  plants, 
and  so  uttering  them  in  pots,  when  they  are  in  flower,  and  in  their  best  state.  But  for  as  much  as  rny  end  was  Merit  of  the 
State  of  Learning  (to  my  power)  and  not  Glory;  and  because  my  purpose  was  rather  to  excite  other  men's  wits  than  to 
magnifie  mine  own  ;  I  was  desirous  to  prevent  the  uncertainness  of  mine  own  life  and  times,  by  uttering  rather  seeds  than 
plants  :  Nay  and  further,  (as  the  proverb  is,)  by  sowing  with  the  basket,  rather  than  with  the  hand  :  Wherefore,  since  I  have 
onely  taken  upon  me  to  ring  a  bell,  to  call  other  wits  together,  (which  is  the  meanest  office,)  it  cannot  but  be  consonant  to 
my  desire,  to  have  that  bell  heard  as  far  as  can  be.  And  since  they  are  but  sparks  which  can  work  but  upon  matter  pre 
pared,  I  have  the  more  reason  to  wish  that  those  sparks  may  fly  abroad,  that  they  may  the  better  find  and  light  upon  those 
minds  and  spirits  which  are  apt  to  be  kindled.  And  therefore  the  privateness  of  the  language  considered,  wherein  it  is 
written,  excluding  so  many  readers  ;  as  on  the  other  side,  the  obscurity  of  the  argument,  in  many  parts  of  it,  excludeth 
many  others  ;  I  must  account  it  a  second  birth  of  that  work,  if  it  might  be  translated  into  Latin,  without  manifest  loss  of  the 
sense  and  matter.  For  this  purpose  I  could  not  represent  to  myself  any  man  into  whose  hands  I  do  more  earnestly  desire 
that  work  should  fall  than  yourself;  for  by  that  I  have  heard  and  read,  I  know  no  man,  a  greater  master  in  commanding 
words  to  serve  matter.  Nevertheless,  I  am  not  ignorant  of  the  worth  of  your  labours,  whether  such  as  your  place  and  pro 
fession  imposeth,  or  such  as  your  own  virtue  may  upon  your  voluntary  election  tak?  in  hand.  But  I  can  lay  before  you  no 
other  perswasions  than  either  the  work  itself  may  affect  you  with;  or  the  honour  of  his  majesty,  to  whom  it  is  dedicated, 
or  your  particular  inclination  to  myself;  who,  as  I  never  took  so  much  comfort  in  any  labours  of  my  own,  so  I  shall  never 
acknowledge  myself  more  obliged  in  any  thing  to  the  labours  of  another,  than  in  that  which  shall  assist  it.  Which  your 
labour,  if  I  can  by  my  place,  profession,  means,  friends,  travel,  work,  deed,  requite  unto  you,  I  shall  esteem  myself  so 
Etreightly  bound  thereunto,  as  I  shall  be  ever  most  ready  both  to  take  and  seek  occasion  of  thankfulness.  So  leaving  it 
nevertheless,  Salva  rfmicitia,  as  reason  is  to  your  good  liking.  I  remain." 


ANALYSIS 


OF 


LORD  BACON'S  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


"  MUNDUS    INTELLECTUAL^.' 


DEDICATION  TO  KING  JAMES 161 

Division  of  the  work 162 

I.  The  excellence  of  knowledge  and  the  merit  of 
propagating  it 162 

1.  Objections  to  learning 162 

2.  Advantages  of  learning 162,  174 

II.  What  has  been  done  for  the  advancement  of 
learning,  and  what  is  omitted 162,  163 


THE  EXCELLENCE  OF  LEARNING, 

AND 

THE  MERIT  OF  DISSEMINATING  IT. 

OBJECTIONS    TO    LEARNING. 

To  dear  the  way,  and,  as  it  were,  to  make 
silence,  to  have  the  true  testimonies  concerning 
the  dignify  of  learning  to  be  better  heard, 
without  the  interruption  of  tacit  objections. 

Objections  of  divines 162 

Objections  of  politicians • 1 64 

Objections  from  the  errors  of  learned  men 166 

OBJECTIONS    WHICH    DIVINES    MAKE    TO    LEARNING. 

1.  The  aspiring  to  knowledge  was  the  cause  of  the 

fall 162 

2.  Knowledge  generates  pride 162 

3.  Solomon  says  there  is  no  end  of  making  books,  and  he 

that  increases  knowledge  increases  anxiety  163 
We  must  not  so  place  our  felicity  in  know 
ledge  as  to  forget  our  mortality  :  but  to  give 
ourselves  repose  and  contentment,  and  not  pre 
sume  by  the  contemplation  of  nature  to  attain 
to  the  mysteries  of  God. 

4.  St.  Paul  warns  us  not  to  be  spoiled  through  vain 

philosophy 153 

The  sense  of  men  resembles  the  sun,  which 
opens  and  reveals  the  terrestrial  globe  but  con 
ceals  the  ftars  and  celestial  globe :  hence  men 
fall  who  seek  to  fly  up  to  the  secrets  of  the 
Deity  by  the  waxen  wings  of  the  senses. 

5.  Learned  men  are  inclined  to  be  heretics,  and  learned 

men  to  atheism 163 

//  is  an  assured  truth  and  a  conclusion  of 
experience,  that  a  little  or  superficial  know 
ledge  of  philosophy  may  incline  the  mind  of 
man  to  atheism,  but  a  further  proceeding  there 
in  doth  bring  the  mind  back  again  to  religion. 
VOL,  I — 18 


Let  no  man,  upon  a  weak  conceit  of  sobriety, 
or  an  ill-applied  moderation,  think  or  main 
tain,  that  a  man  can  search  too  far,  or  be  too 
well  studied'' in  the  book  of  God's  word,  or  in 
the  book  of  God's  works  ;  divinity  or  philo 
sophy. 

OBJECTIONS    WHICH    POUTITIANS    MAKE    TO 
LEARNING. 

Learning  softens  men's  minds  and  makes  them  un 
fit  for  arms 1 04 

Alexander  the  Great  and  Julius  Csesar  the 
dictator  ,•  whereof  the  one  was  Aristotle1  s  scho 
lar  in  philosophy,  and  (he  other  was  Cicero's 
rival  in  eloquence  :  or  if  any  man  had  rather 
call  for  scholars  that  were  great  generals,  than 
generals  that  were  great  scholars,  let  him  take. 
Epaminondas  the  Theban,  or  Xcnophon  the 
Athenian. 

Learning  makes  men  unfit  for  civil  affairs. ...  164 
It  is  accounted  an  error  to  commit  a  natural 
body  to  empiric  physicians,  which  commonh/ 
have  a  few  phasing  receipts,  whereupon  they 
are  confident  and  adventurous,  but  know  nei 
ther  the  causes  of  diseases,  nor  the  complexions 
of  patients,  nor  peril  of  accidents,  nor  the  true 
method  of  cures ,-  we  see  it  is  a  like  error  to  rely 
upon  advocates  or  lawyers,  which  are  only  men 
of  practice,  and  not  grounded  in  their  books, 
who  are  many  times  easily  surprised,  when 
matter  falleth  out  besides  their  experience  to 
the  prejudices  of  the  causes  they  handle:  so  by 
like  reason,  it  cannot  be  but  a  matter  of  doubt 
ful  consequence,  if  states  be  managed  by  em 
piric  statesmen,  not  well  mingled  with  men 
grounded  in  learning. 

It  makes  them  irresolute  by  variety  of  reading  164 
It  teacheth  them  when  and  upon  what  ground 
to  resolve,  and  to  carry  things  in  suspense  till 
they  resolve. 

It  makes   them   too   peremptory   by  strictness  of 

rules 165 

It  teacheth  them  when  and  upon  what  ground 
to  resolve,-  yea,  and  how  to  carry  things  in  sus 
pense  without  prejudice,  till  they  resolve  ;  if 
it  make  men  positive  and  regular,  it  teacheth 
them  what  things  are  in  their  nature  demon 
strative,  and  what  are  conjectural ;  and  as 
well  the  use  of  distinctions  and  exceptions,  as 
the  latitude  of  principles  and  rules. 

M  2  137 


138 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


5.  It  makes  them  immoderate  by  greatness  of  exam 

ple 164 

It  teacheth  men  the  force  of  circumstances, 
the  errors  of  comparisons,  and  all  the  cautions 
of  application. 

6.  It  makes  them  incompatible  by  dissimilitude  of  ex 

amples 165 

Let  a  man  look  into  the  errors  of  Clement 
the  Seventh,  so  livelily  described  by  Guicciar- 
dine,  who  served  under  him,  or  into  the  errors 
of  Cicero, painted  out  by  his  own  pencil  in  his 
epistles  to  Atticus,  and  he  will  fly  apace  from 
being  irresolute.  Let  him  look  into  the  errors 
of  Phocion,  and  he  will  beware  how  he  be  ob 
stinate  or  inflexible.  Lei  him  but  read  the 
fable  oflxion,  and  it  will  hold  him  from  being 
vaporous  or  imaginative.  Let  him  look  into 
the  errors  of  Cato  the  Second,  and  he  will  ne 
ver  be  one  of  the  Antipodes,  to  tread  opposite 
to  the  present  world. 

7.  It  disposes  men  to  leisure  and  retirement 165 

It  were  strange  if  that,  which  accustometh 
the  mind  to  a  perpetual  motion  and  agitation, 
should  induce  skthfulness :  of  all  men  they 
are  the  most  indefatigable,  if  it  be  towards 
any  business  that  can  detain  their  minds. 

'The  most  active  or  busy  men  that  hath  been 
or  can  be,  hath,  no  question,  many  vacant  times 
of  leisure,  while  he  expecteth  the  tides  and  re 
turns  of  business.  And,  then  the  question  is, 
but  how  those  spaces  and  times  of  leisure  shall 
be  filled  and  spent ;  whether  in  pleasures  or 
in  studies :  as  was  well  answered  by  Demos 
thenes,  to  his  adversary  JEschines,  that  was  a 
man  given  to  pleasure,  and  told  him,  that  his 
orations  did  smell  of  the  lamp  :  "  Indeed," 
said  Demosthenes,  "  there  is  a  great  difference 
between  the  things  that  you  and  I  do  by  lamp 
light.7' 

8.  It  relaxes  discipline  by  making  men  more  ready  to 

argue  than  to  obey 164 

To  say  that  a  blind  custom  of  obedience 
should  be  a  surer  obligation  than  duty  taught 
and  understood,  is  to  affirm,  that  a  blind  man 
may  tread  surer  by  a  guide  than  a  seeing  man 
can  by  a  light.    And  it  is  without  all  contro 
versy,  that  learning  doth  make  the  minds  of 
/  /  men  gentle,  generous,  maniable,  and  pliant  to 
!  j   government ;  whereas  ignorance  makes  them 
'/     churlish,  thwarting,  and  mutinous. 

OBJECTIONS    TO    LEARNING    FROM    THE    ERRORS    OF 
LEARNED    MEN. 

1.  From  their  fortunes. 

2.  From  their  manners. 

3.  From  the  nature  of  their  studies. 


OBJECTIONS    TO    LEARNING    FROM    THE    FORTUNES 
OF    LEARNED    MEN. 

1 .  Learned  men  are  poor  and  live  in  obscurity. 

Learned  men  forgotten  in  states,  and  not 
living  in  the  eyes  of  men,  are  like  the  images 
of  Cassius  and  Brutus  in  the  Funeral  of  Ju- 
nia :  of  which  not  being  represented,  as  many 
others  were,  Tacitus  saith,  "Eo  ipso  prsefulge- 
bant,  quod  non  visebantur" 

2.  Learned  men  are  engaged  in  mean  employments,  as 

the  education  of  youth. 

We  see  men  are  more  curious  what  they  put 


into  anew  vessel,  than  into  a  vessel  seasoned;- 
and  what  mould  they  lay  about  a  young  plant, 
than  about  a  plant  corroborate :  so  as  the 
weakest  terms  and  times  of  all  things  use  to 
have  the  best  applications  and  helps. 

SECONDLY. 

OBJECTIONS    TO    LEARNING    FROM    THE    MANNERS    OF 
LEARNED    MAN. 

1.  Learned  men  endeavour  to  impose  the  laws  of  an 

cient  severity  upon  dissolute  times. 

Solon,  when  he  was  asked  whether  he  had 
given  his  citizens  the  best  laws,  answered  wise- 

^,  "  Yea,  of  such  as  they  would  receive  /"  and 
lato,  finding  that  his  own  heart  could  not 
agree  with  the  corrupt  manners  of  his  country, 
refused  to  bear  place  or  office. :  faying,  "  TJiat 
a  man's  country  was  to  be  used  as  his  parents 
were,  that  is,  with  humble  persuasions,  and 
not  vrith  contestations." 

2.  Learned  men  prefer  the  public  good  to  their  own 

interest. 

The  corrupt  er  sort  of  mere  polititians,  that 
have  not  their  thoughts  established  by  learning 
in  the  love  and  apprehension  of  duty,  nor  ever 
look  abroad  into  universality,  do  refer  all  things 
to  themselves,  and  thrust  themselves  into  the 
centre  of  the  world,  as  if  all  lints  should  meet 
in  them  and  their  fortunes  •  never  caring,  in 
all  tempests,  what  becomes  of  the  ship  of  state, 
so  they  may  save  themselves  in  the  cockboat  of 
their  own  fortune. 

3.  Learned  men  fail  sometimes  in  applying  themselves 

to  individuals. 
The  reasons  of  this  : 

1.  The  largeness  of  their  minds,  which  cannot  descend 

to  particulars. 

He  that  cannot  contract  the  sight  of  his  mind, 
ax  well  as  disperse  and  dilate  it,  wanteth  a  great 
faculty. 

2.  Learned  men  reject  from  choice  and  judgment 

The  honest  and  just  bounds  of  observation, 
by  one  person  upon  another,  extend  no  farther 
but  to  understand  him  sufficiently,  whereby 
not  to  give  him  offence,  or  whereby  to  be  able 
to  give  him  faithful  counsel,  or  whereby  to 
stand  upon  reasonable  guard  and  caution  in  re 
spect  of  a  man's  self,-  but  to  be  speculative  into 
another  man,  to  the  end  to  know  how  to  work 
him,  or  wind  him,  or  govern  him,  proceedeth 
from  a  heart  that  is  double  and  cloven,  and  not 
entire  and  ingenuous. 

4.  Learned  men  are  negligent  in  their  behaviour. 

Learned  men  should  not  stoop  to  persons, 
although  they  ought  to  submit  to  occasions.1 

THIRDLT. 

OBJECTIONS    TO     LEARNING     FROM    THE    NATURE     OF 
THE    STUDIES    OF    LEARNED    MEN. 

DISTEMPERS    OF    LEARNING. 

1.  Fantastical  learning. 

2.  Contentious  learning. 

3.  Delicate  learning. 

Vain  imaginations :  vain  altercations :  vain 
affectations. 

Delicate  learning 170 

1.  It  is  the  study  of  words,  and  not  of  matter. 

How  is  it  possible  but  this  should  have  ora 

1  See  note  (A)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


139 


operation  to  discredit  learning,  even  with  vul 
gar  capacities,  when  they  see  learned  men's 
works  like  the  first  letter  of  a  patent  or  limned 
book,'  which  though  it  hath  large  Jlourishes, 
yet  it  is  but  a  letter  ?  It  seems  to  me  that 
Pygmalion's  frenzy  is  a  good  emblem  or  por 
traiture  of  this  vanity,  for  words  are  but  the 
images  of  matter  ,-  and  except  they  have  life 
of  reason  and  invention,  to  fall  in  love  with 
them  is  all  one  as  to  fall  in  love  with  a  pic 
ture. 

2.  Origin  of  the  prevalence  of  delicate  learning  in  late 

times  '....... 170 

3.  Delicate  learning  exists  more  or  less  in  all  times  170 

4.  Attention  to  style  ought  not  to  be  neglected  . .    170 

But  yet,  notwithstanding,  it  is  a  thing  not 
hastily  to  be  condemned,  to  clothe  and  adorn 
the  obscurity,  even  of  philosophy  itself,  with 
sensible  and  plausible  elocution  : 

But  the  excess  of  this  is  so  justly  contemp 
tible,  that  as  Hercules,  when  he  saw  the  image 
of  Adonis,  Venus's  minion,  in  a  temple,  said 
in  disdain,  "  Nil  sacri  es ,•"  so  there  is  none 
of  Hercules' s  followers  in  learning,  that  is,  the 
more  severe  and  laborious  sort  of  inquirers  into 
truth,  but  will  despise  those  delicacies  and  af 
fectations,  as  indeed  capable  of  no  divineness. 

Contentious  Learning. 

1.  It  is   vanity  of  matter,  useless  knowledge,  and  is 

worse  than  vanity  of  words 170 

As  many  substances  in  nature,  which  are 
solid,  do  putrefy  and  corrupt  into  worms :  so 
it  is  the  property  of  good  and  sound  know 
ledge,  to  putrefy  and  dissolve  into  a  number 
of  subtle,  idle,  unwholesome,  and,  as  I  may 
term  them,  vermiculate  questions,  which  have 
indeed  a  kind  of  quickness,  and  life  of  spirit, 
but  no  soundness  of  matter  or  goodness  of 
quality. 

2.  Badges  of  false  science 1 70 

1.  Novelty  of  terms. 

2.  Strictness  of  positions. 

3.  Contentious  learning  reigned  chiefly  amongst  the 

schoolmen 170 

The  wit  and  mind  of  man,  if  it  work  upon 
matter,  which  is  the  contemplation  of  the  crea 
tures  of  God,  worketh  according  to  the  stuff", 
and  is  limited  thereby ,-  but  if  it  work  upon 
itself,  as  the  spider  worketh  his  web,  then  it  is 
endless,  and  brings  forth  indeed  cobwebs  of 
learning,  admirable  for  the  fineness  of  thread 
and  work,  but  of  no  substance  or  profit. 

4.  Unprofitable  curiosity  is  of  two  sorts 171 

1.  Fruitless  speculation. 

2.  Erroneous  modes  of  investigation. 

Were  it  not  better  for  a  man  in  a  fair  room 
to  set  up  one  great  light,  or  branching  candle 
stick  of  lights,  than  to  go  about  with  a  small 
watch  candle  into  every  corner  ? 

The  generality  of  the  schoolmen  are  for  a 
while  good  and  proportionable  ,•  but  then,  when 
you  descend  into  their  distinctions  and  deci 
sions,  instead  of  a  fruitful  womb,  for  the  use 
and  benefit  of  man's  life,  they  end  in  monstrous 
altercations  and  barking  questions. 

5.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that  the  learning  of  the  school 

men  was  so  confined 171 

If  those  schoolmen,  to  their  great  thirst  of 

*See  note  (B)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 


truth  and  unwearied  travail  of  wit,  had  joined 
variety  and  universality  of  reading  and  con 
templation,  they  had  proved  excellent  lights, 
to  the  great  advancement  of  all  learning  and 
knowledge,-  but  as  they  are,  they  are  great  un 
dertakers  indeed,  and  fierce  with  dark  keeping. 

Fantastical  Learning. 

1 .  It  is  falsehood,  and  is  the  foulest  of  all  the  distem 

pers  of  learning. 

2.  Different  sorts,  and  their  connection. 

1.  Imposture. 

2.  Credulity. 

1.  In  matters  of  fact. 

1.  In  ecclesiastical  history. 

2.  In  natural  history. 

2.  In  arts  and  sciences. 

1.  In  arts  and  sciences. 

Surely  to  alchymy  this  right  is  due,  that  it 
may  be  compared  to  the  husbandman  whereof 
JEsop  makes  the  fable  ,•  that,  when  he  died, 
told  his  sons,  that  he  had  left  unto  them  gold 
buried  under  ground  in  his  vineyard,-  and 
they  digged  over  all  the  ground,  and  gold  they 
found  none  ,•  but  by  reason  of  their  stirring 
and  digging  the  mould  about  the  roots  of  their 
vines,  they  had  a  great  vintage  the  year  follow 
ing  .•  so  assuredly  the  search  and  stir  to  make 
gold  hath  brought  to  light  a  great  number  of 
good  and  fruitful  inventions  and  experiments, 
as  well  for  the  disclosing  of  nature,  as  for  the 
use  of  man's  life. 

2.  Authors. 

Authors  should  be  as  consuls  to  advise,  not 
as  dictators  to  command. 

Let  great  authors  have  their  due,  as  time, 
which  is  the  author  of  authors,  be  not  de 
prived  of  his  due,  which  is,  further  and  further 
to  discover  truth. 

PECCANT    HUMOURS    OF    LEARJf  1XG. 

1.  The  extreme  affecting  either  of  antiquity  or  no 

velty 172 

"  State  super  vias  antiquas,  et  videte  qux- 
nam  sit  via  recta  et  bona,  et  ambulate  in  ea." 

"  Antiquitas  sseculi  juventus  mundi."  These 
times  are  the  ancient  times,  when  the  world  is 
ancient,  and  not  those  which  we  account  an 
cient  "  ordine  retrograde,"  by  a  computation 
backward  from  ourselves.2 

2.  A  suspicion  that  there  is  nothing  new. 

3.  A  conceit  that  of  former  opinions  or  sects,  after 

variety  and  examination,  the   best   hath  pre- 

vailed 173 

The.  truth  is,  that  time  seemeth  to  be  of  the 
nature  of  a  river  or  stream,  which  carrieth 
down  to  us  that  which  is  light  and  bkwn  up, 
and  sinketh  and  drowneth  that  which  is 
weighty  and  solid. 

4.  The  over  early  and  peremptory  reduction  of  know 

ledge  into  arts  and  methods 173 

As  young  men,  when  they  knit  and  shape 
perfectly,  do  seldom  grow  to  a  further  stature  ; 
so  knowledge,  while  it  is  in  aphorisms  and  ob 
servations,  it  is  in  growth  ,•  but  when  it  once 
is  comprehended  in  exact  methods,  it  may  per 
chance  be  further  polished  and  illustrated,  and 
accommodated  for  use  and  practice  ,•  but  it  in- 
creaseth  no  more  in  bulk  and  substance.3 

a  gee  note  (C)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise, 
z  See  note  (D)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 


140 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


5.  The  abandoning  universality 173 

No  perfect  discovery  can  be  made  upon  a 
flat  or  a  level :  neither  is  it  possible  to  discover 
the  more  remote  and  deeper  parts  of  any 
science,  if  you  stand  but  upon  the  level  of  the 
same  science,  and  ascend  not  to  a  higher 
science.1 

6.  The  having  too  much  reverence  for   the  human 

mind 173 

Upon  these  intellectualists,  which  are,  not 
withstanding;,  commonly  taken  for  the  most 
sublime  and  divine  philosophers,  Heraclitus 
gave  a  just  censure,  saying,  "  Men  sought 
truth  in  their  own  little  worlds,  and  not  in 
the  great  and  common  world" 

7.  The  tainting  doctrines  with  favourite  opinions. 

8.  Impatience  of  doubt,  and  haste  to  assertion.2 

9.  The  delivering  knowledge  too  peremptorily.3 

10.  Being  content  to  work  on  the  labours  of  others 

instead  of  inventing 174 

1 1.  The  mistaking  the  furthest  end  of  knowledge.4   1 73 

Men  have  entered  into  a  desire  of  learning 
and  knowledge,  sometimes  upon  a  natural 
curiosity,  and  inquisitive  appetite ;  sometimes 
to  entertain  their  minds  with  variety  and  de 
light;  sometimes  for  ornament  and  reputation,- 
and  sometimes  to  enable  them  to  victory  of  wit 
and  contradiction ;  and  most  times  for  lucre 
and  profession ;  and  seldom  sincerely  to  give 
a  true  account  of  their  gift  of  reason,  to  the 
benefit  and  use  of  man :  as  if  there  were 
sought  in  knowledge  a  couch,  whereupon  to 
rest  a  searching  and  restless  spirit  ,•  or  a  ter- 
rasse  for  a  wandering  and  variable  mind  to 
walk  up  and  down  with  a  fair  prospect ,-  or  a 
tower  of  state,  for  a  proud  mind  to  raise  itself 
upon,-  or  a  fort  or  commanding  ground,  for 
strife  and  contention;  or  a  shop,  for  profit  or 
sale;  and  not  a  rich  storehouse,  for  the  glory 
of  the  Creator,  and  the  relief  of  man's  estate. 

ADVANTAGES    OF    LEARNING 174 

I  have  no  purpose  to  enter  into  a  laudative 
of  learning,  or  to  make  a  hymn  to  the  muses  ,- 
(though  I  am  of  opinion  that  it  is  long  since 
their  rites  were  duly  celebrated:)  but  my  intent 
is,  without  varnish  or  amplification,  justly  to 
weigh  the  dignity  of  knowledge  in  the  balance 
with  other  tilings,  to  take  the  true  value  there 
of  by  testimonies  and  arguments  divine  and 
human. 
Different  proofs  of  the  advantages  of  knowledge. 

1 .  Divine  proofs 174 

1.  Before  the  creation.5 

»  See  note  (E)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 

a  See  note  (F)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 

a  See  note  (G)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 

«  See  note  (H)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 

B  The  Lord  possessed  me  in  the  beginning  of  his  way,  be 
fore  his  works  of  old. 

I  was  set  up  from  everlasting,  from  the  beginning,  or  ever 
the  earth  was. 

When  there  were  no  depths  I  was  brought  forth;  when 
there  were  no  fountains  abounding  with  water. 

Before  the  mountains  were  settled,  before  the  hills  was  I 
brought  forth. 

While  as  yet  he  had  not  made  the  earth,  nor  the  fields,  nor 
the  highest  part  of  the  dust  of  the  world. 

When  he  prepared  the  heavens  I  was  there :  when  he  set 
a  compass  upon  the  face  of  the  depth : 

When  he  established  the  clouds  above  :  when  he  strengthen 
ed  the  fountains  of  the  deep: 

When  he  gave  to  the  sea  his  decree,  that  the  waters  should 


2.  After  the  creation. 

1.  Before  the  flood. 

2.  After  the  flood. 

1.  Before  Christianity 175 

In  the  law  of  the  leprosy,  it  is  said,  "  If  the 

whiteness  have  overspread  the.  flesh,  the  patient 
may  pass  abroad  for  clean ,-  but  if  there  be  any 
whole  flesh  remaining,  he  is  to  be  shut  up  for 
unclean  ,•"  one  of  them  noteth  a  principle  of 
nature,  that  putrefaction  is  more  contagious 
before  maturity  than  after :  and  another 
noteth  a  position  of  moral  philosophy,  that 
men  abandoned  to  vice  do  not  so  much  corrupt 
manners,  as  those  that  are  half  good  and  half 
evil. 

2.  After  Christianity. 

2.  Human  proofs 177 

1.  Learning  relieves  man's  afflictions  which  arise  from 

nature 177 

Founders  and  uniters  of  states  and  cities, 
lawgivers,  extirpers  of  tyrants,  fathers  of  the 
people,  and  other  eminent  persons  in  civil 
merit,  were  honoured  but  with  the  titles  of 
worthies  or  demi-gods,-  such  as  were  Hercules, 
Theseus,  Minos,  Romulus,  and  the  like :  on 
the  other  side,  such  as  were  inventors  and  au 
thors  of  new  arts,  endowments,  and  commo 
dities  towards  man's  life,  were  ever  consecrated 
amongst  the  gods  themselves :  as  were  Ceres, 
Bacchus,  Mercurius,  Apollo,  and  others :  and 
justly ,-  for  the  merit  of  the  former  is  confined 
within  the  circle  of  an  age  or  a  nation,  and  is 
like  fruitful  showers,  which  though  they  be 
profitable  and  good,  yet  serve  but  for  that  sea 
son,  and  for  a  latitude  of  ground  where  they 
fall ,-  but  the  other  is  indeed  like  the  benefits 
of  heaven,  which  are  permanent  and  universal. 
The  former,  again,  is  mixed  with  strife  and 
perturbation  ,-  but  the  latter  hath  the  true  cha 
racter  of  divine  presence,  coming  "  in  aura 
leni,"  without  noise  or  agitation.6 

2.  Learning  represses  the  inconveniences  which  grow 

from  man  to  man 177 

In  Orpheus' 's  theatre,  all  beasts  and  birds 
assembled;  and  forgetting  their  several  appe 
tites,  some  of  prey,  some  of  game,  some  of 
quarrel^  stood  all  sociably  together  listening  to 
the  airs  and  accords  of  the  harp ,-  the  sound 
whereof  no  sooner  ceased,  or  was  drowned  by 
some  louder  noise,  but  every  beast  returned  to 
his  own  nature :  wherein  is  aptly  described 
the  nature  and  condition  of  men,  who  are  full 
of  savage  and  unreclaimed  desires  of  profit,  of 
lust,  of  revenge ,-  which  as  long  as  they  give 
ear  to  precepts,  to  laws,  to  religion,  siueetly 
touched  with  eloquence  and  persuasion  of  books, 
of  sermons,  of  harangues,  so  long  is  society  and 
peace  maintained;  but  if  these  instruments  be 
silent,  or  sedition  and  tumult  make  them  not 
audible,  all  things  dissolve  into  anarchy  and 
confusion. 

3.  Proof  of  this  position,  by  showing  the  conjunction 

between  learning  in  the  prince  and  happiness 

in  the  people 177 

But  for  a   tablet,   or  picture    of  smaller 

not  pass  his  commandment :  when  he  appointed  the  founda 
tions  of  the  earth : 

Then  I  was  by  him,  as  one  brought  up  with  him :  and  I  was 
daily  his  delight,  rejoicing  always  before  him. 

PROVERBS,  chap.  viii. 

«  See  note  (I)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise, 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


141 


volume,  (not  presuming  to  speak  of  your  ma 
jesty  that  liveth,)  in  my  judgment  the  most 
excellent  is  that  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  your  im 
mediate  predecessor  in  this  part  of  Britain  ,•  a 
princess  that,  if  Plutarch  were  now  alive  to 
write  lives  by  parallels,  would  trouble  him,  I 
think,  to  find  for  her  a  parallel  amongst 
women.  This  lady  was  endued  with  learning 
in  her  sex  singular,  and  rare  even  amongst 
masculine  princes  ,•  whether  we  speak  of  learn 
ing,  language,  or  of  science,  modern  or  ancient, 
divinity  or  humanity :  and  unto  the  very  last 
year  of  her  life  she  was  accustomed  to  appoint 
set  hours  for  reading,  scarcely  any  young  stu 
dent  in  a  university  more  daily,  or  more 
duly.  As  for  her  government,  I  assure  my 
self,  I  shall  not  exceed,  if  1  do  affirm  that  this 
part  of  the  island  never  had  forty-Jive  years 
of  better  times  ,•  and  yet  not  through  the  calm 
ness  of  the  season,  but  through  the  wisdom  of 
her  regimen.  For  if  there  be  considered  of 
the  one  side,  the  truth  of  religion  established, 
the  constant  peace  and  security,  the  good  ad 
ministration  of  justice,  the  temperate  use  of 
the  prerogative,  not  slackened,  nor  much  strain 
ed,  the  Jlourishing  state  of  learning,  sortable 
to  so  excellent  a  patroness,  the  convenient  estate 
of  wealth  and  means,  both  of  crown  and  sub 
ject,  the  habit  of  obedience,  and  the  moderation 
of  discontents  ,•  and  there  be  considered,  on  the 
other  side,  the  differences  of  religion,  the  trou 
bles  of  neighbour  countries,  the  ambition  of 
Spain,  and  opposition  of  Rome,  and  then,  that 
she  was  solitary  and  of  herself :  these  things, 
I  say,  considered,  as  I  could  not  have  chosen  an 
instance  so  recent  and  so  proper,  so,  I  suppose, 
I  could  not  have  chosen  one  more  remarkable 
or  eminent  to  the  purpose  now  in  hand,  which 
is  concerning  the  conjunction  of  learning  in 
the  prince  with  felicity  in  the  peopled . .  178 

3.  There  is  a  concurrence  between  learning  and  mi 

litary  virtue 181 

When  Csesar,  after  war  declared,  did  possess 
himself  of  the  city  of  Rome  ,•  at  which  time 
entering  into  the  inner  treasury  to  take  the 
money  there  accumulated,  Metellus,  being  tri 
bune,  forbade  hi  in:  whereto  Cassarsaid,  "That 
if  he  did  not  desist,  he  would  lay  him  dead  in 
the  place"  And  presently  taking  himself  up, 
he  added,  "  Adolescens,  durius  est  mihi  hoc  di- 
cere  quum  facere."  Young  man,  it  is  harder 
for  me  to  speak  than  to  do  it.  A  speech  com 
pounded  of  the  greatest  terror  and  greatest 
clemency  that  could  proceed  out  of  the  mouth 
of  man. 

4.  Learning  improves  private  virtues 181 

1.  It  takes  away  the  barbarism  of  men's  minds. 

"  Scilicet  ing-enuas  didicisse  fideliter  artes, 
Emollit  mores,  nee  sinit  esse  feros." 

2.  It  takes  away  levity,  temerity,  and  insolency. 

3.  It  takes  away  vain  admiration 182 

If  a  man  meditate  much  upon  the  universal 
frame  of  nature,  the  earth  with  men  upon  it, 
the  divineness  of  souls  excepted,  wil(  not  seem 
much  other  than  an  ant  hill,  where  as  some 
ants  carry  corn,  and  some  carry  their  young, 
and  some  go  empty,  and  all  to  and  fro  a  little 
heap  of  dust. 

»  This  beautiful  passage  is  omitted  in  the  Treatise  De  Aug- 


4.  It  mitigates   the  fear  of  death   or  adverse   for 

tune. 

Virgil  did  excellently  and  profoundly  couple 
the  knowledge  of  causes  and  the  conquest  of 
all  fears  together,  as  "concomitantia." 

"  Felix  qui  potuit  reri/m  cognoscere  causas^ 
Quique  metus  omnes,  et  inexorabile  fatum 
Subjecit  pedibus,  strcpitumque  Acherontis  avari." 

5.  It  disposes  the  mind  not  to  be  fixed  in  its  de 

fects  182 

The  unlearned  man  knows  not  what  it  is  to 
descend  into  himself,  or  to  call  himself  to  ac 
count  ;  nor  the  pleasure  of  that  "suavissima 
vita,  indies sentire  se fieri  meliorem" 

Certain  it  is  that  "veritas"  and  "bonitas" 
differ  but  as  the  seal  and  the  print :  for  truth 
prints  goodness  /  and  they  be  the  clouds  of  er 
ror  which  descend  in  the  storms  of  passions 
and  perturbations. 
Learning  is  power.2 

Learning  advances  fortune 183 

The  pleasure  of  knowledge  is  the  greatest  of  plea 
sures  1 83 

We  see  in  all  other  pleasures  there  is  satiety, 
and  after  they  be  used,  their  verdure  departeth  ,- 
which  showeth  well  they  be  but  deceits  of  plea 
sure,  and  not  pleasures ,-  and  that  it  ivas  the 
novelty  which  pleased,  and  not  the  quality  : 
and  therefore  we  see  that  voluptuous  men  turn 
friars,  and  ambitious  princes  turn  melancholy.  \  \ 
But  of  knowledge  there  is  no  satiety,  but   \  \ 
satisfaction  and  appetite  are  perpetually  in 
terchangeable. 

M  is  a  view  of  delight,  to  stand  or  walk 
upon  the,  shore  side,  and  to  see  a  ship  tossed 
with  tempest  upon  the  sea,-  or  to  be  in  a  for 
tified  tower,  and  to  see  two  battles  join  upon  a 
plain  ;  but  it  is  a  pleasure  incomparable,  for 
the  mind  of  man  to  be  settled,  landed,  and  for 
tified  in  the  certainty  of  truth  ,•  and  from 
thence  to  descry  and  behold  the  errors,  pertur 
bations,  labours,  and  ivanderings  up  and  down 
of  other  men. 
Learning  insures  immortality 183 

If  the  invention  of  the  ship  tuas  thought  so 
noble,  which  carrieth  riches  and  commodities 
from  place  to  place,  and  consociafelh  the  most 
remote  regions  in  participation  of  their  f  mils, 
how  much  more  are  letters  to  be  magnified, 
which,  as  ships,  pass  through  the  vast  seas  of 
time,  and  make  ages  so  distant  to  participate 
of  the  wisdom,  illuminations,  and  inventions, 
the  one  of  the  other  ? 

Nevertheless,  I  do  not  pretend,  and  I  know 
it  will  be  impossible  for  me,  by  any  pleading 
of  mine,  to  reverse  the  judgment,  either  of 
JEsop's  cock,  that  preferred  the  barleycorn  be 
fore  the  gem  ,•  or  of  Midas,  that  being  zhosen 
judge  between  Apollo  president  of  the  Muses, 
and  Pan  god  of  the  flocks,  judged  for  plenty  ,- 
or  of  Paris,  that  judged  for  beauty  and  love 
against  wisdom  and  power ;  nor  of  Agrippi- 
na,  "occidat  matrem,  modo  imperet,"  that  pre 
ferred  empire  with  conditions  never  so  detesta 
ble  ;  or  of  Ulyssus,  "  qui  vetulam  prsetulit 
immortalitati"  being  a  figure  of  those  which 
prefer  custom  and  habit  before  all  excellency  ; 
or  of  a  number  of  the  like  popular  judgments . 

9  See  note  (L)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 


142 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


For  these  things  continue  as  they  have  been  : 
but  so  will  that  also  continue  whereupon 
learning  hath  ever  relied,  and  which  faileth 
not :  "justifaata  est  sapientia  afiliis  suis" 


BOOK  II. 
WHAT  HAS  BEEN  DONE 

FOR 

THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING, 

AND 

WHAT  IS  OMITTED. 


1.  Dedication  to  the  king 184 

2.  Preliminary  considerations. 

1.  Modes  by  which  difficulties  are  overcome. 

1.  Amplitude  of  reward  to  encourage  ex 
ertion. 

2.  Soundness  of  direction  to  prevent  con 
fusion. 

3.  Conjunction  of  labours  to  supply  the 
frailty  of  man. 

2.  The  objects  about  which  the  acts  of  merit 

towards  learning  are  conversant. ...    184 

1.  The  places  of  learning. 

2.  The  books  of  learning. 

3.  The  persons  of  the  learned 

I.    THE    PLACES    OF    LEARNING. 

As  water,  whether  it  be  the  dew  of  heaven 
or  the  springs  of  the  earth,  doth  scatter  and 
lose  itself  in  the  ground,  except  it  be  collected 
into  some  receptacle,  where  it  may  by  union 
comfort  and  sustain  itself,  (and  for  that  cause 
the  industry  of  man  hath  made  and  framed 
springheads,  conduits,  cisterns,  and  pooh 
which  men  have  accustomed  likewise  to  beau 
tify  and  adorn  with  accomplishments  of 
magnificence  and  state,  as  well  as  of  use  and 
necessity,')  so  this  excellent  liquor  of  know 
ledge,  whether  it  descend  from  divine  inspira 
tion,  or  spring  from  human  sense,  would  soor 
perish  and  vanish  to  oblivion,  if  it  were  no 
preserved  in  books,  traditions,  conferences,  anc 
places  appointed,  as  universities,  colleges,  am 
schools,  for  the  receipt  and  comforting  of  th 
same. 
1.  Works  relating  to  places  of  learning. 

1.  Foundations  and  buildings. 

2.  Endowments  with  revenues. 

3.  Endowments  with  franchises. 

4.  Institutions  for  government. 

II.    THE    BOOKS    OF    LEARNING 18 

1.  Libraries. 

They  are  as  the  shrines  where  all  the  relic 
of  the  ancient  saints,  full  of  true  virtue,  an 
that  without  delusion  or  imposture,  are  pn 
served  and  reposed. 

2.  New  editions  of  authors. 


III.    THE    PERSONS    OF   THE    LEARNED. 

1.  Learned  men  should  be  countenanced. 

2.  There  should  be  rewards. 


IS 


1.  For  readers  in  sciences  extant. 

2.  For  inventors. 
Defects  of  universities. 

First  defect.     Colleges  are  all  dedicated  to  profes 
sions  1 85 

If  men  judge  that  learning  should  be  re 
ferred  to  action,  they  judge  well,-  but  in  this 
they  fall  into  the  error  described  in  the  ancient 
fable,  in  which  the  other  parts  of  the  body  did 
suppose  the  stomach  had  been  idle,  because  it 
neither  performed  the  office  of  motion,  as  the 
limbs  do ;  nor  of  sense,  as  the  head  doth  ,•  but 
yet,  notwithstanding,  it  is  the  stomach'  that 
digesteth  and  distributeth  to  all  the  rest.-  so 
if  any  man  think  philosophy  and  universality 
to  be  idle  studies,  he  doth  not  consider  that  all 
professions  are  from  thence  served  and  sup 
plied.  And  this  I  take  to  be  a  great  cause 
inat  hath  hindered  the  progression  of  learn 
ing,  because  these  fundamental  knowledges 
have  been  studied  but  in  passage.  For  if  you 
will  have  a  tree  bear  more  fruit  than  it  hath 
used  to  do,  it  is  not  any  thing  you  can  do  to 
the  boughs,  but  it  is  the  stirring  of  the  earth, 
and  putting  new  mould  about  the  roots,  that 
must  work  it. 

It  is  injurious  to  government  that  there  is 

not  any  collegiate  education  for  statesmen  185 

Second  defect.     The  salaries   of  lecturers  are   too 

small 1 85 

If  you  will  have  sciences  Jlourish,  you  must 
observe  David's  military  law,  which  was, 
"  That  those  which  stayed  with  the  carriage 
should  have  equal  part  with  those  which  were 
in  the  action" 

Third  defect.  There  are  not  sufficient  funds  for 
providing  models,  instruments,  experiments, 

&c.' 186 

Fourth  defect.  There  is  a  neglect  in  the  gover 
nors  of  consultation,  and,  in  superiors  of  visi 
tation  as  to  the  propriety  of  continuing  or 
amending  the  established  courses  of  study  186 

1.  Scholars  study  logic  and  rhetoric  2 186 

For  minds  empty  and  un fraught  with 
matter,  and  ivhich  have  not  gathered  that 
which  Cicero  calleth  "  sylva"  and  "  supellex,'' 
stuff  and  variety,  to  begin  with  those  arts, 
(as  if  one  should  learn  to  weigh,  or  to  mea 
sure,  or  to  paint  the  wind,}  doth  work  but 
this  effect,  that  the  wisdom  of  those  arts, 
which  is  great  and  universal,  is  almost  made 
contemptible,  and  is  degenerate  into  childish 
sophistry  and  ridiculous  affectation.2 

2.  There  is  too  great  a  divorce  between  invention  and 

memory 186 

Fifth  defect.  There  is  a  want  of  mutual  intelli 
gence  between  different  universities 186 

Sixth  defect.  There  is  a  want  of  proper  rewards 
for  inquiries  in  new  and  unlaboured  parts  of 

learning 186 

The  opinion  of  plenty  is  amongst  the  causes 
of  want,  and  the  great  quantity  of  books 
maketh  a  show  rather  of  superfluity  than 
lack  .-  which  surcharge,  nevertheless,  is  not  to 
be  remedied  by  making  no  more  books,  but  by 
making  more  good  books,  which,  as  the  ser 
pent  of  Moses,  might  devour  the  serpents  of 
the  enchanters 

'  See  note  (M)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 
3  See  note  (N)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


143 


I  will  now  attempt  to  make  a  general  and 
faithful  perambulation  of  learning,  with  an 
inquiry  what  parts  thereof  lie  fresh  and 
waste 187 

DIVISION    OF    LEARNING,  HUMAN    AND    DIVINE.    187 

1.  History  relating  to  the  memory. 

2.  Poetry  relating  to  the  imagination. 

3.  Philosophy  relating  to  the  reason. 

BISTORT. 

Division. 

1.  Natural. 

2.  Civil. 

3.  Ecclesiastical. 

4.  Literary. 

LITERARY    HISTORY 187 

!.  It  is  the  history  of  learning  from  age  to  age. 

2.  It  is  in  general  deficient,  but  there  are  some  slight 

memorials  of  particular  sects  and  sciences. 

3.  The  uses  of  literary  history. 

Natural  History^ 187 

Division. 

1.  Of  creatures. 

2.  Of  marvels. 

3.  Of  arts. 

History  of  Creatures. 

1.  It  is  the  history  of  nature  in  course. 

2.  It  is  extant  and  in  perfection. 

History  of  Marvels. 

1.  It  is  the  history  of  nature  wandering. 

2.  It  is  deficient. 

3.  Its  uses. 

1.  To  correct  the  partiality  of  axioms. 

2.  To  discover  the  wonders  of  art. 

It  is,  as  it  were,  hounding  Nature  in  her 

wanderings  to  be  able  to  lead  her  afterwards 

to  the  same  place  again. 

4    Different  marvels, 

History  of  Arts  2 188 

1*   It  is  in  general  deficient. 

2    It  is  considered  not  elevating  to  inquire  into  mat 
ters  mechanical 188 

The  truth  is,  they  be  not  the  highest  in 
stances  that  give  the  securest  information  ,•  as 
may  be  well  expressed  in  the  tale  so  common 
of  the  philosopher,  that  while  he  gazed  up 
wards  to  the  stars  fell  into  the  water  ;  for  if 
he  had  looked  down  he  might  have  seen  the 
stars  in  the  water,  but  looking  aloft  he  could 
not  see  the  water  in  the  stars.  So  it  cometh 
often  to  pass,  that  mean  and  small  things 
discover  great,  better  than  great  can  discover 
the  small 

Aristotle  noteth  well,  "  that  the  nature  of 
every  thing  is  best  seen  in  its  smallest  portions." 
And  for  that  cause  he  inquireth  the  nature  of 
a  commonwealth,  first  in  a  family,. and  the 
simple  conjugations  of  man  and  wife,  parent 
and  child,  master  and  servant,  which  are  in 
every  cottage. 

The  turning  of  iron  touched  with  the  load 
stone  towards  the  north,  was  found  out  in 
needles  of  iron,  not  in  bars  of  iron. 

1  The  arrangement  of  this  part  is  altered  in  the  Treatise 
JJe  Augmentis. 
9S<?e  note  (O)  at  tli3  end  of  this  Treatise. 


^  As  a  man's  disposition  is  never  well  known 
till  he  be  crossed,  nor  Proteus  ever  changed 
shapes  till  he  was  straitened  and  held  fast  ,• 
so  the  passages  and  variations  of  nature  can 
not  appear  so  fully  in  the  liberty  of  nature, 
as  in  the  trials  and  vexations  of  art. 

CIVIL    BISTORT 189 

Division. 

1.  Memorials. 

2.  Perfect  Histories. 

3.  Antiquities. 

Of  pictures  or  images,  we  see,  some  are  un 
finished,  some  are  perfect,  and  some  are  de 
faced. 

Memorials. 

1.  Memorials  are  preparations  for  history. 

2.  Different  sorts ;  commentaries,  registers. 

3.  They  are  naturally  imperfect. 

Antiquities. 

1.  They  are  the  remnant  of  history. 

They  are  as  planks  saved  from  the  ufeluge. 
of  time. 

2.  Epitomes  should  be  abolished. 

They  are  as  the  moths  of  history  that  have 
fretted  and  corroded  the  sound  bodies  of  many 
excellent  histories. 

Perfect  History. 
Division  and  their  relative  merits 189 

1.  Chronicles. 

2.  Biography. 

3.  Relations. 

Biography. 

1.  It  is  the  most  useful  of  all  history. 

2.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that  biography  is  not  more  fre 

quent 190 

One  of  the  poets  feigned  that  at  the  end  of 
the  thread  or  web  of  every  man's  life  there 
was  a  little  medal  containing  the  person's 
name,  and  that  Time  waited  upon  the  shears,- 
and  as  soon  as  the  thread  was  cut,  caught  the 
medals,  and  carried  them  to  the  river  of  Lethe,- 
and  about  the  bank  there  were  many  birds 
flying  up  and  down,  that  would  get  the  me 
dals  and  carry  them  in  their  beak  a  little 
while,  and  then  let  them  fall  into  the  river  ; 
only  there  were  a  few  swans,  which  if  they  got 
a  name,  would  carry  it  to  a  temple  where  it 
was  consecrated. 

3.  Impropriety  of  disregarding  posthumous  fame  190 

Chronicles. 

1.  Chronicles  excel  for  celebrity 189 

2.  The  heathen  antiquities  are  deficient 189 

3.  Bacon  recommends  a  history  of  England  from  the 

union  of  the  roses  to  the  union  of  the  king 
doms  190 

Relations. 

1.  They  excel  in  verity  and  sincerity 189 

2.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that  there  is  not  more  diligence 

in  relations 190 

The  collection  of  such  relations  might  be  as 
a  nursery  garden,  whereby  to  plant  a  fair 
and  stately  garden,  when  time  should  serve. 

3.  Annals  and  journals. 


144 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING,. 


Mixed  History 191 

1.  A  mixture  of  selected  pieces  of  history. 

2.  Cosmography. 

Eccksiastical  History 191 

1 .  It  has  a  common  division  analogous  to  the  division 

of  common  civil  history. 

1.  Ecclesiastical  chronicles. 

2.  Lives  of  the  fathers. 

3.  Relations  of  synods. 

2.  Proper  division ^ 191 

1.  History  of  the  church. 

2.  History  of  prophecy. 

3.  History  of  providence. 

History  of  the  Church. 

1.  It  describes  the  state  of  the  church  in  persecution, 

in  remove,  and  in  peace. 

The  ark  in  the  deluge :  the  ark  in  the  wil 
derness  :  and  the  ark  in  the  temple. 

2,  It  is  more  wanting  in  sincerity  than  in  quantity. 

History  of  Prophecy. 

1.  It  is  the  history  of  the  prophecy  and  of  the  accom 

plishment. 

2.  Every  prophecy  should  be  sorted  with  the  event. 

3.  It  is  deficient. 

History  of  Providence. 

1.  It  is  the  history  of  the  correspondence  between 

God's  revealed  will  and  his  secret  will. 

2.  It  is  not  deficient. 

Appendices  to  History. 

1.  Different  sorts. 

1.  Orations. 

2.  Epistles. 

3.  Apophthegms. 

2.  Relative  advantages  of  orations,  epistles,  and  apoph 

thegms. 

3.  They  are  not  deficient. 

Poesy 192 

1.  Division. 

1.  As  it  refers  to  words. 

2.  As  it  refers  to  matter. 

2.  Poetry  as  it  refers  to  words  is  but  a  character  of 

style,  and  is  not  pertinent  to  this  place. 

3.  Poetry  as  it  refers  to  the  matter. 

1.  It  is  fiction,  and  relates  to  the  imagination. 

2.  It  is  in  words  restrained :    in  matter  un 
licensed. 

The  imagination  not  being  tied  to  the  laws 
of  matter,  may  at  pleasure  join  that  luhich 
nature  hath  severed,  and  sever  that  which  na 
ture  hath  joined,-    and  so  make  unlawful 
matches  and  divorces  of  things. 
Pictoribus  atque  poetis, 
Quidlibet  audendi,  semper  fuit  aqua  potestas. 

4.  Its  use  is  to  satisfy  the  mind  in  these  points  where 

nature  does  not  satisfy  it. 

It  was  ever  thought  to  have  some  partici 
pation  of  divineness,  because  it  doth  raise  and 
erect  the  mind,  by  submitting  the  shows  of 
things  to  the  desires  of  the  mind,-  whereas 
reason  doth  buckle  and  bow  the  mind  into  the 
nature  of  things.1 

Poesy  joined  with  music  hath  had  access 
and  estimation  in  rude  times  and  barbarous 
regions,  where  other  learning  stood  excluded. 

t  Sir  Philip  Sidney  says,  poesy,  the  sweel  food  of  sweetly 
uttered  knowledge,  lifts  the  mind  from  the  dungeon  of  the 
body  to  the  enjoying  its  own  divine  essence. 


5.  Division  of  poesy. 

1.  Common — the  same  as  in  history, 

2.  Proper  division. 

1.  Narrative  or  heroical. 

2.  Representative  or  dramatical. 

3.  Allusive  or  parabolical. 

Narrative  Poesy. 
Parabolical  Poesy. 

1.  It  was  never  common  in  ancient  times. 

2.  Its  uses. 

1 .  To  elucidate  truths. 

2.  To  concert  truths.2 

3.  Of  the  interpretation  of  mysteries,  paraboli 
cal  poesy. 

In  poesy  there  is  no  deficience  ,•  for,  being  as 
a  plant  that  cometh  of  the  lust  of  the  earth, 
without  a  formal  seed,  it  hath  sprung  up  and 
spread  abroad  more  than  any  other  kind :  but 
to  ascribe  unto  it  that  which  is  due,  for  the 
expressing  of  affections,  passions,  corruptions, 
and  customs,  we  are  beholding  to  poets  more 
than  to  the  philosopher's  works  ,•  and  for  wit 
and  eloquence,  not  much  less  than  to  orators' 
harangues.  But  it  is  not  good  to  stay  too 
long  in  the  theatre.  Let  us  now  pass  on  to 
the  judicial  place  or  palace  of  the  mind,  which 
we  are  to  approach  and  view  with  more  reve- 
ence  and  attention. 

Philosophy 193 

1.  Division. 

1.  From  the  light  of  nature. 

1.  Divine,  or  natural  religion. 

2.  Natural,  the  knowledge  of  nature. 

3.  Human,  the  knowledge  of  man. 

2.  From  divine  inspiration  or  revealed  religion. 

PRIMITIVE    On    GENERAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

It  is  a  receptacle  for  all  such  profitable  observa 
tions  and  axioms  as  fall  not  within  the  compass  of  any 
of  the  special  parts  of  philosophy  or  sciences,  but  are 
more  common  and  of  a  higher  stage. 

Is  not  the  precept  of  a  musician,  to  fall  from 
a  discord  or  harsh  accord  upon  a  concord,  or 
sweet  accord,  alike  true  in  affection  ?  Is  not 
the  trope  of  music,  to  avoid  or  slide  from  the 
close  or  cadence,  common  with  the  trope  of 
rhetoric  of  deceiving  expectation?  Is  not 
the  delight  of  the  quavering  upon  a  stop  in 
music  the  same  with  the  playing  of  light 
upon  the  water  ? 

"  Splendet  tremnlo  sub  lumine  pontits." 
Because  the  distributions  and  partitions  of 
knowledge  are  not  like  several  lines  that  meet  in 
one  angle,  and  so  touch  but  in  a  point ;  but  are 
like  branches  of  a  tree,  that  meet  in  a  stem,  which 
hath  a  dimension  and  quantity  of  entireness 
and  continuance,  before  it  come  to  discontinue 
and  break  itself  into  arms  and  boughs  ,•  there 
fore  it  is  good,  before  we  enter  into  the  former 
'distribution,  to  erect  and  constitute  one  uni 
versal  science,  by  the  name  of  "  Philosophia 
Prima"  primitive  or  summary  philosophy, 
as  the  main  and  common  way,  before  we  come 
where  the  ways  part  and  divide  themselves. 

This  science  is  as  a  common  parent,  like 
unto  Berecynthia,  which  had  so  much  heavenly 
issue. 

"  Omnes  ccdidas,  omnes  super  alta  lenentes." 
*  This  is  much  expanded  in  the  Treatise  De  Augmentis. 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


145 


NATURAL    RELIGION 194 

1.  It  is 

That  knowledge  or  rudiment  of  knowledge 
concerning  God,  which  may  be  obtained  by 
the  contemplation  of  his  creatures. 

2.  The  proper  limits  of  this  knowledge  are  that  it  suf- 

ficeth  to  convince  atheism 194 

3.  It  is  not  safe  from  contemplations  of  nature  to  judge 

upon  questions  of  faith  . 195 

Men  and  gods  were  not  able  to  draw  Ju 
piter  down  to  the  earth;  but  contrariwise, 
Jupiter  was  able  to  draw  them  up  to  heaven. 

4.  This  is  not  deficient,  but  not  restrained  within  pro 

per  limits. 

5.  Of  angels. 

It  is  no  more  unlawful  to  inquire  the  na 
ture  of  evil  spirits,  than  to  inquire  the  force 
of  poisons  in  nature,  or  the  nature  of  sin  and 
vice  in  morality. 

6.  Inquiries  respecting  angels  are  not  deficient. 

NATURAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

1.  Division. 

1.  Speculative  or  inquisition  of  causes. 

2.  Operative  or  production  of  effects  ....   195 
If  then,  it  be  true  that  Democritus  said, 

"  That  the  truth  of  nature  lieth  hid  in  certain 
deep  mines  and  caves  .•"  and  if  it  be  true  like 
wise  that  the  alchy mists  do  so  much  inculcate, 
that  Vulcan  is  a  second  nature,  and  imitateth 
that  dexterously  and  compendiously,  which 
nature  worketh  by  ambages  and  length  of 
time,  it  were  good  to  divide  natural  philosophy 
into  the  mine  and  the  furnace,-  and  to  make 
two  professions  or  occupations  of  natural  phi 
losophers,  some  to  be  pioneers  and  some  smiths  ,- 
some  to  dig,  and  some  to  refine  and  hammer. 

2.  Connection  between  cause  and  effect 195 

SPECULATIVE    NATURAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

1.  Division. 

1.  Physic. 

2.  Metaphysic. 

2.  Of  the  impropriety  of  using  new  words  for  new 

ideas. 

3.  Of  the  meaning  of  the  words  physic  and  meta- 

physic 196 

PHYSIC. 

1 .  Physic  contemplates  the  efficient  cause  what  is  in 

herent  in  matter  and  transitory 196 

2.  Physic  is  situate  between  natural  history  and  meta- 

physic 196 

3.  Division  of  physic. 

1.  As  it  respects  nature  united 196 

1.  The  doctrine  of  the  contexture  or 

configuration  of  things. 

2.  The  doctrine  concerning  the  princi 

ples  of  things. 

2.  As  it  respects  nature  diffused. 

4.  It  is  not  deficient 196 

METAPHYSIC. 

Formal  Causes. 

It  inquires  into  formal  and  final  causes 196 

1.  Inquiry  whether  forms  are  discoverable. 

1.  Their  discovery  is  of  the  utmost  importance. 
They  are  ill  discoverers  that  think  there  is 
no  land,  when  they  can  see  nothing  but  sea. 

1  In  the  Treatise  De  Augmentis  there  is  in  this  place,  a 
considerable  addition. 

VOL.  I.— 19 


2.  Plato  discovered  that  forms  were  the  true 

objects  of  knowledge. 
Plato  beheld  all  things  as  from  a  cliff. 

2.  By  keeping  a  watchful  and  severe  eye  upon  action 

and  use,  forms  may  be  discovered 197 

3.  The  forms  of  nature  in  her  more  simple  exist 

ence  are  first  to  be  determined 197 

4.  Physic  makes  inquiry  of   the  same  natures  as 

metaphysic,  but  only  as  to  efficient  causes.    197 

5.  This  part  of  metaphysic  is  defective. 

6.  The  use  of  this  part  of  metaphysic. 

1.  To  abridge  the  infinity  of  individual  ex 

perience. 

That  knowledge  is  worthiest,  which  is 
charged  with  least  multiplicity  ,•  which  ap- 
peareth  to  be  Metaphysic  ,•  as  that  which 
considereth  the  simple  for?ns  or  differences  of 
things,  which  are  few  in  number,  and  the  de 
grees  and  co-ordinations  whereof  make  all 
this  variety. 

2.  To  enfranchise  the  power  of  man  by  facili 

tating  the  production  of  effects. 

Of  Final  Causes 198 

1.  The  inquiry  of  final  causes  is  not  deficient,  but  has 

been  misplaced. 

1.  The  investigating  final  causes  in  physics 

has  intercepted  the  true  inquiry  of  real 

physical  causes. 

To  say  that  the  hairs  of  the  eyelids  are  for 
a  quickset  and  fence  about  the  sight ,-  or  that 
the  firmness  of  the  skins  and  hides  of  living 
creatures  is  to  defend  them  from  the  extremi 
ties  of  heat  or  cold  ,-  or  that  the  bones  are  for 
the  columns  or  beams,  whereupon  the  frames 
of  the  bodies  of  living  creatures  are  built,-  or 
that  the  leaves  of  trees  are  for  protecting  of 
the  fruit ,-  or  that  the  clouds  are  for  the  wa 
tering  of  the  earth,-  or  that  the  solidness  of 
the  earth  is  for  the  station  and  mansion  of 
living  creatures,  and  the  like,  is  well  inquired 
and  collected  in  Metaphysic,-  but  in  Phy 
sic  they  are  impertinent.  Nay,  they  are 
indeed  but  remoras  and  hinderances  to  stay 
and  slug  the  ship  from  further  sailing ,-  and 
have  brought  this  to  pass,  that  the  search  of 
the  physical  causes  hath  been  neglected,  and 
passed  in  silence. 

2.  Of  the  errors  in  ancient  philosophy  from 

mixing  formal  and  final  causes . .  198 
Not  because  those  final  causes  are  not  true, 
and  worthy  to  be  inquired,  being  kept  within 
their  own  province,-  but  because  their  excur 
sions  into  the  limits  of  physical  causes  hath 
bred  a  vastness  and  solitude  in  that  track. 

2.  There  is  no  repugnance  between  formal  and  final 

causes 198 

3.  These  opinions  confirm  divine  providence 

Mathematic 198 

1.  Reason  for  classing  it  as  a  part  of  metaphysic. 

2.  From  the  nature  of  the  mind  to  wander  in  gene 

ralities,  mathematics  have  more  laboured  than 
any  other  form. 

3.  There  is  no  difference  in  mathematics 198 

4.  Division  of  mathematics :   1st,  pure;  2d,  mixed. 

Pure  Mathematics. 

1.  It   is  that  science  which  handles  quantity  deter 
minate,  merely  severed  from  axioms  of  natural 
philosophy,  and  is  geometry  or  arithmetic.   199 
N. 


146 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


2.  Pure  mathematics  cure  many  intellectual  defects. 

If  the  wit  be  too  dull,  they  sharpen  it ;  if 
too  wandering,  they  fix  it  ,-  if  too  inherent  in 
the  sense,  they  abstract  it.  So  that  as  tennis 
is  a  game  of  no  use  in  itself,  but  of  great  use 
in  respect  it  maketh  a  quick  eye  and  a  body 
ready  to  put  itself  into  all  postures  ;  so  in 
the  mathematics,  that  use  which  is  collateral 
and  intervenient  is  no  less  worthy  than  that 
which  is  principal  and  intended. 

Mixed  Mathematics 199 

1.  Its  subject  is  some  axioms  or  points  of  natural  phi 

losophy,  and  considers  quantity  determined,  as 
auxiliary  and  incident  to  them,  as  perspective, 
music,  architecture,  &c. 

2.  They  will  increase  as  nature  is  more  disclosed. 

OPERATIVE    NATURAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

1.  It  is  the  production  of  effects. 

2.  Division. 

1.  Experimental. 

2.  Philosophical. 

3.  Magical. 

3.  Of  the  analogy  between  this  division  and  the  divi 

sion  of  speculative  natural  philosophy. . .    199 

4.  The  knowledge  of  physical  causes  will  lead  to  new 

particulars. 

Magical. 

1.  Natural  magic  is  defective 199 

2  Appendices  hereto  are, 

1st.  A  calendar  of  inventions. 

2d.  A  calendar  of  discoveries  which  may 

lead  to  other  inventions 199 

The  invention  of  the  mariner's  needle,  which 
giveth  the  direction,  is  of  no  less  benefit  for 
navigation  than  the  invention  of  the  sails, 
which  give  the  motion. 

3  Conclusion  of  natural  philosophy,  speculative  and 

operative. 

The  voice,  of  nature  will  consent,  whether 
the  voice  of  man  do  or  not.  And  as  Alexan 
der  Borgia  was  wont  to  say  of  the  expedition 
of  the  French  for  Naples,  that  they  came  with 
chalk  in  their  hands  to  mark  up  their  lodgings, 
and  not  with  weapons  to  fight :  so  I  like  bet 
ter  that  entry  of  truth  which  cometh  peace 
ably,  with  chalk  to  mark  up  those  minds 
which  are  capable  to  lodge  and  harbour  it, 
than  that  which  cometh  with  pugnacity  and 
contention. 

Of  Doubts 200 

1.  Division  of  doubts. 

1.  Particular. 

2.  Total. 

2.  Particular  doubts. 

1.  Uses  of  registering  doubts. 

2.  Of  the  evil  of  continuing  doubts. 
That  use  of  wit  and  knowledge  is  to  be  al 
lowed,   which    laboureth  to   make    doubtful 
things  certain,  and  not  those  which  labour  to 
make  certain  things  doubtful. 

Of  a  Calendar  of  Popular  Errors. 

General  doubts,  or  those  differences  of  opinions,  touch 
ing  the  principles  of  nature  which  have  caused 

the  diversities  of  sects 200 

Thus  have  we  now  dealt  with  two  of  the 
three  beams  of  man's  knowledge}  that  is 


"Radius  directus"  which  is  referred  to  nature, 
"Radius  refractus"  which  is  referred  to  God; 
and  cannot  report  truly  because  of  the  inequa 
lity  of  the  medium.-  there  resteth  "Radius 
reflexus,"  whereby  man  beholdeth  and  cont em- 
plat eth  himself. 

HUMAN    PHILOSOPHY,    OR    THE    KNOWLEDGE    OF 

MAN' 201 

1.  The  knowledge  of  men  deserves  more  accurate  in 

vestigation,  because  it  touches  us  more  nearly. 

2.  The  knowledge  of  man  is  to  man  the  end  of  all 

knowledge:  but  of  nature  herself  a  portion 
only. 

All  partitions  of  knoviledge  should  be  ac 
cepted  rather  for  lines  and  veins,  than  for 
sections  and  separations,-  that  the  continuance 
and  entireness  of  knowledge  be  preserved. 

3.  Division  of  human  philosophy. 

1.  Man  as  an  individual. 

2.  Man  as  a  member  of  society. 

MAN    AS    AN    INDIVIDUAL. 

1.  Division. 

1.  The  undivided  state  of  man. 

1.  Discovery. 

2.  Impression. 

2.  The  divided  state  of  man. 

Discovery. 

1.  The  art  of  ascertaining  the  state  of  the  mind  from  the 

appearance  of  the  body,  as  physiognomy,  &c. 

2.  The  art  of  ascertaining  the  state  of  the  body  from 

the  appearance  of  the  mind,  as  exposition  of 
dreams,  &c. 

Physiognomy 201 

1.  The  discovery  of  the  mind  from  the  appearance  of 

the  body. 

2.  Aristotle  has  laboured  physiognomy  as  far  as  relates 

to  the  countenance  at  rest ;  but  not  when  in 
motion. 

3.  The  lineaments  of  the  body  disclose  the  general  in 

clinations  of  the  mind :  the  motions  its  present 
dispositions. 

A  number  of  subtle  persons,  whose  eyes  do 
dwell  upon  the  faces  and  fashions  of  men,  do 
well  know  the  advantage  of  this  observation, 
as  being  most  part  of  their  ability. 

Impression. 

1.  It  is  the  science  of  the  relative  action  of  the  body 

and  mind  upon  each  other. 

2.  Of  the  action  of  the  body  on  the  mind. 

1 .  This  has  been  inquired  as  a  part  of  medicine. 

2.  The  doctrine  that  the  body  acts  upon  the 

mind  does  not  derogate  from  the  soul's 

dignity. 

The  infant  in  the  mother's  womb  is  com 
patible  with  the  mother  and  yet  separable, 
and  the  most  absolute  monarch  is  sometimes 
led  by  his  servants  and  yet  without  subjection. 

3.  The  action  of  the  mind  on  the  body. 

1.  Physicians  have  ever  considered  "acciden- 

tia  animi,"  as  of  great  importance. 

2.  The  power  of  imagination  as  well  to  help 

as  to  hurt  is  a  subject  neglected,  but  de 
serving  inquiry. 

//  cannot  be  concluded  that  because  there  be 
pestilent  airs,  able  suddenly  to  kill  a  man  in 

1  See  note  (P)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LtAKNING. 


147 


health,  therefore  there  should  be  sovereign  airs, 
able  suddenly  to  cure  a  man  in  sickness. 
3.  There  should  be  an  inquiry  of  the  seats  and 
domiciles  which  the  several  faculties  of 
the  mind  occupy  in  the  body  and  the 
organs  thereof. 

The  divided  State  of  Man 202 

Division. 

1.  The  body. 

2.  The  mind. 


OF    THE    BODT. 


Division. 

1.  Health. 

2.  Beauty. 

3.  Strength. 

4.  Pleasure. 


Health. 


1.  Man's  body  is  of  all  things  most  susceptible  of  re 

medy,  but  this  remedy  most  susceptible  of  error. 

2.  No  body  is  so  variously  compounded  as  the  body 

of  man. 

1.  The  variety  in  the  composition  of  man's 

body  is  the  cause  of  its  being  frequently 

distempered. 

The  poets  did  well  to  conjoin  music  and 
medicine  in  Apollo :  because  the  office  of  me 
dicine  is  but  to  tune  this  curious  harp  of  man's 
body  and  to  reduce  it  to  harmony. 

2.  The  variety  in  the  composition  of  man's 

body  has   made   the   art  of    medicine 
more  conjectural;  and  so  given  scope 
to  error  and  imposture. 
The  lawyer  is  judged  by  the  virtue  of  his 
pleading,  and  not  by  the  issue  of  the  cause. 
The  master  of  the  ship  is  judged  by  the  di 
recting  his  course  aright,  and  not  by  the  for 
tune  of  the  voyage.     But  the  physician,  and 
perhaps  the  politician,  hath  no  particular  acts 
demonstrative  of  his  ability,  but  is  judged 
most  by  the  event. 

3.  The  quack  is  often  prized  before  the  regular  physi 

cian. 

4.  Physicians  often  prefer  other  pursuits  to  their  own 

professions. 

You  shall  have  of  them  antiquities,  poets, 
humanists,  statesmen,  merchants,  divines,  and 
in  every  of  these  better  seen  than  in  their  pro 
fession  ;  and  no  doubt  upon  this  ground,  that 
they  find  that  mediocrity  and  excellency  in 
their  art  maketh  no  difference  in  profit  or  re 
putation  towards  their  fortune ;  for  the  weak 
ness  of  patients,  and  sweetness  of  life,  and 
nature  of  hope,  maketh  men  depend  upon 
physicians  with  all  their  defects. 

5.  Diseases  may  be  subdued. 

If  we  will  excite  and  awake  our  observa 
tion,  we  shall  sec  in  familiar  instances  what 
a  predominant  faculty  the  subtilty  of  spirit 
hath  over  the  variety  of  matter  or  form. 

J.  Medicine  has  been  more  laboured  than  advanced. 

7.  Deficiencies  of  medicine. 

1.  Want  of  medical  reports. 

2.  Defective  anatomies. 

3.  Hasty  conclusions  that  diseases  are  in 

curable. 

Sijlla  and  the  triitmvirs  never  proscribed 
so  many  men  to  die,  as  they  do  by  their  igno 
rant  edicts. 


4.  A  neglect  to  mitigate  the  pains  of  death. 

5.  A    neglect    of    acknowledged    medi 

cines  204 

6.  A  neglect  of  artificial  mineral  baths. 

7.  The  prescripts  in  use  are  too  compen 

dious  to  attain  their  end. 
It  were  a  strange  speech,  which,  spoken,  or 
spoken  oft,  should  reclaim  a  man  from  a  vice 
to  which  he  were  by  nature  subject:  it  is 
order,  pursuit,  sequence,  and  interchange  of 
application,  which  is  mighty  in  nature. 

Beauty 205 

1.  Cleanliness  was  ever  esteemed  to  proceed  from  a 

due  reverence  to  God.  to  society,  and  to  our 
selves. 

2.  Artificial  decoration  is  neither  fine  enough  to  de 

ceive,  nor  handsome  to  please,  nor  wholesome 
to  use.1 


Strength. 


205 

1.  It  means  any  ability  of  body  to  which  the  body  of 

man  may  be  brought. 

2.  Division. 

1.  Activity. 

1.  Strength. 

2.  Swiftness. 

2.  Patience. 

1.  Hardness  against  want. 

2.  Endurance  of  pain. 

1.  General  receptacle  for  acts  of  great  bodily  endu 

rance. 

2.  The  philosophy  of  athletics  is  not   much  investi 

gated. 

3.  The  mediocrity  of  athletics  is  for  use;  the  excess 

for  ostentation. 

Pleasure 205 

Their  chief  deficience  is  in  laws  to  repress  them. 

It  hath  been  well  observed,  that  the  arts 
which  fiourish  in  times  while  virtue  is  in 
growth,  are  military ,-  and  while  virtue  is  in 
state,  are  liberal ;  and  while  virtue  is  in  de 
clination,  are  voluptuary.2 

1  In  the  Treatise  De  Augmentis,  this  passage  is  thus  al 
tered  : 

Adulterate  decoration  by  painting  and  cerusse,  is 
well  worthy  of  the  imperfections  ichich  attend  it ;  being' 
neither  fine  enough  to  deceive,  nor  handsome  to  please, 
nor  wholesome  to  use. 

We  read  of  Jezabel  that  she  painted  her  face:  but 
there  is  no  such  report  of  Esther  or  Judith. 
*  In  Bacon's  Essay  on  Vicissitude  of  Things,  he  says, 

In  the  youth  of  a  state,  arms  do  fiourish ;  in  the 
middle  age  of  a  state,  learning  ;  and  then  both  of  them 
together  for  a  time:  in  the  declining  age  of  a,  state, 
mechanical  arts  and  merchandise. 

Lloyd,  in  his  life  of  Sir  Edward  Howard,  says,  almost  in  the 
same  words, 

In  the  youth  of  this  state,  as  of  all  others,  arms  did 
fiourish;  in  the  middle  state  of  it,  learning-;  and  in 
the  declining  (as  covetousness  and  theft  attend  old  age) 
mechanic  arts  and  merchandise. 
Q.  1.  Is  this  observation  founded  on  fact  ? 
Q.  2.  Supposing  it  to   be  founded  on  fact;  what  are  the 
causes'? — Does  commerce  lower  the  character  ?    Is  the  ser 
vice  of  mammon  at  variance  with  the  service  of  God? 

Q.  3.  Supposing  the  mechanical  arts  and  merchandise 
hitherto  to  have  accompanied  the  decline  of  states,  may  they 
not  both  be  traced  to  excess  of  civilization,  instead  of  being 
supposed  to  flow  from  each  other  ? 

Q.  4.  Supposing  the  opinion  to  be  founded  on  fact;  will 
not  the  evil  now  be  prevented  by  the  art  of  printing? 


148 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


A  sn  •  i 
1.  Artificial. 


The,  Mind. 

1.  Division:  1st.  As  to  the  origin  of  the  mind.     2d. 
As  to  its  faculties. 

The  Origin  of  the  Mind 205 

1.  To  this  appertains  the  consideration  of  the  origin 

of  the  soul  and  its  faculties. 

2.  This  subject  may  be  more  diligently  inquired  than 

it  hath  been  in  philosophy :  but  it  is  referable 
to  divinity. 

3.  Appendices  to  this  knowledge:    1.  Divination.    2. 

Fascination. 

Divination 206 

1.  Division. 

Rational. 
2.  Superstitious. 

,     C  1.  Native. 
2.  Natural.    ^2.  By  Influxion. 

Artificial  Divination. 

2.  Artificial  is  a  prediction  by  argument,  concluding 

upon  signs  and  tokens. 

3.  Division:    1st.  Rational.    2d.  Superstitious. 

4.  Rational  artificial  divination  is  when  the  argument 

is  coupled  with  a  derivation  of  causes. 

The  astronomer  hath  fiis  predictions,  as  of 
conjunctions,  aspects,  eclipses,  and  the  like. 
The  physician  hath  his  predictions  of  death, 
of  recovery,  of  the  accidents  and  issues  of  dis 
eases.  The  politician  hath  his  predictions,- 
"O  urbcm  venalem,  et  cito  perituram,  si 
emptorem  invenerit .'"  which  stayed  not  long 
to  be  performed,  in  Sylla  first,  and  after  in 
Caesar. 

5.  Superstitious  artificial  divination  is  when  there  is  a 

mere  casual  coincidence  of  the  event  and  pre 
diction. 

Such  as  were  the  heathen  observations  upon 
the  inspection  of  sacrifices,  the  flights  of  birds, 
the  swarming  of  bees  ,•  and  such  as  was  the 
Chaldean  astrology,  and  the  like. 

6.  Artificial  divination  is  not  proper  to  this  place,  but 

should  be  referred  to  the  sciences  to  which  it 
appertains. 

Natural  Divinations. 

1.  It  is  a  prediction  from  the  internal  nature  of  the 

soul. 

2.  Division:    1st.  Native.     2d.  By  influxion. 

3.  Native  divination  is  grounded  on  the  suppositioii 

that  the  mind,  when  withdrawn  and  collected 
into  itself,  and  not  diffused  into  the  organs  of 
the  body,  hath,  from  the  natural  power  of  its 
own  essence,  some  prenotion  of  future  things : 
as  in  sleep,  ecstacies,  propinquity  of  death, 
&c ' 206 

4.  It  is  furthered  :  by  abstinence. 

5.  Divination  by  influxion  is  grounded  upon  the  sup 

position  that  the  mind,  as  a  mirror,  takes  illu 
mination  from  the  foreknowledge  of  God  and 
spirits. 

6.  Divination  of  influxion1  is  furthered  by  abstinence. 

7.  Native  divination  is  accompanied  by  repose  and 

quiet :  divination  by  influxion  is  fervent  and 
impatient. 

Fascination 206 

1.  It  is  the  power  of  imagination  upon  other  bodies 
than  the  body  of  the  imaginant. 

1  Query,  Whether  divination  by  influxion  is  not  descrip 
tive  of  the  feeling  which  influences  the  benevolent  and  or 
derly  class  of  society  called  Quakers? 


2.  Of  the  erroneous  opinions  upon  fascination. 

3.  Inquiry  how  to  fortify  the  imagination. 

4.  The  only  defect  in  this  subject  is  as  to  not  distin 

guishing  its  extent.2 

THE  USE  AISTD  OBJECT  OF  THE  FACULTIES  OF  MAK  206 

1.  Division  of  this  knowledge:    1st.  Relating  to  the 

understanding.    2d.  Relating  to  the  will. 

2.  The  understanding  produces  decrees  ,•  the  will  ac 

tions. 

This  Janus  of  imagination  hath  differing 
faces  ,•  for  the  face  towards  reason  hath  the 
print  of  truth,  but  the  face  towards  action 
hath  the  print  of  good,-  which  nevertheless 
are  faces, 

"QwaZes  decet  esse  sororum." 
It  was  well  said  by  Aristotle,  "That  the 
mind  hath  over  the  body  that  commandment 
which  the  lord  hath  over  a  bondman,-  but  that 
reason  hath  over  the  imagination  that  com 
mandment  which  a  magistrate  hath  over  a 
free  citizen ,-"  who  may  come  also  to  rule  in 
his  turn. 

3.  Observations  upon  the  imagination. 

Poesy  is  rather  a  pleasure  or  play  of  im 
agination,  than  a  work  or  duty  thereof. 

Of  the  Understanding. 

1.  Knowledge  respecting  the  understanding  is  to  most 

wits  the  least  delightful ;  and  seems  but  a  net 
of  subtlety  and  spinosity  ;  but  it  is  the  key  of 
all  other  arts. 

As  knowledge  is  "pabulum  animi  ,•"  so  in 
the  nature  of  men's  appetite  to  this  food, 
most  men  are  of  the  taste  and  stomach  of  the 
Israelites  in  the.  desert,  that  would  fain  have 
returned  "  ad  ollas  carnium." 

2.  Division 207 

1.  Invention. 

2.  Judgment. 

3.  Memory. 

4.  Tradition. 


Invention. 


207 


1.  Division. 

1.  Of  arts  and  sciences. 

2.  Of  arguments. 

2.  The  art  of  inventing  arts  and  sciences  is  deficient. 

This  is  such  a  deficience  as  if,  in  the  mak 
ing  of  an  inventory  touching  the  state  of  a 
defunct,  it  should  be  set  down,  that  there  is  no 
ready  money.  For  as  money  will  fetch  all 
other  commodities,  so  this  knowledge  is  that 
which  should  purchase  all  the  rest.  And  like 
as  the  West  Indies  had  never  been  discovered, 
if  the  use  of  the  mariner's  needle  had  not 
been  first  discovered,  though  the  one  be  vast 
regions,  and  the  other  a  small  motion ,-  so  it 
cannot  be  found  strange  if  sciences  be  no 
further  discovered,  if  the  art  itself  of  inven 
tion  and  discovery  hath  been  passed  over. 

3.  Proofs  that  the  art  of  inventing  arts  and  sciences  is 

deficient. 

1.  Their  logic  does  not  pretend  to  invent  sci 
ences  or  axioms 207 

Men  are  rather  beholden  to  a  wild  goat  for 
surgery,  or  to  a  nightingale  for  music,  or  to 
the  ibis  for  some  part  of  physic,  or  to  the  pot 

a  Here,  in  the  Treatise  De  Augmentis,  is  an  extensive  ad 
dition  upon  Voluntary  Motion — Sense  and  Sensibility — Per 
ception  and  Sense — The  Fcurui  of  Light. 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


149 


lid  that  flew  open  for  artillery,  or  generally 
to  chance,  or  any  thing  else,  than  to  logic,  for 
the  invention  of  arts  and  sciences. 

It  was  no  marvel,  the  manner  of  antiquity 
being  to  consecrate  inventors,  that  the  Egyp 
tians  had  so  few  human  idols  in  their  temples, 
but  almost  all  brute. 

Who  taught  the  raven  in  a  drought  to  throw 
pebbles  into  a  hollow  tree,  where  she  espied 
water,  that  the  water  might  rise  so  as  she 
might  come  to  it  ?  Who  taught  the  bee  to  sail 
through  such  a  vast  sea  of  air,  and  to  find  the 
way  from  a  field  in  flower,  a  great  way  off, 
to  her  hive  ?  Who  taught  the  ant  to  bite  every 
grain  of  corn  that  she  burieth  in  her  hill,  lest 
it  should  take  root  and  grow  ? 

2.  The  forms  of  induction  which  logic  pro 

pounds  is  defective 208 

To  conclude  upon  an  enumeration  of  par 
ticulars,  without  instance  contradictory,  is  no 
conclusion,  but  a  conjecture ;  for  who  can  as 
sure,  in  many  subjects  upon  those  particulars 
which  appear  of  a  side,  that  there  are  not 
other  on  the  contrary  side  which  appear  not  ? 
As  if  Samuel  should  have  rested  upon  those 
sons  of  Jesse  which  were  brought  before  him, 
and  failed  of  David,  who  was  absent  in  the 
field. 

3.  Allowing  some  axioms  to  be  rightly  in 

duced,  middle  propositions  cannot  be 
inferred  from  them  in  subject  of  nature 
by  syllogism. 

Here  was  their  chief  error  ,•  they  charged 
the  deceit  upon  the  senses,-  which  in  my 
judgment,  notwithstanding  all  their  cavilla- 
tions,  are  very  sufficient  to  certify  and  report 
truth,  though  not  always  immediately,  yet  by 
comparison,  by  help  of  instrument,  and  by 
producing  and  urging  such  things  as  are  too 
subtile  for  the  sense,  to  some  effect  comprehen 
sible  by.  the  sense,  and  other  like  assistance. 
But  they  ought  to  have  charged  the  deceit  upon 
the  weakness  of  the  intellectual  powers,  and 
upon  the  manner  of  collecting  and  concluding 
upon  the  reports  of  the  senses. 

4.  Bacon's  intention  to  propound  the  art  of  inventing 
arts  and  sciences  by  two  modes:  1st.  Experi- 
entia  literata.  2d.  Interpretatio  naturae.1 

IJfVEXTIOX  OF    SPEECH    OR  ARGUMENT  .  .     209 

1.  It  is  more  properly  memory  with  application  than 

invention. 

We  do  account  it  a  chase,  as  well  of  deer  in 
an  enclosed  park  as  in  a  forest  at  large. 

2.  Modes  of  producing  this  recollection :    1st.  Prepa 

ration.     2d.  Suggestion. 

Preparation. 

1.  It  is  the  storing  arguments  on  such  things  as  are 

frequently  discussed. 

2.  It  consists  chiefly  of  diligence. 

Aristotle,  said  the  sophists,  "  did  as  if  one 
that  professed  the  art  of  shoemaking  should 
not  teach  how  to  make  a  shoe,  but  only  exhibit, 
in  a  readiness,  a  number  of  shoes  of  all  fash 
ions  and  sizes."  But  yet  a  man  might  reply, 
that  if  a  shoemaker  should  have  no  shoes  in 

iThe  Experientia  Literata  is  contained  in  the  Treatise  De 
Augrmentfs;  and  his  Interpretatio  Naturae  constitutes  his 
Novum  Organum. 


his  shop,  but  only  work  as  he  is  bespoken,  he. 
should  be  weakly  customed. 

Our  Saviour,  speaking  of  divine  knowledge, 
saith,  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  a 
good  householder,  that  bringeth  forth  both 
new  and  old  store. 

3.  This  subject  is  more  fully  investigated  under  the 
head  of  rhetoric. 

Suggestion 209 

1.  It  directs  the  mind  to  certain  marks,  as  a  mode  of 

exciting  it  to  the  production  of  acquired  know 
ledge. 

2.  Different  sorts  of  topics  :   1.  General.   2.  Particular. 

General  Suggestion. 

1.  Its  uses  are  to  furnish  arguments  to  dispute  proba 

bly  :  to  minister  to  our  judgments:  to  conclude 
right,  and  to  direct  our  inquiries. 

A  faculty  of  wise  interrogating  is  half  a 
knowledge.  For  as  Plato  saith,  "Whosoever 
seeketh,  knoweth  that  which  he  seeketh  for  in 
a  general  notion  ,•  else  how  shall  he  know  it 
when  he  hath  found  it .?" 

Particular  Suggest/on. 

L.  It  is  a  direction  of  invention  in  every  particular 
knowledge. 

2.  Ars  inveniendi  adolescit  cum  inventis. 

In  going  of  a  way,  we  do  not  only  gain 
that  part  of  the  way  'which  is  passed,  but  we. 
gain  the  better  sight  of  that  part  of  the  way 
which  remaineth. 

Judgment 210 

1.  It  relates  to  the  nature  of  proofs  and  demonstrations. 

2.  Different   modes   of   judging:      1.   By   induction, 

which  is  referred  to  the  Novum  Organum.     2. 
By  syllogism. 

Of  Syllogism. 

1.  Syllogisms  are  agreeable  to  the  mind,  and  have 

been  much  laboured. 

The  nature  of  man  doth  extremely  covet  to 
have  somewhat  in  his  understanding  fixed 
and  immovcable,  and  as  a  rest,  and  support  of 
the  mind.  And  therefore  as  Aristotle  endea- 
vourcth  to  prove,  that  in  all  motion  there  is 
some  point  quiescent  ,•  and  as  he  elegantly  ex- 
poundeth  the  ancient  fable  of  Atlas,  that 
stood  fixed,  and  bare  up  the  heaven  from  Jail 
ing,  to  be  meant  of  the  poles  or  axle-tree  of 
heaven,  whereupon  the  conversion  is  accom 
plished  ;  so  assuredly  men  have  a  desire  to 
have  an  Atlas  or  axle-tree  within,  to  keep  them 
from  fluctuation. 

2.  The  art  of  judging  by  syllogism  is  the  reduction  of 

propositions  to  principles  by  an  agreed  middle 
term. 

3.  Syllogisms  are  direct,  or  ex  absurdo. 

4.  Division  of  the  art  of  judgment :   1st.  The  analytic, 

art.  2.  The  doctrine  of  clenches. 

The  Analytic  Art. 

5.  It  is  for  direction. 

6.  It  sets  down  the  true  form  of  arguments,  from  which 

any  deviation  leads  to  error. 

The  Doctrine  of  Elenches 210 

7.  It  is  for  caution  to  detect  fallacies. 

In  the  more  gross  sorts  of  fallacies  it  hap- 
peneth,  as  Seneca,  maketh  the  comparison  well, 
as  in  juggling  feats,  which  though  we  know 
N  2 


150 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING, 


not  how  they  are  done,  yet  we  know  well  it  is 
not  a$  it  seemeth  to  be. 

8.  Elenches  are  well  laboured  by  Plato  and  Aristotle. 

9.  The  virtuous  use  of  this  knowledge  is  to  redargue 

sophisms  :  the  corrupt  use  for  caption  and  con 
tradiction. 

The  difference  is  good  which  was  made  be 
tween  orators  and  sophisters  that  the  one  is  as 
the  greyhound,  which  hath  his  advantage  in 
the  race,  and  the  other  as  the  hare,  which  hath 
her  advantage  in  the  turn. 

1 0.  Elenches  extend  to  divers  parts  of  knowledge. 

11.  The  references  touching  the  common  adjuncts  of 

essences  is  an  elench. 

12.  Seducements  that  work  by  the   strength  of  im 

pression  are  elenches 211 

13.  Elenches  of  idols. 

The  mind  of  man,  which  I  find  not  ob 
served  or  inquired  at  all,  and  think  good  to 
place  here,  as  that  which  of  all  others  apper- 
tainetk  most  to  rectify  judgment :  the  force 
whereof  is  such,  as  it  doth  not  dazzle  or  snare 
the  understanding  in  some  particulars,  but 
doth  more,  generally  and  inwardly  infect  and 
corrupt  the  state  thereof.  For  the  mind  of 
•man  is  far  from  the  nature  of  a  clear  and 
equal  glass,  wherein  the  beams  of  things 
should rejlect  according  to  their  true  incidence,- 
.  nay,  it  is  rather  like  an  enchanted  glass,  full 
of  superstition  and  imposture,  if  it  be  not  de 
livered  and  reduced. 

14.  The  mind  is  more  affected  by  affirmatives  than 

negatives. ' 

As  was  well  answered  by  Diagoras  to  him 
that  showed  him  in  Neptune's  temple  the 
greater  number  of  pictures  of  such  as  had  es 
caped  shipwreck  and  had  paid  their  vows  to 
Neptune,  saying,  "  Advise  now,  you  that  think 
it  folly  to  invocate  Neptune  in  tempest .-" 
" Yea,  but"  said  Diagoras,  " where  are  they 
painted  that  are  drowned?" 

15.  The  mind  supposes  a  greater  equality  then  exists.2 

The  mathematicians  cannot  satisfy  them 
selves,  except  they  reduce  the  motions  of  the 
celestial  bodies  to  perfect  circles,  rejecting 
spiral  lines,  and  labouring  to  be  discharged 
of  eccentrics. 

J6    The  mind  is  prejudiced  by  the  false  appearances 
imposed  by  every  man's  own  individual  nature 

and  custom3 211 

If  a  child,  lucre  continued  in  a  grot  or  cave 
under  the  earth  until  maturity  of  age,  and 
came  suddenly  abroad,  he  would  have  strange 
and  absurd  imaginations.  So  in  like  manner, 
although  our  persons  live  in  the  view  of  hea 
ven,  yet  our  spirits  are  included  in  the  caves 
of  our  own  complexions  and,  customs,  which 
minister  unto  us  infinite  errorr,  and  vain 
opinions,  if  they  be  not  recalled  to  examina 
tion. 

17.  The  mind  is  misled  by  words.4 

18.  The  cautions  against  these  idols  are  defective.   211 

19.  The  application  of  the  different  kinds  of  proofs  to 

different  subjects. 

20.  Different  kinds  of  demonstrations. 

1.  Immediate  consent. 

2.  Induction. 

1  See  note  (Q)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 

*  See  note  (R)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 

*  See  note  (S)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 
See  note  (T)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 


3.  Sophism. 

4.  Congruity 

The  rigour  and  curiosity  in  requiring  the 
more  severe  proofs  in  some  things,  and  chiefly 
the,  facility  in  contenting  ourselves  with  the 
more  remiss  proofs  in  others,  hath  been 
amongst  the  greatest  causes  of  detriment  and 
hinderance  to  knowledge. 
21.  This  is  deficient. 

MEMORY5/.  .............    212 

Retaining  knowledge  is  by  writing  or  memory. 
Writing, 

The  nature  of  the  character  is  referred  to  grammar. 

The  disposition  of  our  knowledge  depends  upon  com 
mon-places. 

Of  common-places  injuring  the  memory. 

Because  it  is  but  a  counterfeit  thing  in 
knowledges  to  be  forward  and  pregnant,  ex 
cept  a  man  be  deep  and  full,  I  hold  the  entry 
of  common-places,  to  be  a  matter  of  great  use 
and  essence  in  studying,  as  that  which  as- 
sureth  "  copia"  of  invention,  and  contracteth 
judgment  to  a  strength. 

The  mode  of  common-placing  is  defective. 

Memory  ................  212 

It  is  weakly  inquired. 

Precepts  for  memory  have  been  exalted  for  ostentation, 
not  for  use. 

/  make  no  more  estimate  of  repeating  a 
great  number  of  names  or  words  upon  once 
hearing,  or  the  pouring  forth  of  a  number  of 
verses  or  rhymes  ex  tempore,  or  the  making  of 
a  satirical  simile  of  every  tiling,  or  the  turn 
ing  of  every  thing  to  a  jest,  or  the  falsifying 
or  contradicting  of  every  thing  by  cavil,  or  the 
like,  (whereof  in  the  faculties  of  the  mind 
there  is  great  "  copia,"  and  such  as  by  device 
and  practice  may  be  exalted  to  an  extreme  de 
gree  of  wonder,}  than  I  do  of  the  tricks  of 
tumblers,  funambuloes,  baladincs  ;  the  one 
being  the  same  in  the  mind  that  the  other  is  in 
the  body,  matters  of  strangeness  without 
worthiness. 

Art  of  memory  is  built  upon  prenotion  and  emblem. 

Prenotion  is  a  limitation  of  an  indefinite  seeking  by 
directing  us  to  seek  in  a  narrow  compass. 

Emblem  reduces  conceits  intellectual  to  images  sen 
sible.   (+t**4>rtj  f^^^j 

TRADITION'  ..............     212 


It  is  the  transferring  our  knowledge  to  others. 
Division  of  the  subject. 

1.  The  organ  of  speech. 

2.  The  method  of  speech. 

3.  The  ornament  of  speech 

THE    ORGAK    OF    SPEECH. 

Whatever  is  capable  of  sufficient  differences  and  per 
ception  by  the  sense  is  competent  to  express 
thought. 

Different  Signs  of  Thought. 

1.  Having  similitude  with  the  notion. 

1.  Hieroglyphics. 

2.  Gestures. 

2.  Not  having  similitude  or  words. 
The  antiquity  of  hieroglyphics. 
Gestures  are  as  transitory  hieroglyphics. 

See  note  (U)  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


151 


Periander,  being  consulted  with  how  to 
preserve  a  tyranny  newly  usurped,  bid  the 
messenger  attend  and  report  what  he  saw  him 
do  ;  and  went  into  his  garden  and  topped  all 
the  highest  flowers. 
Hypotheses  respecting  the  origin  of  words 213 

Of  Grammar. 

Man  still  striveth  to  reintegrate  himself  in 
those  benedictions,  from  which  by  his  fault  he 
hath  been  deprived,-  and  as  he  hath  striven 
against  the  first  general  curse  by  the  invention 
of  all  other  arts,  so  hath  he  sought  to  come 
forth  of  the  second  general  curse,  which  was 
the  confusion  of  tongues,  by  the  art.  of  gram 
mar  :  whereof  the  use  in  a  mother  tongue  is 
small,  in  a  foreign  tongue  more,'  but  most  in 
such  foreign  tongues  as  have  ceased  to  be  vul 
gar  tongues,  and  are  turned  only  to  learned 
tongues. 

The  accidents  of  words,  as  measure,  sound,  &c.  is  an 
appendix  to  grammar. 

There  are  various  sorts  of  ciphers. 

As  there  be  many  of  great  account  in  their 
countries  and  provinces,  which,  when  they 
come  up  to  the  seat  of  the  estate,  are  but  of 
mean  rank  and  scarcely  regarded ;  so  these 
arts,  being  here  placed  with  the  principal  and 
supreme  sciences,  seem  petty  things,-  yet  to 
such  as  have  chosen  them  to  spend  their  la 
bours  and  studies  in  them,  they  seem  great 
matters. 

THE  METHOD  OF  SPEECH. 

It  is  deficient. 

Impatience  of  method. 

Different  sorts  of  methods. 

The  use  of  grammar  is  small  in  mother  tongues — is 
greater  in  foreign  living  tongues ;  but  greatest 
in  dead  languages 213 

Duties  of  grammar  are  two. 

1.  Popular. 

2.  Philosophical. 

Popular  grammar  is  for  the  learning  and  speaking  lan 
guages. 

Philosophical  grammar  examines  the  power  of  words 
as  they  are  the  footsteps  of  reason 213 

First  Method.     Magistral  which  teaches,  or  initiative 

which  insinuates 214 

He  that  delivereth  knowledge,  desireth  to  de 
liver  it  in  such  form  as  may  be  best  believed, 
and  not  as  may  be  best  examined;  and  he 
that  receiveth  knowledge,  desireth  rather  pre 
sent  satisfaction,  than  expectant  inquiry ; 
and  so  rather  not  to  doubt,  than  not  to  err. 

Knowledge  that  is  delivered  as  a  thread  to 
be  spun  on,  ought  to  be  delivered  and  inti 
mated,  if  it  were  possible,  in  the  same  method 
wherein  it  was  invented  ;  and  so  is  it  possible 
of  knowledge  induced. 

It  is  in  knowledge  as  it  is  in  plants ;  if  you 
mean  to  use  the  plant,  it  is  no  matter  for  the 
roots  ,•  but  if  you  mean  to  remove  it  to  grow, 
then  it  is  more  assured  to  rest  upon  roots  than 
slips :  so  the  delivery  of  knowledges,  as  it  is 
now  used,  is  as  of  fair  bodies  of  trees  without 
the  roots ,-  good  for  the  carpenter,  but  not  for 
the  planter.  But  if  you  will  have  sciences 
grow,  it  is  less  matter  for  the  shaft  or  body  of 
the  tree,  so  you  look  well  to  the  taking  up  of 
the  roots. 


Second  Method.     A  concealed  or  revealed  style .   214 
Third  Method.     Method  or  aphorisms. 

1.  Delivery   by   aphorisms    is   a   test  of    the 

knowledge  of  the  writer. 

2.  Methodical  delivery  is  better  to  procure  con 

sent  than  to  generate  action. 

3.  Aphorisms  invite  to  augment  knowledge. 
Fourth  Method.     Delivery  by  assertions  with  their 

vroofs  or  interrogates. 

4.  Delivery  by  interrogations  should  be  used 

only  to  remove  stray  prejudices. 
If  it  be  immoderately  followed,  is  as  pre 
judicial  to  the  proceeding  of  learning,  as  it 
is  to  the  proceeding  of  an  army  to  go  about 
to  besiege  every  little  fort  or  hold.  For  if  the 
field  be  kept,  and  the  sum  of  the  enterprise 
pursued,  those  smaller  things  will  come  in  of 
themselves. 

Fifth  Method.    Accommodation  of  delivery  according 
to  the  matter  which  is  to  be  treated. 

Sixth  Method.     Delivery  according  to  the  anticipation 
in  the  minds  of  the  hearers. 

1.  Those  whose  conceits  are  seated  in  po 

pular  opinions  need  only  to  dispute 
or  to  prove. 

2.  Those  whose  conceits  are  beyond  po 

pular  opinions  have  a  double  labour. 
1st.  That  they  may  be  conceited. 
2d.  That  they  may  prove. 

3.  Science  not  consonant  to  presupposi 

tions  must  bring  in  aid  similitudes. 
Method  considers  the  disposition  of  the  work,  and  the 

limitation  of  propositions 215 

It  belongeth  to  architecture  to  consider  not 
only  the  whole  frame  of  a  work,  but  the  seve 
ral  beams  and  columns. 
Observations  upon  the  limits  of  propositions. 
Of  the  method  of  imposture. 

A  mass  of  words  of  all  arts,  to  give  men 
countenance,  that  those  which  use  the  terms 
might  be  thought  to  understand  the  art,- 
which  collections  are  much  like  a  f ripper's  or 
broker's  shop,  that  hath  ends  of  every  thing 
but  nothing  of  worth. 

ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  SPEECH 215 

1 .  Eloquence  is  in  reality  inferior  to  wisdom ;  but  in 

popular  opinions  superior  to  it. 

It  is  said  by  God  to  Moses,  when  he  disabled 
himself  for  want  of  this  faculty,  Aaron  shall 
be  thy  speaker,  and  thou  shall  be  to  him  as 
God.' 

2.  The  deficiences  in  eloquence  are  rather  in   some 

collections  than  in  the  art  itself. 

3.  The  office  of  rhetoric  is  to  apply  reason  to  imagina 

tion  for  the  better  moving  of  the  will. 

4.  The  disturbers  of  reason  are  fallacies  of  arguments: 

assiduity  of  impression,  and  violence  of  pas 
sion. 

5.  The  counteractors  of  these  disturbers  are  logic,  mo 

rality  and  rhetoric. 

6.  Speech  is  more  conversant   in  adorning  what  is 

good  than  in  colouring  evil. 

"Virtue,  if  she  could  be  seen,  luould  move 
great  love  and  affection  ,•"  so  seeing  that  she 
cannot  be  showed  to  the  sense  by  corporal  shape, 
the  next  degree  is  to  show  her  to  the  imagina 
tion  in  lively  representation. 

7.  The  affections  not  being  pliant  to  reason,  rhetoric 

is  necessary. 

8.  Difference  between  logic  and  rhetoric. 


152 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


9.  Deficiences  of  rhetoric 216 

1.  Want  of  a  collection  of  the  popular  signs 

of   good  and  evil;    of   the  defects  of 
Aristotle's  collection. 

2.  Want  of  a  collection  of  commonplaces .   217 

10.  Appendices  to  the  art  of  delivery. 

1.  The  art  critical. 

2.  The  art  of  instruction. 

The  Art  Critical 217 

Rules  of  criticism. 

The  Art  of  Instruction 217 

1.  It  contains  that  difference  of  tradition  which  is 

proper  for  youth. 

2.  Different  considerations. 

1.  The  timing  and  seasoning  of  knowledges. 

2.  The  judicious  selection  of  difficulties  and 

of  easy  studies. 

It  is  one  method  to  practise  swimming  with 
bladders,  and  another  to  practise  dancing  with 
heavy  shoes. 

3.  The  application  of  learning  according  to 

the  mind  to  be  instructed. 
There  is  no  defect  in  the  faculties  intellec 
tual,  but  seemeth  to  have  a  proper  cure  con 
tained  in  some  studies :  as,  for  example,  if  a 
child  be  bird-witted,  that  is,  hath  not  the  fa 
culty  of  attention,  the  mathematics  giveth  a 
remedy  thereunto ,-  for  in  them,  if  the  wit  be 
caught  away  but  a  moment,  one  is  to  begin 
anew. 

4.  The  continuance  and  intermission  of  ex 

ercises  218 

As  the  wronging  or  cherishing  of  seeds  or 
young  plants  is  that  that  is  most  important 
to  their  thriving :  so  the  culture  and  manu- 
rance  of  minds  in  youth  hath  such  a  forcible, 
though  unseen,  operation,  as  hardly  any 
length  of  time  or  contention  of  labour  can 
countervail  it  afterwards. 

OF  THE  witt 218 

1.  Writers  on  this  subject  have  described  virtues  with 

out  pointing  out  the  mode  of  attaining  them. 

Those  which  have  written  seem  to  me  to  have 
done  as  if  a  man,  that  professeth  to  teach  to 
write,  did  only  exhibit  fair  copies  of  alpha 
bets  and  letters  joined,  without  giving  any 
precepts  or  directions  for  the  carriage  of  the 
hand  and  framing  of  the  letters. 

These  Georgics  of  the  mind,  concerning  the 
husbandry  and  tillage  thereof,  are  no  less 
worthy  than  the  heroical  descriptions  of  vir 
tue,  duly,  and  felicity. 

2.  Division  of  moral  philosophy 219 

1.  The  image  of  good. 

2.  The  culture  of  the  mind. 

THE  IMAGE  OF  GOOD. 

1.  Describes  the  nature  of  good. 

2.  Division. 

1.  The  kinds  of  good. 

2.  The  degrees  of  good. 

3   The  ancients  were  defective  in  not  examining  the 
springs  of  good  and  evil. 

4.  Good  is:   1.  Private.  2.  Public. 

There  is  formed  in  every  thing  a  double  na 
ture  of  good:  the  one,  as  every  thing  is  a  tota 
or  substantive  in  itself,-  the  other,  as  it  is  a 


part  or  member  of  a  greater  body  ;  whereof 
the  latter  is  in  degree  the  greater  and  the  wor^ 
thier,  because  it  tendeth  to  the  conservation  of 
a  more  general  form.  Therefore  we  see  the 
iron  in  particular  sympathy  moveth  to  the 
loadstone;  but  yet  if  it  exceed  a  certain  quan 
tity,  it  forsaketh  the  affection  to  the  loadstone, 
and  like  a  good  patriot  moveth  to  the  earth, 
which  is  the  region  and  country  of  massy 
bodies. 

5.  Public  is  more  worthy  than  private  good. 

Pompeius  Magnus,  when  being  in  commis 
sion  of  purveyance  for  a  famine  at  Rome, 
and  being  dissuaded  with  great  vehemency 
and  instance  by  his  friends  about  him,  that 
he  should  not  hazard  himself  to  sea  in  an  ex 
tremity  of  weather,  he  said  only  to  them, 
"  Necesse  est  ut  earn,  non  ut  vivam." 

The  Degrees  of  Good. 
The   questions  respecting  the  supreme  good  are  by 
Christianity  disclosed. 

6.  An  active  is  to  be  preferred  to  contemplative  life. 

Pythagoras  being  asked  what  he  was,  an 
swered,  "That  if  Hiero  were  ever  at  the  Olym 
pian  games,  he  knew  the  manner,  that  some 
came  to  try  their  fortune  for  the  prizes,  and 
some  came  as  merchants  to  utter  their  commo 
dities,  and  some  came  to  make  good  cheer  and 
meet  their  friends,  and  some  came  to  look  on  ; 
and  that  he  was  one  of  them  that  came  to  look 
on."  Rut  men  must  know,  that  in  this  thea 
tre  of  man's  life  it  is  reserved  only  for  God 
and  angels  to  be  lookers  on. 

For  contemplation  which  should  be  finished 
in  itself,  without  casting  beams  upon  society, 
assuredly  divinity  knovjeth  it  no\. 

7.  The  ascendency  of  public  good  terminates  many 

disputes  of  the  ancient  philosophers 220 

1.  It  decides  the  controversies  between  Zeno 

and  Socrates,  and  the  Cyrenaics  and 
Epicureans,  whether  felicity  consisted 
in  virtue  or  pleasure,  or  serenity  of 
mind 220 

2.  It  censures  the  philosophy  of  Epictetus, 

which  plated  felicity  in  things  within 
our  power. 

Gonsalvo  said  to  his  soldiers,  showing  them 
Naples,  and  protesting,  "He  had  rather  die 
one  foot  forwards,  than  to  have  his  life  se 
cured  for  long  by  one  foot  of  retreat." 

The  conscience  of  good  intentions,  howso 
ever  succeeding,  is  a  more  continual  joy  to  na 
ture,  than  all  the  provision  which  can  be  made 
for  security  and  repose. 

3.  It  censures   the  abuse  of  philosophy  in 

Epictetus's  time,  in  converting  it  into 

an  occupation  or  profession 220 

This  philosophy  introduces  such  a  health 
of  mind,  as  was  that  of  Herodicus  in  body, 
who  did  nothing  all  his  life,  but  intend  his 
health. 

'  Sustine,'  and  not  '  Abstine,'  was  the  com 
mendation  of  Diogenes. 

4.  It  censures  the  hasty  retiring  from  busi 

ness. 

The  resolution  of  men  truly  moral  ought  to 
be  such  as  the  same  Gonsalvo  said  the  honour 
of  a  soldier  should  be,  "  e  tela  crassiore,"  and 
not  so  fine  as  that  every  thing  should  catch  in 
it  and  endanger  it. 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


153 


PRIVATE  GOOD 221 

1.  It  is:  1st.  Active.  2d.  Passive. 

Active  Private  Good. 

2.  Active  is  preferable  to  passive  private  good. 

Vita  sine  proposito  languida  et  vaga  est. 

3.  Active  private  good  has  not  an  identity  with  the 

good  of  society 221 

Passive  Private  Good. 

4.  It  is:   1st.  Conversative.  2d.  Perfective. 

Good  Perfective 221 

5.  Good  perfective  is  of  a  higher  nature  than  good 

conversative. 

Man's  approach  or  assumption  to  divine  or 
angelical  nature  is  the  perfection  of  his  form. 

6.  The  imitation  of  perfection  is  the  tempest  of  life.1 

As  those  which  are  sick,  and  find  no  remedy, 
do  tumble  up  and  down  and  change  place,  as 
if  by  a  remove  local  they  could  obtain  a  remove 
internal,-  so  is  it  with  men  in  ambition,  when, 
failing  of  the  means  to  exalt  their  nature, 
they  are  in  a  perpetual  estuation  to  exalt  their 
place. 

Good  Conversative 221 

7.  It  consists  in  the  practice  of  that  which  is  agree 

able  to  our  nature. 

8.  It  is  the  most  simple,  but  lowest  good. 

9.  Good  Conversative  consists  in  the  steadiness  and  in 

tensity  of  the  enjoyment. 

10.  Doubts  whether   felicity  results  most  from   the 

steadiness  or  intensity. 

The  sophist  saying  that  Socrates's  felicity 
was  the  felicity  of  a  block  or  stone ;  and  So 
crates  saying  that  the  sophist's  felicity  was 
the  felicity  of  one  that  had  the  itch,  who  did 
nothing  but  itch  and  scratch. 

As  we  see,  upon  the  lute  or  like  instrument, 
a  ground,  though  it  be  sweet  and  have  show 
of  many  changes,  yet  breaketh  not  the  hand 
to  such  strange  and  hard  stops  and  passages, 
as  a  set  song  or  voluntary  ,•  much  after  the 
same  manner  was  the  diversity  between  a 
philosophical  and  a  civil  life.  And  therefore 
men  are  to  imitate  the  wisdom  of  jewellers  ; 
who,  if  there  be  a  grain,  or  a  cloud,  or  an  ice 
which  may  be  ground  forth  without  taking 
too  much  of  the  stone,  they  help  it ;  but  if  it 
should  lessen  and  abate  the  stone  too  much, 
they  will  not  meddle  with  it :  so  ought  men 
so  to  procure  serenity  as  they  destroy  not  mag 
nanimity. 

PUBLIC  GOOD 222 

1.  It  is  duty,  and  relates  to  a  mind  well  framed  towards 

others. 

2.  Error  in  confusing  this  science  with  politics. 

As  in  architecture  the  direction  of  framing 
the  posts,  beams,  and  other  parts  of  building, 
is  not  the  same  with  the  manner  of  joining 
them  and  erecting  the  building;  and  in  me 
chanical*,  the  direction  how  to  frame  an  in 
strument  or  engine  is  not  the  same  with  the 
manner  of  setting  it  on  work  and  employing 
it,  so  the  doctrine  of  conjugation  of  men  in 
society  differethfrom  that  of  their  conformity 
thereunto. 

1  Q.  Is  not  this  the  difference  between  the  love  of  excelling 
and  the  love  of  excellence? 

VOL.  I.— 20 


3.  Duties  are:  1st.  Common  to  all  men.   2d.  Peculiar 

to  professions  or  particular  pursuits 222 

4.  The  duties  common  to  all  men  has  been  excellently 

laboured. 

5.  The  duties  respecting  particular  professions  have,  of 

necessity,  been  investigated  diffusedly. 

6.  A  knowledge  of  the  impostures  of  professions  is 

incident  to  the  knowledge  of  professional  du 
ties,  and  is  deficient. 

As  the  fable  goeth  of  the  basilisk,  that  if  he 
see  you  first,  you  die  for  it  /  but  if  you  see, 
him  first,  he  dieth  :  so  is  it  with  deceits  and 
evil  arts  ,•  which,  if  they  be  first  espied,  they 
lose  their  life ;  but  if  they  prevent,  they  en 
danger. 

We  are  much  beholden  to  Machiavel  and. 
others,  that  write  what  men  do,  and  not  what 
they  ought  to  do.  For  it  is  not  possible  to 
join  serpentine  wisdom  with  the  columbine 
innocency,  except  men  know  exactly  all  the 
conditions  of  the  serpent ;  his  baseness  and 
going  upon  his  belly,  his  volubility  and  lubri 
city,  his  envy  and  sting,  and  the  rest ;  that  is, 
all  forms  and  natures  of  evil:  for  without 
this,  virtue  lieth  open  and  unfenced. 

7.  To  this  subject  appertains  the  duties  of  husband 

and  wife,  parent  and  child,  friendship,  grati 
tude,  &c. 

8.  This  knowledge  concerning  duties  considers  com 

parative  duties. 

We  see  in  the  proceeding  of  Lucius  Brutus 
against  his  own  sons,  which  was  so  much  ex 
tolled;  yet  what  was  said  ? 

"Infelix,  utcunque  fcrent  ea  fata  minorcs." 

Men  must  pursue  the  things  which  are  just 
in  present,  and  leave  the  future  to  the  Divine 
Providence. 

THE  CULTURE  OF  THE  MIXD 223 

1.  Inquiry  must  be  made  not  only  of  the  nature  of 

virtue,  but  how  it  may  be  attained. 

An  exhibition  of  the  nature  of  good  without 
considering  the  culture  of  the  mind,  seemeth 
to  be  no  ^better  than  a  fair  image,  or  statue, 
which  is  beautiful  to  contemplate,  but  is  with 
out  life  and  motion. 

2.  Morality  should  be  the  handmaid  of  divinity. 

3.  We  ought  to  cast  up  our  account,  what  is  in  our 

power  and  what  not 224 

The  husbandman  cannot  command,  neither 
the  nature  of  the  earth,  nor  the  seasons  of  the 
weather  ,•  no  more  can  the  physician  the  con 
stitution  of  the  patient,  nor  the  variety  of  acci 
dents:  so  in  the  culture  and  cure  of  the  mind 
of  man,  two  things  are  without  our  command; 
points  of  nature,  and  points  of  fortune;  for 
to  the  basis  of  the  one,  and  the  conditions  of 
the  other,  our  work  is  limited  and  tied. 

Of  Men's  Natures,  or  Inherent  Dispositions. 

4.  The  foundation  of  the  culture  of  the  mind  is  the 

knowledge  of  its  nature. 

There  are  minds  which  are  proportioned  to 
great  matters,  and  others  to  small. 

There  are  minds  proportioned  to  intend 
many  matters,  and  others  to  few. 

Some  minds  are  proportioned  to  that  which 
may  be  despatched  at  once,  or  within  a  short 
return  of  time ;  others  to  that  which  begins 
afar  off,  and  is  to  be  won  with  length  of  pur 
suit. 


154 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


There,  is  a  disposition  in  conversation  to 
soothe  and  please  ;  and  a  disposition  contrary 
to  contradict  and  cross. 

There  is  a  disposition  to  take  pleasure  in 
the  good  of  another. 

5.  This  subject  has  been  negligently  inquired  by  mo 

ralists,  with  some  beauty  by  astrologers,  and  by 
words  in  relations. 

History,  poesy,  and  daily  experience  are  as 
goodly  fields  where  these  observations  grow  ; 
whereof  we  make  a  few  posies  to  hold  in  our 
hands,  but  no  man  bringeth  them  to  the  con 
fectionary,  that  receipts  might  be  made  of 
them  for  the  use  o/  life. 

6.  Natural  and  accidental  impressions  should  be  noted. 

The  Affections 225 

7.  Inquiry  should  be  made  of  the  affections. 

As  the  ancient  politicians  in  popular  states 
were  wont  to  compare  the  people  to  the  sea, 
and  the  orators  to  the  winds ,-  because,  as  the 
sea  would  of  itself  be  calm  and  quiet,  if  the 
vjinds  did  not  move  and  trouble  it;  so  the 
people  would  be  peaceable  and  tractable,  if 
the  seditious  orators  did  not  set  them  in  work 
ing  and  agitation :  so  it  may  be  fitly  said, 
that  the  mind  in  the  nature  thereof  would  be 
temperate  and  stayed,  if  the  affections,  as 
winds,  did  not  put  it  into  tumult  and  pertur 
bation. 

8.  This  subject  has  been  investigated  by  Aristotle,  and 

by  the  Stoics,  and  in  different  scattered  works ; 
but  the  poets  and  historians  are  the  masters  of 
the  passions 225 

9.  Of  the  opposition  of  passions  to  each  other. 

Tlie  Origin  of  the  Mind 226 

10.  Inquiries   should  be  made   of  custom,   exercise, 

habit,  education,  friendship,  &c. 

Of  Custom  and  Habit. 

11.  Aristotle's  error  in  stating  too  generally  that  those 

things  which  are  natural  cannot  be  changed. 

12.  Virtues  and  vices  consist  in  habits. 

13.  Precepts  for  the  formation  of  habits.1 

1.  Beware  that  at  the  first  a  task  be  taken 

neither  too  high  nor  too  weak.2 

2.  Practise  all  things  at  two  seasons ;  when 

the  mind  is  best  disposed  and  when  it  is 

worst  disposed. 

By  the  one  you  may  gain  a  great  step  ,•  by 

the  other  you  may  work  out  the  knots  and 

stonds  of  the  mind,  and  make  the  middle  times 

the  more  easy  and  pleasant. 

3.  Ever  bear  toward  the  contrary  extreme  of 

that  to  which  you  are  inclined. 
Like  unto  the  rowing  against  the  stream, 
or  making  a  wand  straight  by  bending  him 
contrary  to  his  natural  crookedness. 

4.  The  mind  is  brought  to  anything  with 
more  sweetness ;  if  that  whereunto  we  pretend 
be  not  first  in  the  intention,  but  tanquam  aliud 
agendo. 

1  See  Bacon's  Essay  "Of  Nature  in  Man,"  and  "Of  Cus 
tom  and  Education." 
*  Bacon's  Essay  "Of  Nature  in  Man." 

lie  that  seeketh  victonj  over  his  nature,  let  him  not 
set  himself  too  great,  nor  too  small  tasks  ,*  for  the  first 
will  make  him  dejected  by  often  failings  ;  and  the  second 
mil  make  him  a  small  proceeder,  though  by  often  pre 
vailings. 


14.  Of  the  powers  of  books   and  studies  upon  the 

mind. 

Is  not  the  opinion  of  Aristotle  worthy  to  be 
regarded,  wherein  he  saith,  "  That  young  men 
are  no  fit  auditors  of  moral  philosophy,  be 
cause  they  are  not  settled  from  the  boiling  heat 
of  their  affections,  nor  attempered  with  time 
and  experience  ?" 

But  is  it  not  true  also,  that  much  less  young 
men  are  fit  auditors  of  matters  of  policy,  till 
they  have  been  thoroughly  seasoned  in  religion 
and  morality  ,•  lest  their  judgments  be  cor 
rupted,  and  made  apt  to  think  that  there  are 
no  true,  differences  of  things  but  according  to 
utility  and  fortune?3 

15.  There  should   be   caution  lest  moral  instruction 

make  men  too  precise,  arrogant,  and  incom 
patible  ...............................  227 

16.  The  minds  of  all  men  are  at  some  times  in  a  more 

perfect,  and  at  other  times  in  a  more  depraved 
state. 

17.  The  fixation  of  good  times  ................   227 

18.  The  obliteration  of  bad  times  .............   227 

19.  The  golden  rule  of  life  is  to  choose  right  ends  of 

life,  and  agreeing  to  virtue,  and  such  as  may 
be,  in  a  reasonable  sort,  within  our  compass  to 
attain. 

As  when  a  carver  makes  an  image,  he 
shapes  only  that  part  whereupon  he  worketh, 
(as  if  he  be  upon  the  face,  that  part  which 
shall  be  the  body  is  but  a  rude  stone  still,  till 
such  time  as  he  comes  to  it  /)  but,  contrari 
wise,  when  nature  makes  a  flower  or  living 
creature,  sheformeth  rudiments  of  all  the  parts 
at  one  time  .-  so  in  obtaining  virtue  by  habit, 
while  a  man  pradiseth  temperance,  he  doth 
not  profit  much  to  fortitude,  nor  the  like;  but 
when  he  dedicateth  and  applieth  himself  to 
good  ends,  what  virtue  soever  the  pursuit  and 
passage  towards  those  ends  doth  commend 
unto  him,  he  is  invested  of  a  precedent  dispo 
sition  to  conform  himself  thereunto. 

20.  There  is  a  sympathy  between  the  good  of  the  body 

and  of  the  mind. 

As  we  divided  the  good  of  the  body  into 
health,  beauty,  strength,  and  pleasure  ,•  so  the 
good  of  the  mind,  inquired  in  rational  and 
Amoral  knowledges,  tendeth  to  this,  to  make  the 
mind  sound,  and  ivithout  perturbation;  beau 
tiful,  and  graced  with  decency  ,•  and  strong 
and  agile  for  all  duties  of  life. 


1.  Reasons  why  ethics  are  in  some  respects  more  dif 
ficult  than  politics  .....................   228 

1.  Morality  relates  to  man  segregate:  poli 

tics  to  man  congregate. 
Cafo  the  censor  said,  "  that  the  Romans 
were  like  sheep,  for  that  a  man  might  better 
drive  a  flock  of  them  than  one  of  them  ,•  for 
in  a  flock,  if  you  could  get  but  some  few  to  go 
right,  the  rest  would  follow." 

2.  The  object  of  morals   is  internal  good  ; 

for  policy  external  sufficeth. 

3.  States  are  not  so  suddenly  subverted  as 

individuals  ............  .........   228 

States,  as  great  engines,  move  slowly,  and 
are  not  so  soon  put  out  of  frame:  for  as  in 
Egypt  the  seven  good  years  sustained  the  seven 

3  What  says  the  morality  of  our  universities  to  this  opi 
nion? 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


155 


bad,  so  governments,  for  a  time  well  grounded, 
do  bear  out  errors  following. 

2.  Division  of  civil  knowledge. 

1.  Conversation  for  comfort. 

2.  Negotiation  for  use. 

3.  Government  for  protection. 

CONVERSATION 228 

3.  Wisdom  of  conversation  ought  not  to  be  too  much 

affected,  much  less  despised. 

4.  Of  behaviour. 

The  sum  of  behaviour  is  to  retain  a  man's 
own  dignity,  without  intruding  upon  the 
liberty  of  others. 

Behaviour  seemeth  to  me  as  a  garment  of 
the  mind,  and  to  have  the  conditions  of  a  gar 
ment.  For  it  ought  to  be  made  in  fashion  ; 
it  ought  not  to  be  too  curious  ;  it  ought  to  be 
shaped  so  as  to  set  forth  any  good  making  of 
the  mind,  and  hide  any  deformity  ,•  and  above 
all,  it  ought  not  to  be  too  strait,  or  restrained 
for  exercise  or  motion. 

5.  Evils  of  too  much  attention  to  behaviour. 

1.  The  danger  of  affectation. 

2.  Waste  of  time. 

3.  Waste  of  mind,  and  checking  aspirings  to 

higher  virtues. 

4.  Retarding  action. 

6.  The  knowledge  of  conversation  is  not  deficient.  229 

NEGOTIATION 229 

1.  This  knowledge,  to  the  derogation  of  learning,  hath 

not  been  collected  into  writing. 

Of  the  three  wisdoms  which  we  have  set 
down  to  pertain  to  civil  life,  for  wisdom  of 
behaviour,  it  is  by  learned  men  for  the  mos, 
part  despised,  as  an  inferior  to  virtue,  and  an 
enemy  to  meditation  ,•  for  loisdorn  of  govern 
ment,  they  acquit  themselves  we.ll  when  t 
are  called  to  it,  but  that  happeneth  to  few  ; 
but  for  the  wisdom  of  business,  wherein  man's 
life  is  most  conversant,  there  be  no  books  of  it 
except  some  few  scattered  advertisements,  that 
have  no  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  thu 
subject. 

2.  This  knowledge  is  reducible  to  precept,  illustrated 

by  the  proverbs  of  Solomon 229 

3.  Ancient  fables  and  parables  contain   information 

upon  this  subject 231 

4.  The  proper  form  of  writing  upon  this  subject  is  dis 

course  upon  history  or  examples. 

5.  Of  discourses  upon  history  of  times,  and   upor 

lives,  and  upon  letters 231 

KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LIFE.  .     ' 

1.  Preliminary  observations. 

1.  This  is  the  wisdom  of  pressing  a  man's  own 

fortune. 

This  is  the  knowledge  "  sibi  saperc  .•"  sapen 
is  to  move  from  the  centre  to  the  circumfer 
ence : — sibi  sapere,  from  the  circumference  t( 
the  centre. 

2.  Many  are  wise  for  themselves,  yet  weal 

for  the  public. 

Like  ants,  which  are  wise  creatures  fo, 
themselves,  but  very  hurtful  for  the  garden. 

3.  Faber  quisque  fortune  proprise. 

Livy  attribntelh  it  to  Cato  the  first,  "  i> 
hoc  viro  tanto  vis  animi  et  ingenii  inerat,  u 
quocunque  loco  natus  esset,  sibi  ipsefortunam 
facturus  videretur." 


The  open  declaration  of  this  is  impolitic, 
being  taken  and  used  as  spurs  to  industry, 
and  not  as  stirrups  to  insolency,  rather  for  re 
solution  than  for  presumption  or  outward  de 
claration,  have  been  ever  thought  sound  and 
good;  and  are,  no  question,  imprinted  in  the 
greatest  minds,  who  are  so  sensible  of  this 
opinion,  as  they  can  scarce  contain  it  within. 

2.  The  knowledge  of  the  advancement  of  life  is  de 

ficient  231 

3.  The  investigation  of  this  subject  concerns  learning, 

both  in  honour  and  in  substance. 

Pragmatical  men  should  not  go  away  with 
an  opinion  that  learning  is  like  a  lark,  that 
can  mount,  and  sing,  and  please  herself,  and 
nothing  else ;  but  may  know  that  she  holdeth 
as  well  of  the  hawk,  that  can  soar  aloft,  and 
can  also  descend  and  strike  upon  the  prey. 

It  is  the  perfect  law  of  inquiry  of  truth, 
"  that  nothing  be  in  the  globe  of  matter,  which 
should  not  be  likewise  in  the  globe  of  crystal, 
or  form ,"  that  is,  that  there  be  not  any  thing 
in  being  and  action,  which  should  not  be 
drawn  and  collected  into  contemplation  and 
doctrine. 

4.  Learning  esteems  the  architecture  of  fortune  as  of 

an  inferior  work <• 232 

5.  This  doctrine  is  reducible  to  science. 

6.  Precepts  respecting  this  knowledge. 

7.  The  fundamental  precept  is  to  acquire  knowledge 

of  the  particular  motives  by  which  those  with 

whom  we  have  to  deal  are  actuated 232 

Obtain  that  window  which  Momus  did  re 
quire:  who  seeing  in  the  frame  of  man's 
heart  such  angles  and  recesses,  found  fault 
that  there  was  not  a  window  to  look  into  them. 

3.  The  sinews  of  wisdom  are  slowness  of  belief. 

3.  General  modes  of  acquiring  a  knowledge  of 
others ....233 

1.  A  general  acquaintance  with  know 

ing  men. 

2.  A    good   mediocrity   in    liberty   of 

speech  and  secrecy :    indulging 
rather  in  freedom  of  speech. 

3.  A  watchful  and  serene  habit  of  ob 

serving  when  acting. 

10.  Modes  by  which  the  knowledge  of  man  is  acquired. 

1.  By  their  faces. 

2.  By  words. 

3.  By  deeds. 

4.  By  their  natures. 

5.  By  their  ends. 

6.  By  the  relations  of  others. 

11.  More  trust  is  to  be  given  to  countenances  and 

deeds,  than  to  words 232 

The  Faces. 

1 2.  Much  reliance  cannot  be  placed  upon  the  face  at 

rest. 

13.  The  face  in  motion  cannot  deceive  a  vigilant  ob 

server. 

It  is  animi  janua. 


Words. 

14.  They  are  full  of  flattery 

15.  Modes  in  which  words  disclose  character. 

1.  When  sudden. 

vino  tortus  et  ira. 

2.  From  affections. 

8.  From  counter  simulation. 


232 
232 


156 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


Deeds. 

16.  They  are  not  to  be  trusted  without  a  diligent  con 

sideration  of  their  magnitude  and  nature. 

Natures  and  End  of  Men. 

17.  This  is  the  surest  key  to  unlock  men's  minds. 

18.  The  weakest  men  are  best  interpreted  by  their  na 

tures  ;  the  wisest  by  their  ends. 

It  is  an  error  frequent  for  men  to  shoot 
over,  and  to  suppose  deeper  ends,  and  more 
compass-reaches  than  are.1 

1 9.  Princes  are  best  interpreted  by  their  natures ;  pri 

vate  persons  by  their  ends. 

20.  The  variety  and  predominancy  of  affections  are 

to  be  estimated. 

Reports  of  Others. 

21.  Modes  by  which  our  defects  and  virtues  may  be 

estimated  from  report 233 

Of  the  Knowledge  of  Ourselves 233 

22.  A  man  ought  to  make  an  exact  estimate  of  his 

merits  and  defects :  accounting  these  with  the 
most,  and  those  with  the  least. 

Though  men  look  oft  in  a  glass,  yet  they  do 
suddenly  forget  themselves. 

Particular  Considerations  respecting  Self -Knowledge. 

23.  The  consonance,  or  dissonance  of  his  constitution 

and  temper  with  the  times. 

Tiberius  was  never  seen  in  public.  Au 
gustus  lived  ever  in  men's  eyes. 

24.  The  adaptation  of  his  nature  to  the  different  pro 

fessions  and  courses  of  life. 

25.  The  competitors  in  different  professions  ;  that  the 

course  may  be  taken  where  there  is  most  soli 
tude. 

As  Julius  C&sar  did,  who  at  first  ivas  an 
orator  or  pleader ;  but  when  he  saw  the  ex 
cellency  of  Cicero,  Hortensius,  Cafulus,  and 
others,  for  eloquence,  and  saw  there  was  no 
man  of  reputation  for  the  wars  but  Pompeius, 
upon  whom  the  state  was  forced  to  rely,  he 
forsook  his  course  begun  toward  a  civil  and 
popular  greatness,  and  transferred  his  designs 
to  a  martial  greatness. 

26.  In  the  choice  of  friends  to  consult  similar  nature. 

As  we.  may  see  in  Caesar  ,•  all  whose  friends 
and  followers  were  men  active  and  effectual, 
but  not  solemn,  or  of  reputation. 

27.  Caution  is  not  being  misled  by  examples. 

In  which  error  it  seemeth  Pompey  was,  of 
whom  Cicero  saith,  that  he  was  wont  often  to 
say,  "  Sylla  potuit,  ego  non  potero j?" 

The  Art  of  Revealing  a  Man's  Self. 

28.  From  not  properly  revealing  a  man's   self,  the 

less  able  man  is  often  esteemed  before  the  more 
able. 

29.  The  setting  forth  virtues,  and  covering  defects  is 

advantageous 234 

30.  Self-setting-forth  requires  art,  lest  it  turn  to  arro 

gance. 

*  Neither  give  thou  ^sop's  cock  a  gem,  who  would  he  bet 
ter  pleased  and  happier  if  he  had  a  barley-corn.  The  exam 
ples  of  God  teaches  the  lesson  truly  :  "  He  sendeth  his  rain, 
and  inaketh  his  sun  to  shine,  upon  the  just  and  unjust :"  but 
he  doth  not  rain  wealth,  nor  shine  honour  and  virtues  upon 
men  equally  :  common  benefits  are  to  be  communicated  with 
all,  but  peculiar  benefits  with  choice. — Bacon's  Essay  on 
Goodness  and  Goodness  of  Nature. 


31.  The  causes  of  the  undervaluing  merit. 

1.  Self-obtrusion. 

2.  Waste  of  ability. 

3.  Too  sudden  elation  with  applause. 

The  Art  of  Covering  Defects 234 

32.  The  art  of  covering  defects  is  of  as  much  import 

ance  as  a  dexterous  ostentation  of  virtue. .   234 

33.  Modes  of  concealing  defects. 

1.  Caution. 

2.  Colour. 

3.  Confidence. 

34.  A  man  should  not  dismantle  himself  by  showing 

too  much  dulceness,  goodness,  and  facility  of  na 
ture,  without  sparkles  of  liberty,  spirit,  and  edge. 

35.  The  mind  should  be  pliant  and  obedient  to  occa 

sion  235 

Nothing  is  more  politic  than  to  make  the 
wheels  of  our  mind  concentric  and  voluble  with 
the  wheels  of  fortune. 

36.  Precepts  for  the  architect  of  his  own  fortune. 

1.  He  should  not  engage  in  too  arduous  mat 

ters 235 

Fatis  accede  dcisque. 

2.  He  .should  be  able  to  plan  and  to  execute. 

3.  He  should  observe  a  good  mediocrity  in  the 

declaring  or  not  declaring  himself.    235 

4.  He  should  judge  of  the  proportion  or  value 

of  things. 

We  shall  find  the  logical  part,  as  I  may 
term  it,  of  some  men's  minds  good,  but  the 
mathematical  part  erroneous  /  that  is,  they 
can  well  judge  of  consequences,  but  not  of  pro 
portions  and  comparisons,  preferring  things 
of  show  and  sense  before  things  of  substance 
and  effect.2 

5.  He  should  consider  the  order  in  which  ob 

jects  should  be  attained 236 

1.  The  mind  should  be  amended. 

2.  Wealth  and  measure  should  be  at 

tained.3 

3.  Fame  and  reputation  should  be  ac 

quired. 

Because,  of  the  peremptory  tides  and  cur 
rents  it  hath  ;  which,  if  they  be  not  taken  in 
their  due  time,  are  seldom  recovered,  it  being 
extreme  hard  to  play  an  after-game  of  repu 
tation.* 

3  Men  run  after  the  satisfaction  of  their  sottish  appetites, 
foolish  as  fishes  pursuing  a  rotten  worm  that  covers  a  deadly 
hook :  or  like  children  with  great  noise  pursuing  a  bubble 
rising  from  a  walnut  shell.  B.  J.  TAYLOR. 

3   Money  brings  honour,  friends,  conquest  and  realms  : 

Therefore,  if  at  great  things  thou  wouldst  arrive, 

Get  riches  first,  get  wealth,  and  treasure  heap. 

Riches  are  mine,  fortune  is  in  my  hand  : 

They  whom  I  favour  thrive  in  wealth  amain, 

While  virtue,  valour,  wisdom,  sit  in  want. 
To  whom,  thus  Jesus  patiently  replied  : 

Yet  wealth,  without  these  three,  is  impotent 

To  gain  dominion,  or  to  keep  it  gained. 

Witness,  &c. 

Bacon  says,  "God  in  the  first  day  of  creation  made  no 
thing  but  light,  allowing  one  whole  day  to  that  work,  without 
creating  any  material  thing  therein :  so  the  experiments  of 
light  and  not  of  profit  should  be  first  investigated." 

*  There  are  various  sentiments  similar  to  this  in  Shaks- 
peare.  "There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men,"  &c.  So  in 
Antony  and  Cleopatra. 

Who  seeks  and  will  not  take  when  once  'tis  offered, 

Shall  never  find  it  more. 

The    Advancement   of  Learning   was    published    in    1605. 
Shakspeare  died  in  1616.    There  is  a  copy  of  the  Advance- 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


157 


4.  Honour  should  be  sought. 

6.  He  must  not  embrace  matters  which  oc 

cupy  too  much  time. 

Sed  fugit  interea :  fug-it  irreparibile  tempus. 

7.  He  should  imitate  nature,  which  does  no 

thing  in  vain1 236 

If  he  cannot  make  any  thing  of  it  for  the 
present,  yet  to  make  it  as  a  seed  of  somewhat 
in  time  to  come. 

8.  He  should  reserve  a  power  to  retreat.   237 
Following  the  wisdom  in  the  ancient  fable 

of  the  two  frogs,  which  consulted  when  their 
plash  was  dry  whither  they  should  go  ,•  and 
the  one  moved  to  go  down  into  a  pit,  because 
it  was  not  likely  the  water  would  dry  there  ,• 
but  the  other  answered,  "  True;  but  if  it  do, 
how  shall  we  get  out  again?" 

9.  He  should  be  cautious  in  his  friendships 

and  enmities. 

"  Et  ama  tanquam  inimicus  futurus,  et  odi 
tanquam  amaturus" 

37.  Fortunes  may  be  obtained  without  precept. 

They  come  tumbling  into  some  men's  laps  ,• 
and  a  number  obtain. good  fortunes  by  dili 
gence  in  a  plain  way,  little  intermeddling,  and 
keeping  themselves  from  gross  errors. 

38.  Of  vicious  precepts  for  self-advancement. . . .   237 

39.  The  number  of  bad  precepts  for  advancement  in 

life  is  greater  than  good 237 

It  is  in  life  as  it  is  in  ways,  the  shortest  way 
is  commonly  the  foulest,  and  surely  the  fairer 
way  is  not  much  about. 

40.  In  the  pursuit  of  fortune,  man  ought  to  set  before 

his  eyes  the  general  map  of  the  world. . .    237 
All  things  are  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. 
— Being  without  well-being  is  a  curse,-  and 
the  greater  the  being,  the  greater  the  curse. 

41.  The  incessant  and  Sabbathless  pursuit  of  fortune 

leaveth  not  the  tribute  which  we  owe  to  God 
of  our  time. 

It  is  to  small  purpose  to  have  an  erected  face 
towards  heaven,  and  a  perpetual  grovelling 
spirit  upon  earth,  eating  dust,  as  doth  the  ser 
pent. 

42.  The  adopting  vicious  precepts  cannot  be  tolerated 

by  the  intended  good  ends. 

43.  Fortune,  like  a  woman,  if  too  much  wooed,  is  the 

further  off 238 

44.  Divinity  points  upwards  to  the  kingdom  of  God : 

philosophy  inwards  to  the  goods  of  the  mind. 
The  human  foundation  hath  somewhat  of 


ment  of  Learning  in  existence,  with  Shakspeare's  autograph 
in  it.  The  same  sentiment  is  expressed  by  Dryden. 

Heaven  has  to  all  allotted  soon  or  late, 
Some  lucky  revolution  of  their  fate ; 
Whose  motions  if  we  watch  and  guide  with  skill, 
For  human  good  depends  on  human  will. 
Our  fortune  rolls  as  from  a  smooth  descent, 
And  from  the  first  impression  takes  the  bent ; 
But  if  unseized!  she  glides  away  like  wind, 
And  leaves  repenting  folly  far  behind! 

The  same  sentiment  is  contained  in  the  Essays.  "It  is  usu 
ally  said  of  Fortune  that  she  has  locks  before,  but  none  behind." 
"Fortune  is  like  Time,  if  you  do  not  take  him  by  the  fore 
lock;  he  turns  his  bald  noddle  to  you;"  or  at  least,  turneth 
the  handle  of  the  bottle  first  to  be  received;  and  after  the 
belly,  which  is  hard  to  clasp. 

i  Events  are  not  in  our  power;  but  it  always  is  to  make  a 
good  use  of  the  very  worst.  Minute  Philosopher. 


the  sands,  as  we  see  in  M.  Brutus,  when  he 
brake  forth  into  that  speech, 

"  Te  colui,  virtus,  ut  rem ;  at  tu  nomen  inane  es ;" 
yet  the  divine  foundation  is  upon  the  rock. 


WISDOM  OF  GOVERNMENT. 


..    238 

1.  Government  is  a  part  of  knowledge,  secret  and  re 

tired. 

2.  In  the  governors  towards  the  government  all  things 

ought  to  be  manifest. 

3.  Statesmen  are  the  proper  persons  to  write  on  uni 

versal  justice 238 

4.  Of  universal  justice. 

There  are  in  nature  certain  fountains  of 
justice,  whence  all  civil  laws  are  derived  but 
as  streams  ,•  and  like  as  waters  do  take  tinc 
tures  and  tastes  from  the  soils  through  vjhich 
they  run,  so  do  civil  laws  vary  according  to 
the  regions  and  governments  where  they  are 
planted,  though  they  proceed  from  the  same 
fountains. 

5.  Of  the  wisdom  of  a  law  maker 238 

6.  Bacon  intends  a  work  in  aphorisms  upon  universal 

justice.2 

7.  Of  the  laws  of  England 239 

The  whole  book  is  not  much  better  than  that 
noise  or  sound  which  musicians  make  while 
they  are  tuning  their  instruments  ,•  which  is 
nothing  pleasant  to  hear,  but  yet  is  a  cause 
why  the  music  is  sweeter  afterwards .-  so  have 
I  been  content  to  tune  the  instruments  of  the 
muses,  that  they  may  play  that  have  better 
hands. 

8.  Observations  upon  the  prospects  of  the  progress  of 

knowledge. 

REVEALED   RELIGION 239 

1.  It  is  the  sabbath  of  all  men's  labours. 

2.  The  prerogative  of  God  extends  to  man's  reason, 

and  to  his  will. 

3.  Sacred  theology  is  grounded  upon  the  oracle  of  God. 

4.  The  use  of  reason  in  matters  spiritual   is  exten 

sive. 

The  Christain  Faith,  as  in  all  things  so  in 
this,  deserveth  to  be  highly  magnified;  hold 
ing  and  preserving  the  golden  mediocrity  in 
this  point  between  the  law  of  the  heathen  and 
the  law  of  Mahomet,  which  have  embraced  the 
two  extremes.  For  the  religion  of  the  heathen 
had  no  constant  belief  or  confession,  but  left 
all  to  the  liberty  of  argument ;  and  the  reli- 

fion  of  Mahomet,  on  the  other  side,  inter- 
icteth  argument  altogether .-  the  one  having 
the  very  face  of  error,  and  the  other  of  im 
posture. 

5.  Uses  of  reason  in  spiritual  matters 240 

1.  In  the  conception  of  revealed  mysteries. 

2.  In  inferences  from  revelation. 

6.  A  treatise  on  the  limits  of  reason  in  spiritual  mat 

ters  is  wanting. 

This  would  be  an  opiate  to  stay  and  bridle 
not  only  the  vanity  of  curious  speculations, 
wherewith  the  schools  labour,  but  the  fury  of 
controversies,  wherewith  the  church  laboureth. 

7.  Parts  of  divinity. 

1.  The  matter  revealed. 

2.  The  nature  of  the  revelation. .   241 

»  See  the  Treatise  "  De  Augmentis,"  where  some  progress 
is  made  in  this  science,  now  nobly  advanced,  and  advancing 
by  the  labours  of  Bentham.— (See  note  V.) 

0 


158 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  REVELATION. 

1.  Its  limits. 

2.  Its  sufficiency. 

3.  Its  acquisition. 

8.  The  points  fundamental  and  of  perfection  ought  to 

be  distinguished -   241 

We  see  Moses  when  he  saw  the  Israelite  and 
the  Egyptian  fight,  he  did  not  say,  Why 
strive  you?  but  drew  his  sword  and  slew  the 
Egyptian :  but  when  he  saw  the  two  Israel 
ites  fight,  he  said,  You  are  brethren,  why 
strive  you? 

The  coat  of  our  Saviour  was  entire  without 
seam,  and  so  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Scriptures 
in  itself ,-  but  the  garment  of  the  church  was 
of  divers  colours. 

The  Limits  of  the  Information 241 

9.  Considerations  respecting  the  limits. 

1.  The  inspiration  of  individuals. 

2.  The  inspiration  of  the  church. 

3.  The  proper  use  of  reason. 

The  Sufficiency  of  the  Information 241 

10.  Considerations  respecting  the  sufficiency. 

1.  Fundamental  and  perfective  points  of  reli 

gion. 

They  ought  to  be  piously  and  wisely  distin 
guished  to  abate  controversy. 

2.  The  gradations  of  light  for  the  generation 

of  belief. 

The  Acquisition  of  the  Information  ...   241 

11.  It  rests  upon  the  sound  interpretation  of  Scrip 

ture. 

They  are  the  fountains  of  the  waters  of  life. 

1 2.  Different  modes  of  interpreting  Scripture. 

1.  Methodical. 

2.  Solute  or  at  large. 

This  divine  water  which  excelleth  so  much 
that  of  Jacob's  well,  is  drawn  forth  much  in 
the  same  kind  as  natural  water  useth  to  be  out 
of  wells  and  fountains;  either  it  is  first 
forced  up  into  a  cistern,  and  from  thence 
fetched  and  derived  for  use,-  or  else  it  is 
drawn  and  received  in  buckets  and  vessels  im 
mediately  where  it  springeth. 

13.  Methodical  mode  of  interpretation. 

It  seems  to  be  more  ready,  but  is  more  sub 
ject  to  corrupt. 
J4.  Objects  of  methodical  interpretation. 

1.  Summary  brevity. 

2.  Compacted  strength. 

3.  Complete  perfection. 

L5.  Solute  method  of  interpretation 242 

t.6.  There    have    been    divers    curious    but    unsafe 
modes. 


17.  Divine  knowledge  beyond  human  reach. 

1.  The  mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of  glory. 

The  anagogical  mode  of  exposition  242 

The  philosophical  mode. 242 

To  seek  philosophy  in  divinity  is  to  seek  the 
dead  amongst  the  living.-  neither  are  the  pots 
or  lavers,  whose  place  was  in  the  outward  part 
of  the  temple,  to  be  sought  in  the  holiest  place 
of  all,  where  the  ark  of  the  testimony  was 
seated. 

2.  The  perfection  of  the  laws  of  nature. 

3.  The  secrets  of  the  heart  of  man 242 

4.  The  future  succession  of  all  ages. 

18.  The  expositions  of  Scripture  are  not  deficient. 

19.  A  work  is  wanted  of  a  sound  collection  of  texts, 

not    dilated   into   commonplaces,  or    hunting 
after  controversies,  or  methodized,  but  scattered. 

MATTER  REVEALED 243 

20.  Different  sorts. 

The  one  being  as  the  Internal  soul  of  reli* 
gion,  and  the  other  as  the  external  body. 

1.  Matter  of  belief. 

2.  Matter  of  science. 

21.  Emanations. 

1.  Faith. 

1.  The  nature  of  God. 

2.  The  attributes  of  God. 

3.  The  works  of  God. 

2.  Manners 243 

Of  the  law,  as  to  substance  and  style. 

It  imposes  restraint  where  God  granteth 
liberty,  or  in  taking  liberty  where  God  im- 
poseth  restraint. 

3.  Liturgy 24? 

4.  Government. 

1.  Patrimony  of  the  church. 

2.  The  franchises  of  the  church. 

3.  The  jurisdiction  of  the  church. 

4.  The  laws  of  the  church. 

22.  Deviations  from  religion. 

Atheism. 
Heresy. 
Idolatry. 
Witchcraft. 

23.  There  is  no  deficience  in  divinity. 

/  can  find  no  space  or  ground  that  lieth  va 
cant  and  unsown  in  the  matter  of  divinity  ; 
so  diligent  have  men  been,  either  in  sowing  of 
good  seed,  or  in  sowing  of  tares. 


Thus  have  I  made  as  it  were  a  small  Globe 
of  the  Intellectual  World,  as  truly  and  faith 
fully  as  I  could  discover ,-  with  a  note  and  de 
scription  of  those  parts  which  seem  to  me  not 
constantly  occupate,  or  not  well  converted  by 
the  labour  of  man. 


(a)  HUMAN  PHILOSOPHY ;  OR, 
KNOWLEDGE  OF  MAN. 
^ I 


ANALYSIS  OF 
ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


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i59 


THE  FIRST  BOOK 


OP 


FRANCIS     BACON 


OF    THE 


PROFICIENCE  AND  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING, 

DIVINE  AND  HUMAN. 


TO  THE  KING. 


THERE  were,  under  the  law.  excellent  king,  both 
daily  sacrifices,  and  freewill-offerings ;  the  one  pro 
ceeding  upon  ordinary  observance,  the  other  upon  a 
devout  cheerfulness  :  in  like  manner  there  belong- 
eth  to  kings  from  their  servants  both  tribute  of  duty 
and  presents  of  affection.  In  the  former  of  these  I 
hope  I  shall  not  live  to  be  wanting,  according  to  my 
most  humble  duty,  and  the  good  pleasure  of  your 
majesty's  employments  :  for  the  latter  I  thought  it 
more  respective  to  make  choice  of  some  oblation, 
which  might  ratber  refer  to  the  propriety  and  ex 
cellency  of  your  individual  person,  than  to  the  busi 
ness  of  your  crown  and  state. 

Wherefore,  representing  your  majesty  many 
times  unto  my  mind,  and  beholding  you  not  with 
the  inquisitive  eye  of  presumption,  to  discover  that 
which  the  Scripture  telleth  me  is  inscrutable,  but 
with  the  observant  eye  of  duty  and  admiration ; 
leaving  aside  the  other  parts  of  your  virtue  and 
fortune,  I  have  been  touched,  yea,  and  possessed 
with  an  extreme  wonder  at  those  your  virtues  and 
faculties,  which  the  philosophers  call  intellectual ; 
the  largeness  of  your  capacity,  the  faithfulness  of 
your  memory,  the  swiftness  of  your  apprehension, 
the  penetration  of  your  judgment,  and  the  facility 
and  order  of  your  elocution :  and  I  have  often 
thought,  that  of  all  the  persons  living  that  I  have 
known,  your  majesty  were  the  best  instance  to 
make  a  man  of  Plato's  opinion,  that  all  knowledge 
is  but  remembrance,  and  that  the  mind  of  man  by 
nature  knoweth  all  things,  and  hath  but  our  own 
native  and  original  motions  (which  by  the  strange 
ness  and  darkness  of  this  tabernacle  of  the  body 
are  sequestered)  again  revived  and  restored  :  such 
a  light  of  nature  I  have  observed  in  your  majesty, 
and  such  a  readiness  to  take  flame  and  blaze  from 

VOL.  I.— 21 


the  least  occasion  presented,  or  tile  least  spark  of 
another's  knowledge  delivered.  And  as  the  Scrip 
ture  saith  of  the  wisest  king,  "  That  his  heart  was 
as  the  sands  of  the  sea  :"  which  though  it  be  one 
of  the  largest  bodies,  yet  it  consisteth  of  the  small 
est  and  finest  portions ;  so  hath  God  given  your 
maj  esty  a  composition  of  understanding  ad  mirable, 
being  able  to  compass  and  comprehend  the  great 
est  matters,  and  nevertheless  to  touch  and  appre 
hend  the  least :  whereas  it  should  seem  an  impossi 
bility  in  nature,  for  the  same  instrument  to  make  it 
self  fit  for  great  and  small  works.  And  for  your 
gift  of  speech,  I  call  to  mind  what  Cornelius  Taci 
tus  saith  of  Augustus  Caesar ;  "  Augusto  profluens, 
et  quse  principem  deceret,  eloquentia  fuit."  For,  if 
we  note  it  well,  speech  that  is  uttered  with  labour 
and  difficulty,  or  speech  that  savoureth  of  the 
affectation  of  art  and  precepts,  or  speech  that  is 
framed  after  the  imitation  of  some  pattern  of 
eloquence,  though  never  so  excellent,  all  this  has 
somewhat  servile,  and  holding  of  the  subject. 
But  your  majesty's  manner  of.speech  is  .indeed 
prince-like,  flowing  as  from  a  fountain,  and  yet 
streaming  and  branching  itself  into  nature's  order, 
full  of  facility  and  felicity,  imitating  none,  and  in 
imitable  by  any.  '  And  as  in  your  civil  estate  there 
appeareth  to  be  an  emulation  and  contention  of  your 
majesty's  virtue  with  your  fortune  ;  a  virtuous  dis 
position  with  a  fortunate  regiment ;  a  virtuous  ex 
pectation,  when  time  was,  of  your  greater  fortune, 
with  a  prosperous  possession  thereof  in  the  due 
time;  a  virtuous  observation  of  the  laws  of  marriage, 
with  most  blessed  and  happy  fruit  of  marriage ;  a 
virtuous  and  most  Christian  desire  of  peace,  with  a 
fortunate  inclination  in  your  neighbour  prince? 
thereunto:  so  likewise,  in  these  intellectual  matters 
o2  161 


162 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  I. 


there  seemeth  to  be  no  less  contention  between  the 
excellency  of  your  majesty's  gifts  of  nature,  and 
the  universality  and  perfection  of  your  learning. 
For  I  am  well  assured  that  this  which  I  shall  say 
is  no  amplification  at  all,  but  a  positive  and  mea 
sured  truth ;  which  is,  that  there  hath  not  been 
since  Christ's  time  any  king  or  temporal  monarch, 
which  has  been  so  learned  in  all  literature  and 
erudition,  divine  and  human.  For  let  a  man  seri 
ously  and  diligently  revolve  and  peruse  the  succes 
sion  of  the  emperors  of  Rome ;  of  which  Caesar 
the  dictator,  who  lived  some  years  before  Christ, 
and  Marcus  Antonius,  were  the  best  learned ;  and 
so  descend  to  the  emperors  of  Greecia,  or  of  the 
West ;  and  then  to  the  lines  of  France,  Spain, 
England,  Scotland,  and  the  rest,  and  he  shall  find 
this  judgment  is  truly  made.  For.it  seemeth  much 
in  a  king,  if,  by  the  compendious  extractions  of 
other  men's  wits  and  labours,  he  can  take  hold  of 
any  superficial  ornaments  and  shows  of  learning; 
or  if  he  countenance  and  prefer  learning  and 
learned  men  :  but  t#  drink  indeed  of  the  true  foun 
tains  of  learning,  nay,  to  have  such  a  fountain  of 
learning  in  himself,  in  a  king,  and  in  a  king  born, 
is  almost  a  miracle.  I  And  the  moje,  because  there 
is  met  in  .your  majesty  a  rare  conjunction,  as  well 
of  divine  and  sacred  literature,  as  of  profane  and 
human  ;  so  as  your  majesty  standeth  invested  of 
that  tiiplicity,  which  in  great  veneration  was  as 
cribed  to  the  ancient  Hermes  \  the  power  and  for 
tune  of  a  king,  the  knowledge  and  illumination 
of  a  priest,  and  the  learning  and  universality  of  a 
philosopher.  This  propriety,  inherent  and  indi 
vidual  attribute  in  your  majesty,  deserveth  to  be 
expressed  not  only  in  the  fame  and  admiration  of 
the  present  time,  nor  in  the  history  or  tradition  of 
the  ages  succeeding ;  but  also  in  some  solid 
work,  fixed  memorial,  and  immortal  monument, 
bearing  a  character  or  signature  both  of  the  power 
of  a  king,  and  the  difference  and  perfection  of  such 
a  king. 

Therefore  I  did  conclude  with  myself,  that  I 
could  not  make  unto  your  majesty  a  better  obla 
tion,  than  of  some  treatise  tending  to  that  end, 
whereof  the  sum  will  consist  of  these  two  parts ; 
the  former,  concerning  the  excellency  ofleajning 
mcT  knowTed^gepanT  the  excellency  of  thejnerit 
and  tru^^l^fy-irrtfte'augmentation  and  propaga- 
jpj^Jhereof ;  the_.latter»^Avhat_the  particular  acts 
4md_  \\rprks  are,  which  have  been  embraced  and 
uiKLertaken  for  tne^dvanc^mfinlloXleanung.;  and 
again,  what  defects  and  undervalues  I  find  in  such 
particular  acts :  to  the  end,  that  though  I  cannot 
positively  or  affirmatively  advise  your  majesty, 
or  propound  unto  you  framed  particulars ;  yet  I 
may  excite  your  princely  cogitations  to  visit  the 
excellent  treasure  of  your  own  mind,  and  thence 
to  extract  particulars  for  this  purpose,  agreeable 
to  your  magnanimity  and  wisdom. 

IN  the  entrance  to  the  former  of  these,  to  clear 


the  way,  and,  as  it  were,  to  make  silence,  to  have 
the  true  testimonies  concerning  the  dignity  of 
learning  to  be  better  heard,  without  the  interrup 
tion  of  tacit  objections  ;  I  think  good  to  deliver  it 
from  the  discredits  and  disgraces  which  it  hath 
received,  all  from  ignorance,  but  ignorance  sever 
ally  disguised  ;  appearing  sometimes  in  the  zeal 
and  jealousy  of  divines;  sometimes  in  the  severi 
ty  and  arrogancy  of  politicians ;  and  sometimes 
in  the  errors  and  imperfections  of  learned  men 
themselves. 

I  hear  the  former  sort  say,  that  knowledge  is 
of  those  things  which  are  to  be  accepted  of  with 
great  limitation  and  caution ;  that  the  aspiring  to 
overmuch  knowledge,  was  the  original  temptation 
and  sin,  whereupon  ensued  the  fall  of  man ;  that 
knowledge  hath  in  it  somewhat  of  the  serpent,  and 
therefore  where  it  entereth  into  a  man  it  makes  him 
swell ;  "  Scientia  inflat :"  that  Solomon  gives  a 
censure,  "That  there  is  no  end  of  making  books, 
and  that  much  reading  is  a  weariness  of  the  flesh ;" 
and  again  in  another  place,  "  That  in  spacious 
knowledge  there  is  much  contestation,  and  that 
he  that  increaseth  knowledge  increaseth  anxiety ;" 
that  St.  Paul  gives  a  caveat,  "  That  we  be  not 
spoiled  through  vain  philosophy ;"  that  expe 
rience  demonstrates  how  learned  men  have  been 
arch-heretics,  how  learned  times  have  been  in 
clined  to  atheism,  and  how  the  contemplation  of 
second  causes  doth  derogate  from  our  dependence 
upon  God,  who  is  the  first  cause. 

To  discover  then  the  ignorance  and  error  of  this 
opinion,  and  the  misunderstanding  in  the  grounds 
thereof,  it  may  well  appear  these  men  do  not  ob 
serve  or  consider,  that  it  was  not  the  pure  know 
ledge  of  nature  and  universality,  a  knowledge  by 
the  light  whereof  man  did  give  names  unto  other 
creatures  in  Paradise,  as  they  were  brought  before 
him,  according  unto  their  proprieties,  which  gave 
the  occasion  to  the  fall ;  but  it  was  the  proud 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  with  an  intent  in  man 
to  give  law  unto  himself,  and  to  depend  no  more 
upon  God's  commandments,  which  was  the  form 
of  the  temptation.  Neither  is  it  any  quantity  of 
knowledge,  how  great  soever,  that  can  make  the 
mind  of  man  to  swell  ;  for  nothing  can  fill,  much 
less  extend  the  soul  of  man,  but  God  and  the 
contemplation  of  God  ;  and  therefore  Solomon 
speaking  of  the  two  principal  senses  of  inqui 
sition,  the  eye  and  the  ear,  affirmeth  that  the  eye 
is  never  satisfied  with  seeing,  nor  the  ear  with 
hearing ;  and  if  there  be  no  fulness,  then  is  the 
continent  greater  than  the  content :  so  of  know 
ledge  itself,  and  the  mind  of  man,  whereto  the 
senses  are  but  reporters,  he  defiineth  likewise  in 
these  words,  placed  after  that  calendar  or  ephe- 
merides,  which  he  maketh  of  the  diversities  of 
times  and  seasons  for  all  actions  and  purposes ; 
and  concludeth  thus  :  "  God  hath  made  all  things 
beautiful,  or  decent,  in  the  true  return  of  their  sea 
sons  :  Also  he  hath  placed  the  world  in  man's 


BOOK  I. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


163 


heart,  yet  cannot  man  find  out  the  work  which 
God  worketh  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  :" 
declaring1,  not  obscurely,  that  God  hath  framed 
the  mind  of  man  as  a  mirror  or  glass,  capable  of 
the  image  of  the  universal  world,  and  joyful  to 
receive  the  impression  thereof,  as  the  eye  joyeth 
to  receive  light ;  and  not  only  delighted  in  behold 
ing  the  variety  of  things,  and  vicissitude  of  times, 
but  raised  also  to  find  out  and  discern  the  ordi 
nances  and  decrees,  which  throughout  all  those 
changes  are  infallibly  observed.  And  although 
he  doth  insinuate,  that  the  supreme  or  summary 
law  of  nature,  which  he  calleth,  "  The  work  which 
God  worketh  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  is 
not  possible  to  be  found  out  by  man;"  yet  that 
doth  not  derogate  from  the  capacity  of  the  mind, 
but  may  be  referred  to  the  impediments,  as  of 
shortness  of  life,  ill  conjunction  of  labours,  ill 
tradition  of  knowledge  over  from  hand  to  hand, 
and  many  other  inconveniences,  whereunto  the 
condition  of  man  is  subject.  For  that  nothing 
parcel  of  the  world  is. denied  to  man's  inquiry  and 
invention,  he  doth  in  another  place  rule  over, 
when  he  saith,  "  The  spirit  of  man  is  as  the  lamp 
of  God,  wherewith  he  searcheth  the  inwardness 
of  all  secrets."  If  then  such  be  the  capacity  and 
receipt  of  the  mind  of  man,  it  is  manifest,  that 
there  is  no  danger  at  all  in  the  proportion  or  quan 
tity  of  knowledge,  how  large  soever,  lest  it  should 
make  it  swell  or  out-compass  itself;  no,  but  it 
is  merely  the  quality  of  knowledge,  which,  be  it 
in  quantity  more  or  less,  if  it  be  taken  without  the 
true  corrective  thereof,  hath  in  it  some  nature  of 
venom  or  malignity,  and  some  effects  of  that  ve 
nom,  which  is  ventosity  or  swelling.l  This  cor 
rective  spice,  the  mixture  \vhereofmaketh  know 
ledge  so  sovereign,  is  charity,  which  the  apostle 
immediately  addeth  to  the  former  clause  ;  for  so 
he  saith,  "knowledge  bloweth  up,  but  charity 
buildeth  up  ;"  not  unlike  unto  that  which  he  de- 
livereth  in  another  place  :  "  If  I  spake,"  saith  he, 
"with  the  tongues  of  men  and  angels,  and  had 
not  charity,  it  were  but  as  a  tinkling  cymbal ;" 
not  but  that  it  is  an  excellent  thing  to  speak 
with  the  tongues  of  men  and  angels,  but  because, 
if  it  be  severed  from  charity,  and  not  referred  to 
the  good  of  men  and  mankind,  it  hath  rather  a 
sounding  and  unworthy  glory,  than  a  meriting 
and  substantial  virtue.  And  as  for  that  censure 
of  Solomon,  concerning  the  excess  of  writing  and 
reading  books,  and  the  anxiety  of  spirit  which  re- 
doundeth  from  knowledge ;  and  that  admonition  of 
St.  Paul,  "  That  we  be  not  seduced  by  vain  philoso 
phy;"  let  those  places  be  rightly  understood,  and 
they  do  indeed  excellently  set  forth  the  true  bounds 
and  limitations,  whereby  human  knowledge  is 
confined  and  circumscribed  ;  and  yet  without  any 
such  contracting  or  coarctation,  but  that  it  may 
comprehend  all  the  universal  nature  of  things ; 
for  these  limitations  are  three  :  the  first,  that  we 
not  so  place  our  felicity  in  knowledge,  as  we 


forget  our  mortality.  The  second,  that  we  make 
application  of  our  knowledge,  to  give  ourselves 
repose  and  contentment,  and  not  distaste  or  repin 
ing.  The  third,  that  we  do  not  presume  by  the 
contemplation  of  nature  to  attain  to  the  mysteries 
of  God.  For,  as  touching  the  first  of  those,  Solo 
mon  doth  excellently  expound  himself  in  another 
place  of  the  same  book,  where  he  saith  ;  "  I  saw 
well  that  knowledge  recedeth  as  far  from  igno 
rance  as  light  doth  from  darkness  ;  and  that  the 
wise  man's  eyes  keep  watch  in  his  head,  whereas 
the  fool  roundeth  about  in  darkness  :  but  withal  I 
learned,  that  the  same  mortality  involveth  them 
both."  And  for  the  second,  certain  it  is,  there  is 
no  vexation  or  anxiety  of  mind  which  resulteth 
from  knowledge,  otherwise  than  merely  by  acci 
dent  ;  for  all  knowledge,  and  wonder  (which  is 
the  seed  of  knowledge)  is  an  impression  of  plea 
sure  in  itself :  but  when  men  fall  to  framing  conclu 
sions  out  of  their  knowledge,  applying  it  to  their 
particular,  and  ministering  to  themselves  thereby 
weak  fears  or  vast  desires,  there  groweth  that 
carefulness  and  trouble  of  mind  which  is  spoken 
of:  for  then  knowledge  is  no  more.  "  Lumen 
siccum,"  whereof  Heraclitus  the  Profound  said, 
"  Lumen  siccum  optima  anima;"  but  itbecometh 
"  Lumen  madidum,  or  maceratum,"  being  steeped 
and  infused  in  the  humours  of  the  affections.  And 
as  for  the  third  point,  it  deserveth  to  be  a  little 
stood  upon,  and  not  to  be  lightly  passed  over : 
for  if  any  man  shall  think,  by  view  and  inquiry 
into  these  sensible  and  material  things,  to  attain 
that  light,  whereby  he  may  reveal  unto  himself 
the  nature  or  will  of  God,  then  indeed  is  he 
spoiled  by  vain  philosophy  :  for  the  contemplation 
of  God's  creatures  and  works  produceth  (having 
regard  to  the  works  and  creatures  themselves) 
knowledge  ;  but  having  regard  to  God,  no  perfect 
knowledge,  but  wonder,  which  is  broken  knoAv- 
ledge.  And  therefore  it  was  most  aptly  said  by 
one  of  Plato's  school, — "  That  the  sense  of  man 
carrieth  a  resemblance  with  the  sun,  which,  as  we 
see,  openeth  and  revealeth  all  the  terrestrial  globe ; 
but  then  again  it  obscureth  and  concealeth  the 
stars  and  celestial  globe ;  so  doth  the  sense 
discover  natural  things,  but  it  darkeneth  and 
shutteth  up  divine."  And  hence  it  is  true,  that 
it  hath  proceeded,  that  divers  great  learned  men 
have  been  heretical,  whilst  they  have  sought  to 
fly  up  to  the  secrets  of  the  Deity  by  the  waxen 
wings  of  the.  senses.  And  as  for  the  conceit  that 
too  much'  knowledge  should  incline  a  man  to 
atheism,  and  that  the  ignorance  of  second  causes 
should  make  a  more  devout  dependance  upon  God, 
which  is  the  first  cause  ;  First,  it  is  good  to  ask 
the  question  which  Job  asked  of  his  friends  ; 
«  Will  you  lie  for  God,  as  one  man  will  do  for 
another  to  gratify  him  T'  For  certain  it  is  that 
God  worketh  nothing  in  nature  but  by  second 
causes  ;  and  if  they  would  have  it  otherwise  be 
lieved,  it  is  mere  imposture,  as  it  were  in  favou? 


164 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  1. 


towards  God ;  and  nothing  else  but  to  offer  to 
the  Author  of  truth  the  unclean  sacrifice  of  a  lie. 
But  farther,  it  is  an  assured  truth,  and  a  conclu 
sion  of  experience,  that  a  little  or  superficial 
knowledge  of  philosophy  may  incline  the  mind 
of  man  to  atheism,  but  a  farther  proceeding  there 
in  doth  bring  the  mind  back  again  to  religion ; 
for  in  the  entrance  of  philosophy,  when  the 
second  causes,  which  are  next  unto  the  senses, 
do  offer  themselves  to  the  mind  of  man,  if  it  dwell 
and  stay  there,  it  may  induce  some  oblivion  of 
the  highest  cause ;  but  when  a  man  passeth  on 
farther,  and  seeth  the  dependence  of  causes,  and 
the  works  of  Providence ;  then,  according  to  the 
allegory  of  the  poets,  he  will  easily  believe  that 
the  highest  link  of  nature's  chain  must  needs  be 
tied  to  the  foot  of  Jupiter's  chair.  To  conclude 
therefore,  let  no  man,  upon  a  weak  conceit  of  so 
briety,  or  an  ill-applied  moderation,  think  or 
maintain,  that  a  man  can  search  too  far,  or  be  too 
,  well  studied  in  the  book  of  God's  word,  or  in  the 

I/  book  of  God's  works ;  divinity  or  philosophy  ; 
but  rather  let  men  endeavour  an  endless  progress 
or  proficience  in  both  ;  only  let  men  beware  that 
they  apply  both  to  charity,  and  not  to  swelling  ; 
to  use,  and  not  to  ostentation ;  and  again,  that 
they  do  not  unwisely  mingle  or  confound  these 
learnings  together. 

And  as  for  the  disgraces  whichlearning  receiv- 
eth  from   politicians,  they  be  of  this  nature; 'that 

v'  learning  doth  soften  men's  minds,  and  makes 
them  more  unapt  for  the  honour  and  exercise  of 
arms  ;  that  it  doth  mar  and  pervert  men's  dispo 
sitions  for  matter  of  government  and  policy  ;  in 
making  them  too  curious  and  irresolute  by  variety 
of  reading ;  or  too  peremptory  or  positive  by  strict 
ness  of  rules  and  axioms  ;  or  too  immoderate  and 
overweening  by  reason  of  the  greatness  of  exam 
ples  ;  or  too  incompatible  and  differing  from  the 
times  by  reason  of  the  dissimilitude  of  examples  ; 
or  at  least,  that  it  doth,  divert  men's  travails  from 
action  and  business,  and  bringeth  them,  to  a  love 
of  leisure  and  privateness  ;  and  that  it  dotli  bring 
into  states  a  relaxation.of  discipline,  whilst  every 
man  is  more  ready  to  argue,  than  obey  a*id  execute. 
Out  of  this  conceit,  Cato,  surnamed  the  Censor, 
one  of  the  wisest  men  indeed  that  ever  lived, 
when  Carneades  the  philosopher  came  in  embas- 
sage  to  Rome,  and  that  the  )roung  men  of  Rome 
began  to  flock  about  him,  being  allured  with  tbe 
sweetness  and  majesty  of  his  eloquence  and  learn 
ing,  gave  cou  nsel  in  open  senate,  that  they  should 
give  him  his  despatch  with  all  speed,  lest  he 
should  infect  and  enchant  the  minds  and  affections 
of  the  youth,  and  at  unawares  bring  in  an  altera 
tion  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  state.  Out 
of  the- same  conceit,  or  humour,  did  Virgil,  turn 
ing  his  pen  to  the  advantage  of  his  country,  and 
the  disadvantage  of  his  own  profession,  make  a 
khivl  of  separation  between  policy  and  govern 
ment,  and  between  arts  and  sciences,  in  the  verses 


so  much  renowned,  attributing  and  challenging 
the  one  to  the  Romans,  and  leaving  and  yielding 
the  other  to  the  Grecians  ;  "  Tu  regere  imperio  po- 
pulos,  Romane,  memento,  Has  tibi  erunt  artes,  &c." 
So  likewise  we  see  that  Anytus,  the  accuser  of  So 
crates,  laid  it  as  an  article  of  charge  and  accusa 
tion  against  him,  that  he  did,  with  the  variety  and 
power  of  his  discourses  and  disputations,  with 
draw  young  men  from  due  reverence  to  the  laws 
and  customs  of  their  country :  and  that  he  did 
profess  a  dangerous  and  pernicious  science,  which 
was,  to  make  the  worse  matter  seem  the  better, 
and  to  suppress  truth  by  force  of  eloquence  and 
speech. 

But  these,  and  the  like  imputations,  have  rather 
a  countenance  of  gravity,  than  any  ground  of  jus 
tice  :  for  experience  doth  warrant,  that  both  in 
persons  and  in  times,  there  hath  been  a  meeting 
and  concurrence  in  learning  and  arms,  flourishing 
and  excelling  in  the  same  men  and  the  same  ages. 
For,  as  for  men,  there  cannot  be  a  better,  nor  the 
like  instance,  as  of  that  pair,  Alexander  the  Great 
and  Julius  Caesar  the  dictator;  whereof  the  one 
was  Aristotle's  scholar  in  philosophy,  and  the 
other  was  Cicero's  rival  in  eloquence  :-  or  if  any 
man  had  rather  call  for  scholars  that  were  great 
generals,  than  generals  that  were  great  scholars, 
let  him  take  Epaminondas  the  Theban,  or  Xeno- 
phon  the  Athenian ;  whereof  the  one  was  the  first 
that  abated  the  power  of  Sparta,  and  the  other 
was  the  first  that  made  way  to  the  overthrow  of 
the  monarchy  of  Persia.  And  this  concurrence  is 
yet  more  visible  in  times  than  in  persons,  by  how 
much  an  age  is  a  greater  object  than  a  man.  For 
both  in  JKgypt,  Assyria,  Persia,  Greecia,  and 
Rome,  the  same  times  that  are  most  renowned 
for  arms,  are  likewise  most  admired  for  learning  ; 
so  that  the  greatest  authors  and  philosophers,  and 
the  greatest  captains  and  governors,  have  lived  in 
the  same  ages.  Neither  can  it  otherwise  be  :  for 
as,  in  man,  the  ripeness  of  strength  of  the  body 
and  mind  cometh  much  about  an  age,  save  that 
the  strength  of  the  body  cometh  somewhat  the 
more  early ;  so  in  states,  arms,  and  learning, 
whereof  the  one  corresponded  to  the  body,  the 
other  to  the  soul  of  man,  have  a  concurrence  or 
near  sequence  in  times. 

And  for  matter  of  policy  and  government,  that 
learning  should  rather  hurt,  than  enable  thereunto, 
is  a  thing  very  improvable  :  we  spe  it  is  account 
ed  an  error  to  commit  a  natural  body  to  empiric 
physicians,  which  commonly  have  a  few  pleasing 
receipts,  whereupon  they  are  confident  and  adven 
turous,  but  know  neither  the  causes  of  diseases, 
nor  the  complexion  of  patients,  nor  the  peril  of 
accidents,  nor  the  true  method  of  cures  :  we  see 
it  is  a  like  error  to  rely  upon  advocates  or  law 
yers,  which  are  only  men  of  practice,  and  not 
grounded  in  their  books,  who  are  many  times 
easily  surprised,  when  matter  falleth  out  besides 
their  experience,  to  the  prejudice  of -the  causes 


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165 


they  handle  :  so,  by  like  reason,  it  cannot  be  but 
a  matter  of  doubtful  consequence,  if  states  be 
managed  by  empiric  statesmen,  not  well  mingled 
with  men  grounded  in  learning.  But  contrari 
wise,  it  is  almost  without  instance  contradictory, 
that  ever  any  government  was  disastrous  that 
was  in  the  hands  of  learned  governors.  For 
howsoever  it  hath  been  ordinary  with  politic  men' 
to  extenuate  and  disable  learned  men  by  the  names 
of  pedants  ;  yet  in  the  records  of  time  it  appear- 
eth,  in  many  particulars,  that  the  governments  of 
princes  in  minority  (notwithstanding  the  infinite 
disadvantage  of  that  kind  of  state)  have  neverthe 
less  excelled  the  government  of  princes  of  mature 
age,  even  for  that  reason  which  they  seek  to  tra 
duce,  which  is,  that  by  that  occasion  the  state 
hath  been  in  the  hands  of  pedants  :  for  so  was  the 
state  of  Rome  for  the  first  five  years,  which  are 
so  much  magnified,  during  the  minority  of  Nero, 
in  the  hands  of  Seneca,  a  pedant :  so  it  was  again 
for  ten  years'  space  or  mo*e,  during  the  minority 
of  Gordianus  the  younger,  with  great  applause 
and  contentation  in  the  hands  of  Misitheus,  a1 
%pedant :  so  it  was  before  that,  in  the  minority  of 
Alexander  Severus,  in  like  happiness,  in  hands 
not  much  unlike,  by  reason  of  the  rule  of  the 
women,  who  were  aided  by  the  teachers  and  pre 
ceptors.  Nay,  let  a  man  look  into  the  govern 
ment  of  the  bishops  of  Rome,  as  by  name,  into 
the  government  of  Pius  Quintus,  and  Sextus 
Quintus,  in  our  times,  who  were  both  at  their  en 
trance  esteemed  but  as  pedantical  friars,  and  he 
shall  find  that  such  popes  do  greater  things,  and 
proceed  upon  truer  principles  of  estate,  than  those 
which  have  ascended  to  the  papacy  from  an  edu 
cation  and  breeding  in  affairs  of  estate  and  courts 
of  princes  ;  for  although  men  bred  in  learning 
are  perhaps  to  seek  in  points  of  convenience,  and 
accommodating  for  the  present,  which  the  Italians 
call  "  ragioni  di  stato,"  whereof  the  same  Pius 
Quintus  could  not  hear  spoken  with  patience, 
terming  them  inventions  against  religion  and  the 
moral  virtues ;  but  on  the  other  side,  to  recom- 
pence  that,  they  are  perfect  in  those  same  plain 
grounds  of  religion,  justice,  honour,  and  moral 
virtue,  which,  if  they  be  .well  and  watchfully  pur 
sued,  there  will  be  seldom  use  of  those  other,  no 
more  than  of  physic  in  a  sound  or  well-dieted 
body.  Neither  can  the  experience  of  one  man's 
life  furnish  examples  and  precedents  for  the  events 
of  one  man's  life  :  for,  as  it  happeneth  sometimes 
that  the  grandchild,  or  other  descendant,  resem- 
bleth  the  ancestor  more  than  the  son;  so  many 
times  occurrences  of  present  times  may  sort  better 
with  ancient  examples,  than  with  those  of  the 
latter  or  immediate  times  :  and  lastly,  the  wit  of 
one  man  can  no  more  countervail  learning,  than 
one  man's  means  can  hold  way  with  a  common 
purse. 

And  as.  for  those  particular  seducements,  or  in 
dispositions,  of  the  mind  for  policy  and  govern 


ment,  which  learning  is  pretended  to  insinuate; 
if  it  be  granted  that  any  such  thing  be,  it  must  be 
remembered  withal,  that  learning  ministereth  in 
every  of  thtm  greater  strength  of  medicine  or  re 
medy  than  it  offereth  cause  of  indisposition  or 
infirmity  j»,  for  if  by  a  secret  operation,  it  make 
men  perplexed  and  irresolute,  on  the  other  side, 
by  plain  precept,  it  teacheth  them  when  and  upon 
what  ground  to  resolve ;  yea,  arid  how  to  carry 
things  in  suspense  without  prejudice,  till  they 
resolve ;  if  it  make  men  positive  and  regular,  it 
teacheth  them  what  things  are  in  their  nature 
demonstrative,  and  what  are  conjectural;  and  as 
well  the  use  of  distinctions  and  exceptions,  as  the 
latitude  of  principles  and  rules.  If  it  mislead  by 
disproportion,  or  dissimilitude  of  examples,  it 
teacheth  men  the  force  of  circumstances,  the  errors 
of  comparisons,  and  all  the  cautions  of  applica 
tion;  so  that  in  all  these  it  doth'  rectify  more 
effectually  than  it  can  pervert. .  And  these  medi 
cines  it  conveyeth  into  men's  minds  much  more 
forcibly  by  the  quickness  and  penetration  of  ex 
amples,'  For  let  a  man  look  into  the  errors  of 
Clement  the  Seventh,  so  livelily  described  by 
Guicciardine,  who  served  under  him,  or  into  the 
errors  of  Cicero,  painted  out  by  his  own  pencil  in 
his  epistles  to  Atticus,  and  he  will  fly  apace  from 
being  irresolute.  Let  him  look  into  the  errors  of 
Phocion,  and  he  will  beware  how  he  be  obstinate 
or  inflexible.  Let  him  but  read  the  fable  of  Ixion, 
and  it  will  hold  him  from  being  vaporous  or  im 
aginative.  Let  him  look  into  the  errors  of  Cato 
the  Second,  and  he  will  never  be  one  of  the  anti 
podes,  to  tread  opposite  to  the  present  world. 

And  for  the  conceit,  that  learning  should  dispose 
men  to  leisure  and  privateness,^and  make  men    c 
slothful;  it  were  a  strange  thing  if  that  which 
accustometh  the  mind  to  a  perpetual  motion  and 
agitation   should   induce   slothfulness ;    whereas 
contrariwise  it  may  be  truly  affirmed,  that  no  kind 
of  men  love  business  for  itself,  but  those  that  are 
|  learned  ;  for  other  persons  love  it  for  profit,  as  an 
hireling,  that  loves  the  work  for  the  wages  ;  or 
i  for  honour,  as  because  it  beareth  them  up  in  the 
I  eyes  of  men,  and  refresheth  their  reputation,  which 
I  otherwise  would  wear;  or  because  it  putteth them 
in  mind  of  their  fortune,  and  giveth  them  occa 
sion  to  pleasure  and  displeasure ;  or  because  it 
exerciseth  some  faculty  wherein  they  take  pride, 
and   so   entertaineth  them   in  good  humour  and 
''  pleasing  conceits  toward  themselves  ;  or  because 
it  advanceth  any  other  their  ends.     So  that,  as  it 
j  is  said  of  untrue  valours,  that  some  men's  valours 
I  are  in  the  eyes  of  them  that  look  on ;  so  such  men's 
!  industries  are,  in  the  eyes  of  others,  or  at  least  in 
i  regard  of  their  own  designments  :  only  learned 
I  men  love  business,  as  an  action  according  to  nature, 
as  agreeable  to  health  of  mind,  as  exercise  is  to 
i  health  of  body,  taking  pleasure  in  the  action  it 
self,  and  not  in  the  purchase ;   so  that  of  all 
!  men  they  are  the  most  indefatigable,  if  it  be 


166 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  I. 


towards  any  business  which  can  hold   or  detain 
their  mind. 

And  if  any  man  be  laborious  in  reading1  anc 
study,  and  yet  idle  in  business  and  action,  it  grow- 
eth  from  some  weakness  of  body  or  softness  of 
spirit;  such  as  Seneca  speaketh  of:  "  Quidam 
tarn  sunt  umbratiles,  ut  putent  in  turbido  esse 
quicquid  in  luce  est;"  and  not  of  learning:  well 
may  it  be,  that  such  a  point  of  a  man's  nature 
may  make  him  give  himself  to  learning,  but  it  is 
not  learning  that  breedeth  any  such  point  in  his 
nature. 

And  that  learning  should  take  up  too  much  time 
or  leisure  :  I  answer  ;  the  most  active  or  busy  man 
that  hath  been  or  can  be,  hath,  no  question,  many 
vacant  times  of  leisure,  while  he  expecteth  the  tides 
and  returns  of  business,  (except  he  be  either  tedious 
and  of  no  despatch,  or  lightly  and  unworthily  am 
bitious  to  meddle  in  things  that  may  be  better  done 
by  others  :)  and  then  the  question  is,  but  how  those 
spaces  and  times  of  leisure  shall  be  filled  and 
spent ;  whether  in  pleasures  or  in  studies  ;  as  was 
well  answered  by  Demosthenes  to  his  adversary 
^Eschines,  that  was  a  man  given  to  pleasure,  and 
told  him  that  his  orations  did  smell  of  the  lamp  : 
"  Indeed,"  said  Demosthenes,  "  there  is  a  great 
difference  between  the  things  that  you  and  I  do 
by  lamp-light."  So  as  no  man  need  doubt  that 
learning  will  expulse  business  ;  but  rather  it  will 
keep  and  defend  the  possession  of  the  mind 
against  idleness  and  pleasure,  which  otherwise 
at  unawares  may  enter,  to  the  prejudice  of  both. ' 

Again,  for  that  other  conceit,  that  learning 
should  undermine  the  reverence  of  laws  and 
government,  it  is  assuredly  a  mere  depravation 
and  calumny,  without  all  shadow  of  truth.  For 
to  say,  that  a  blind  custom  of  obedience  should 
be  a  surer  obligation  than  duty  taught  and  under 
stood  ;  it  is  to  affirm,  that  a  blind  man  may  tread 
surer  by  a  guide  than  a  seeing  man  can  by  a 
light.  And  it  is  without  all  controversy,  that 
learning  doth  make  the  minds  of  men  gentle, 
generous,  maniable,  and  pliant  to  government; 
whereas  ignorance  makes  them  churlish,  thwart 
ing,  and  mutinous ;  and  the  evidence  of  time 
doth  clear  this  assertion,  considering  that  the 
most  barbarous,  rude,  and  unlearned  times  have 
been  most  subject  to  tumults,  seditions,  and 
changes. 

And  as  to  the  judgment  of  Cato  the  Censor, 
he  was  well  punished  for  his  blasphemy  against 
learning  in  the  same  kind  wherein  he  offended  ; 
for  when  he  was  past  threescore  years  old,  he 
was  taken  with  an  extreme  desire  to  go  to  school 
again,  and  to  learn  the  Greek  tongue,  to  the  end 
to  peruse  the  Greek  authors  ;  which  doth  well  de 
monstrate,  that  his  former  censure  of  the  Grecian 
learning  was  rather  an  affected  gravity,  than  ac 
cording  to  the  inward  sense  of  his  own  opinion. 
And  as  for  Virgil's  verses,  though  it  pleased  him 
to  brave  tne  world  in  taking  to  the  Romans  the 


art  of  empire,  and  leaving  to  others  the  arts  of 
subjects ;  yet  so  much  is  manifest,  that  the  Ro 
mans  never  ascended  to  that  height  of  empire, 
till  the  time  they  had  ascended  to  the  height  of 
other  arts.  For  in  the  time  of  the  two  first  Cae 
sars,  which  had  the  art  of  government  in  greatest 
perfection,  there  lived  the  best  .poet,  Virgilius 
Maro ;  the  best  historiographer,  Titus  Livius  ; 
the  best  antiquary,  Marcus  Varro ;  and  the  best, 
or  second  orator,  Marcus  Cicero,  that  to  the  me 
mory  of  man  are  known.  As  for  the  accusation 
of  Socrates,  the  time  must  be  remembered  when 
it  was  prosecuted  ;  which  was  under  the  thirty 
tyrants,  the  most  base,  bloody,  and  envious  per 
sons  that  have  governed ;  which  revolutions  of 
state  was  no  sooner  over,  but  Socrates,  whom  they 
had  made  a  person  criminal,  was  made  a  person 
heroical,  and  his  memory  accumulate  with  honours 
divine  and  human ;  and  those  discourses  of  his, 
which  were  then  termed  corrupting  of  manners, 
were  afterwards  acknowledged  for  sovereign  me 
dicines  of  the  mind  and  manners,  and  so  have  been 
received  ever  since  till  this  day.  Let  this  there 
fore  serve  for  answer  to  politicians,  which  in  their 
humorous  severity,  or  in  their  feigned  gravity, 
have  presumed  to  throw  imputations  upon  learn 
ing  ;  which  redargution,  nevertheless,  (save  that 
we  know  not  whether  our  labours  may  extend  to 
other  ages,)  were  not  needful  for  the  present,  in 
regard  of  the  love  and  reverence  towards  learning, 
which  the  example  and  countenance  of  two  so 
learned  princes,  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  your  ma 
jesty,  being  as  Castor  and  Pollux,  "  lucida  side- 
ra,"  stars  of  excellent  light  and  most  benign 
influence,  hath  wrought  in  all  men  of  place  and 
authority  in  our  nation. 

,Now  therefore  we  come  to  that  third  sort  of  dis 
credit  or  diminution  of  credit,  that  groweth  unto 
learning  from  learned  men  themselves,  which 
commonly  cleaveth  fastest :  it  is  either  from  their 
fortune ;  or  from  their  manners ;  or  from  the 
nature  of  their  studies.  For  the  first,  it  is  not  in 
their  power ;  and  the  second  is  accidental ;  the 
third  only  is  proper  to  be  handled  :  but  because 
we  are  not  in  hand  with  true  measure,  but  with 
popular  estimation  and  conceit,  it  is  not  amiss  to 
speak  somewhat  of  the  two  former.  The.deroga- 
tions,  therefore,  which  grow  to  learning  from  the 
fortune  or  condition  of  learned  men,  are  either 
n  respect  of  scarcity  of  means,  or  in  respect  of 
privateness  of  life,  and  meanness  of  employ 
ments. 

Concerning  want,  and  that  it  is  the  case  of 
earned  men  usually  to  begin  with  little,  and  not 
to  grow  rich  so  fast  as  other  men,  by  reason  they 
convert  not  their  labours  chiefly  to  lucre  and  in 
crease  :  it  were  good  to  leave  the  commonplace 
n  commendation  of  poverty  to  some  friar  to 
landle,  to  whom  much  was  attributed  by  Machia- 
vel  in  this  point;  when  he  said,  "  That  the 
iingdom  of  the  clergy  had  been  long  before  at  an. 


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ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


167 


end,  if  the  reputation  and  reverence  towards  the 
poverty  of  friars  had  not  borne  out  the  scandal 
of  the  superfluities  and  excesses  of  bishops  and 
prelates."  So  a  man  might  say,  that  the  felicity 
and  delicacy  of  princes  and  great  persons  had  long 
since  turned  to  rudeness  and  barbarism,  if  the 
poverty  of  learning  had  not  kept  up  civility  and 
honour  of  life :  but  without  any  such  advantages, 
it  is  worthy  the  observation,  what  a  reverend  and 
honoured  thing  poverty  of  fortune  was,  for  some 
ages,  in  the  Roman  state,  which  nevertheless  was 
a  state  without  paradoxes  :  for  we  see  what  Titus 
Livius  saith  in  his  introduction  :  "  Caeterum  aut 
me  amor  negotii  suscepti  fallit  aut  nulla  unquam 
respublica  nee  major,  nee  sanctior,  nee  bonis  ex- 
emplis  ditior  fuit;  ncc  in  quam  tarn  serae  avaritia 
luxuriaque  immigraverint ;  nee  ubi  tantus  ac  tarn 
diu  paupertati  ac  parsimonies  honos  fuerit."  We 
see  likewise,  after  that  the  state  of  Rome  was  not 
itself,  but  did  degenerate,  how  that  person,  that 
took  upon  him  to  be  counsellor  to  Julius  Ceesar 
after  his  victory,  where  to  begin  his  restoration  of 
the  state,  maketh  it  of  all  points  the  most  sum 
mary  to  take  away  the  estimation  of  wealth  : 
"  Verum  haec,  et  omnia  mala  pariter  cum  honore 
pecuniae  desinent :  si  neque  magistratus,  neque 
alia  vulgo  cupiendia,  venalia  erunt."  To  con 
clude  this  point,  as  it  was  truly  said,  that  "  rubor 
estvirtutis  color,"  though  sometimes  it  come  from 
vice ;  so  it  may  be  fitly  said  that  "  paupertas  est 
virtutis  fortuna,"  though  sometimes  it  may  proceed 
from  misgovernment  and  accident.  Surely  Solo 
mon  hath  pronounced  it  both  in  censure,  "  Qui 
festinat  ad  divitias,  non  erit  insons  ;  and  in  pre 
cept  ;  "  Buy  the  truth,  and  sell  it  not ;"  and  so 
of  wisdom  and  knowledge  :  judging  that  means 
were  to  be  spent  upon  learning,  and  not  learning 
to  be  applied  to  means.  And  as  for  the  private- 
ness,  or  obscureness  (as  it  may  be  in  vulgar  esti 
mation  accounted)  of  life  of  contemplative  men  ; 
it  is  a  theme  so  common,  to  extol  a  private  life 
not  taxed  with  sensuality  and  sloth,  in  comparison 
and  to  the  disadvantage  of  a  civil  life,  for  safety, 
liberty,  pleasure,  and  dignity,  or  at  least  freedom 
from  indignity,  as  no  man  handleth  it,  buthandleth 
it  well  :  such  a  consonancy  it  hath  to  men's  con 
ceits  in  the  expressing,  and  to  men's  consents  in 
the  allowing.  This  only  I  will  add,  that  learned 
men  forgotten  in  states,  and  not  living  in  the  eyes 
of  men,  are  like  the  images  of  Cassius  and  Brutus 
in  the  funeral  of  Junia  :  of  which  not  being  repre 
sented,  as  many  others  were,  Tacitus  saith,  "  Eo 
ipso  prtcfulgebant,  quod  non  visebantur." 

And  for  meanness  of  employment,  that  which 
is  most  traduced  to  contempt  is  that  the  govern 
ment  of  youth  is  commonly  allotted  to  them ; 
which  age,  because  it  is  the  age  of  least  authority, 
it  is  transferred  to  the  disesteeming  of  those  em 
ployments  wherein  youth  is  conversant,  and  which 
are  conversant  about  youth.  But  how  unjust  this 
traducement  is  (if  you  will  reduce  things  from 


popularity  of  opinion  to  measure  of  reason)  may 
appear  in  that,  we  see  men  are  more  curious  what 
they  put  in  a  new  vessel,  than  into  a  vessel  sea 
soned  ;  and  what  mould  they  lay  about  a  young 
plant,  than  about  a  plant  corroborate;  so  as  the 
weakest  terms  and  times  of  all  things  use  to  have 
the  best  applications  and  helps.  And  will  you 
hearken  to  the  Hebrew  Rabbins "?  "  Your  young 
men  shall  see  visions,  and  your  old  men  shall 
dream  dreams ;"  say  the  youth  is  the  worthier  age, 
for  that  visions  are  nearer  apparitions  of  God  than 
dreams.  And  let  it  be  noted,  that  howsoever  the 
condition  of  life  of  pedants  hath  been  scorned  upon 
theatres,  as  the  ape  of  tyranny ;  and  that  the 
modern  looseness  or  negligence  hath  taken  no 
due  regard  to  the  choice  of  schoolmasters  and 
tutors  ;  yet  the  ancient  wisdom  of  the  best  times 
did  always  make  a  just  complaint,  that  states 
were  too  busy  with  their  laws,  and  too  negligent 
in  point  of  education  ;  which  excellent  part  of 
ancient  discipline  hath  been  in  some  sort  revived  of 
late  times  by  the  colleges  of  the  Jesuits  ;  of  whom, 
although  in  regard  of  their  superstition  I  may 
say,  "  quo  meliores,  eo  deteriores  ;"  yet  in  regard 
of  this,  and  some  other  points  concerning  human 
learning  and  moral  matters,  I  may  say,  as  Agesi- 
laus  said  to  his  enemy  Pharriabaus,  "  Talis  quum 
sis,  utinam  noster  esses."  And  thus  much  touch 
ing  the  discredits  drawn  from  the  fortunes  of 
learned  men. 

As  touching  the  manners  of  learned  men,  it  is  ,/ 
a  thing  personal  and  individual  :  and  no  doubt 
there  be  amongst  them,  as  in  other  professions, 
of  all  temperatures  :  but  yet  so  as  it  is  not  without 
truth,  which  is  said,  that  "  abeunt  studia  in  mo 
res,"  studies  have  an  influence  and  operation  upon 
the  manners  of  those  that  arc  conversant  in  them. 

But  upon  an  attentive  and  indifferent  review, 
I  for  my  part  cannot  find  any  disgrace  to  learning 
can  proceed  from  the  manners  of  learned  men  not 
inherent  to  them  as  they  are  learned  ;  except  it 
be  a  fault  (which  was  the  supposed  fault  of  De 
mosthenes,  Cicero,  Cato  the  Second,  Seneca,  and 
many  more)  that,  because  the  times  they  read  of 
are  commonly 'better  than  the  times  they  live  in, 
and  the  duties  taught  better  than  the  duties  prac 
tised,  they  contend  sometimes  too  far  to  bring 
things  to  perfection,  and  to  reduce  the  corruption 
of  manners  to  honesty  of  precepts,  or  examples 
of  too  great  height.  And  yet  hereof  they  have 
caveats  enough  in  their  own  walks.  For  Solon, 
when  he  was  asked  whether  he  had  given  his 
citizens  the  best  laws,  answered  wisely,  "  Yej 
of  such  as  they  would  receive:"  and  IMatn,  find 
ing  that  his  own  heart  could  not  agree  v.  ith  the 
corrupt  manners  of  his  country,  refused  to  bear 
place  or  office;  saying,  "That  a  man's  country 
was  to  be  used  as  his  parents  were,  that  is,  with 
humble  persuasions,  and  not  with  contestations." 
And  Caesar's  counsellor  put  in  the  same  caveat. 
"  Non  ad  vetera  instituta  revocans  quae  jampridein 


168 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  I. 


eorruptis  moribus  ludibrio  sunt :"  and  Cicero noteth 
this  error  directly  in  Cato  the  Second,  when  he 
writes  to  his  friend  Atticus  :  "Cato  op  time  sentit 
sed  nocet  interdum  reipublicas  ;  loquitur  enim 
tanquam  in  republica  Platonis,  non  tanquam  in 
fsece  Romuli."  And  the  same  Cicero  doth  ex 
cuse  and  expound  the  philosophers  for  going1  too 
far,  and  being  too  exact  in  their  prescripts,  when 
he  saith,  "Isti  ipsi  praeceptores  virtutis  et  magis- 
tri,  videnter  fines  officiorum  paulo  longius  quam 
natura  vellet  protulisse  ut  cum  ad  ultirniim  animo 
contendissemus,  ibi  tamen,  ubi  oportet,  consiste- 
remus  :"  and  yet  himself  might  have  said,  "  Mo- 
nitus  sum  minor  ipse  meis  :"  for  it  was  his  own 
fault,  though  not  in  so  extreme  a  degree. 

Another  fault  likewise  much  of  this  kind  hath 
been  incident  to  learned  men  ;  which  is,  that  they 
have  esteemed  the  preservation,  good,  and  honour 
of  their  countries  or  masters  before  their  own  for 
tunes  or  safeties.  For  so  saith  Demosthenes  unto 
the  Athenians :  "  If  it  please  you  to  note  it,  my 
counsels  unto  you  are  not  such  whereby  I  should 
grow  great  amongst  you,  and  you  become  little 
amongst  the  Grecians  :  but  they  be  of  that  nature, 
as  they  are  sometimes  not  good  for  me  to  give, 
but  are  always  good  for  you  to  follow."  And  so 
Seneca,  after  he  had  consecrated  that  Quinquen 
nium  Neronis  to  the  eternal  glory  of  learned  go 
vernors,  held  on  his  honest  and  loyal  course  of 
good  and  free  counsel,  after  his  master  grew  ex 
tremely  corrupt  in  his  government.  Neither  can 
this  point  otherwise  be ;  for  learning  endueth 
men's  minds  with  a  true  sense  of  the  frailty  of 
their  persons,  the  casualty  of  their  fortunes,  and 
the  dignity  of  their  soul  and  vocation  :  so  that  it 
is  impossible  for  them  to  esteem  that  any  greatness 
of  their  own  fortune  can  be  a  true  or  worthy  end 
of  their  being  and  ordainment  ;  and  therefore  are 
desirous  to  give  their  account  to  God,  and  so  like 
wise  to  their  masters  under  God  (as  kings  and  the 
states  that  they  serve)  in  these  words ;  "  Ecce  tibi 
lucrefeci,"  and  not  "  Ecce  mihi  lucrefeci ;"  where 
as  the  corrupter  sort  of  mere  politicians,  that  have 
not  their  thoughts  established  by  learning  in  the 
love. and  apprehension  of  duty,  nor  ever  look 
abroad  into  universality,  do  refer  all  things  to 
themselves,  and  thrust  themselves  into  the  centre 
of  the  world,  as  if  all  lines  should  meet  in  them 
and  their  fortunes  ;  never  caring,  in  all  tempests, 
what  becomes  of  the  ship  of  state,  so  they  may 
save  themselves  in  the  cockboat  of  their  own  for 
tune  :  whereas  men  that  feel  the  weight  of  duty, 
and  know  the  limits  of  self-love,  use  to  make  good 
their  places  and  duties,  though  with  peril  ;  and 
if  they  stand  in  seditions  and  violent  alterations, 
it  is  rather  the  reverence  which  many  times  both 
adverse  parts  do  give  to  honesty,  than  any  versa- 
lile  advantage i  of  their  own  carriage.  But  fqr 
ihis  point  of  tender  sense,  and  fast  obligation $f 
»iuty  which  learning  doth  endue  the  mind  withal, 
howsoever  fortune  may  tax  it.  and  many  in  the 


depth  of  their  corrupt  principles  may  despise  it, 
yet  it  will  receive  an  open  allowance,  and  there 
fore,  needs  the  less  disproof  or  excusation. 

Another  fault  incident  commonly  to  learned 
men,  which  may  be  more  probably  defended  than 
truly  denied,  is,  that  they  fail  sometimes  in  apply 
ing  themselves  to  particular  persons/  which  want 
of  exact  application  ariseth  from  two  causes  :  the 
one,  because  the  largeness  of  their  mind  can  hardly 
confine  itself  to  dwell  in  the  exquisite  observa 
tion  or  examination  of  the  nature  and  customs  of 
one  person  :  for  it  is  a  speech  for  a  lover,  and  not 
for  a  wise  man :  "  Satus  magnum  alter  alteri 
theatrum  sumus."  Nevertheless  I  shall  yield, 
that  he  that  cannot  contract  the  sight  of  his  mind, 
as  well  as  disperse  and  dilate  it,  wanteth  a  great 
faculty.  But  there  is  a  second  cause,  which  is 
no  inability-,  but  a  rejection  upon  choice  and  judg 
ment  ;  for  the  honest  and  just  bounds  of  observa 
tion,  by  one  person  upon  another,  extend  no 
farther  but  to  understand  him  sufficiently,  whereby 
not  to  give  him  offence,  or  whereby  to  be  able  to 

ive  him  faithful  counsel,  or  whereby  to  stand  upon 
reasonable  guard  and  caution  in  respect  of  a  m,an's 
self:  but  to  be  speculative  into  another  man,  to 
the  end  to  know  how  to  work  him  or  wind  him  or 
•overn  him,  proceedeth  from  a  heart  that  is  double 
and  cloven,  and  not  entire  and  ingenuous  ;  which 
as  in  friendship  it  is  want  of  integrity,  so  tow.ards 
irinces  or  superiors  is  want  of  duty.  For  the 
custom  of  the  Levant,  which  is,  that  subjects  do 
:brbear  to  gaze  or  fix  their  eyes  upon  princes^  is  in 
the  outward  ceremony  barbarous,  but  the  moral  is 
good;  for  men  ought  not  by  cunning  and  bent  ob 
servations  to  pierce  and  penetrate  into  the  hearts 
of  kings,  which  the  Scripture  hath  declared  to  be 
nscrutable. 

There  is  yet  another  fault  (with  which  J  will 
conclude  this  part)  which  is  often  noted  in  learn 
ed  men,  that  they  do  many  times  fail  to  observe 
decency  and  discretion  in  their  behaviour  and 
carriage,  and  commit  errors  in  small  and  ordinary 
joints  of  action,  so  as  the  vulgar  sort  of  capacities 
do  make  a  judgment  of  them  in  greater  matters 
by  that  which  they  find  wanting  in  them  in  smaller. 
But  this  consequence  doth  often  deceive  men,  for 
which  I  do  refer  them  over  to  that  which  was  said 
y  Themistocles,  arrogantly  and  uncivilly  being 
applied  to  himself  out  of  his  own  mouth;  but, 
being  applied  to  the  general  state  of  this  question, 
)ertinently  and  justly  ;  when  being  invited  to 
touch  a  lute,  he  said,  "  he  could  not  fiddle,  but 
le  could  make  a  small  town  a  great  state."  So, 
no  doubt,  many  may  be  well  seen  in  the  passages 
of  government  and  policy,  which  are  to  seek  in 
ittle  and  punctual  occasions.  I  refer  them  also 
o  that  which  Plato  said  of  his  master  Socrates. 
whom  he  compared  to  the  gallipots  of  apotheca 
ries,  which  on  the  outside  had  apes,  and  owls, 
nd  antiques,  but  contained  within  sovereign  and 
precious  liquors  and  confections  ;  acknowledging 


BOOK  I. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


169 


that  to  an  external  report  he  was  not  without  su 
perficial  levities  and  deformities,  but  was  inwardly 
replenished  with  excellent  virtues  and  powers. 
And  so  much  touching  the  point  of  manners  of 
learned  men. 

But  in  the  mean  time  I  have  no  purpose  to  give 
allowance  to  some  conditions  and  courses  base 
and  unworthy,  wherein  divers  professors  of  learn 
ing  have  wronged  themselves,  and  gone  too  far ; 
such  as  were  those  trencher  philosophers,  which 
in  the  later  age  of  the  Roman  state  were  usually 
in  the  houses  of  great  persons,  being  little  better 
than  solemn  parasites  ;  of  which  kind  Lucian 
maketh  a  merry  description  of  the  philosopher 
that  the  great  lady  took  to  ride  with,  her  in  her 
coach,  and  would  needs  have  him  carry  her  little 
dog,  which  he  doing  officiously  and  yet  uncomely, 
the  page  scoffed,  and  said,  "  That  he  doubted,  the 
philosopher  of  a  Stoic  would  turn  to  be  a  Cynic." 
But  above  all  the  rest,  the  gross  and  palpable 
flattery,  whereunto  many  not  unlearned  have 
abased  and  abused  their  wits  and  pens,  turning, 
as  Du  Bartas  saith,  Hecuba  into  Helena,  and 
Faustina  into  Lucretia,  hath  most  diminished  the 
price  and  estimation  of  learning.  Neither  is  the 
modern  dedication  of  books  and  writings,  as  to 
patrons,  to  be  commended  :  for  that  books,  such 
as  are  worthy  the  name  of  books,  ought  to  have 
no  patrons  but  truth  and  reason.  And  the  an 
cient  custom  was  to  dedicate  them  only  to  private 
and  equal  friends,  or  to  entitle  the  books  with 
their  names ;  or  if  to  kings  and  great  persons,  it 
was  to  some  such  as  the  argument  of  the  book 
was  fit  and  proper  for;  but  these  and  the  like 
courses  may  deserve  rather  reprehension  than  de 
fence.  X* 

No/that  I  can  tax  or  condemn  the  morigeration 
or  application  of  learned  men  to  men  in  fortune. 
For  the  answer  was  good  that  Diogenes  made  to 
one  that  asked  him  in  mockery,  "  How  it  came  to 
pass  that  philosophers  were  the  followers  of  rich 
men,  and  not  rich  men  of  philosophers  V  He 
answered  soberly,  and  yet  sharply,  "  Because  the 
one  sort  knew  what  -they  had  need  of,  and  the 
other  did  not."  And  of  the  like  nature  was  the 
answer  which  Aristippus  made,  when  having  a 
petition  to  Dionysius,  and  no  ear  given  to  him, 
he  fell  down  at  his  feet ;  whereupon  Dionysius 
stayed,  and  gave  him  the  hearing,  and  granted  it; 
and  afterward  some  person,  tender  on  the  behalf 
of  philosophy,  reproved  Aristippus,  that  he  would 
offer  the  profession  of  philosophy  such  an  indig 
nity  as  for  a  private  suit  to  fall  at  a  tyrant's  feet : 
but  he  answered,  "  It  was  not  his  fault,  but  it 
was  the  fault  of  Dionysius,  that  had  his  ears  in 
his  feet."  Neither  was  it  accounted  weakness, 
but  discretion  in  him  that  would  not  dispute  his 
best  with  Adrianus  Ceesar ;  excusing  himself, 
"  That  it  was  reason  to  yield  to  him  that  com 
manded  thirty  legions."  These  and  the  like 
applications,  and  stooping  to  points  of  necessity 

VOL.  I.— 22 


and  convenience,  cannot  be  disallowed  ;  foi 
though  they  may  have  some  outward  baseness, 
yet  in  a  judgment  truly  made,  they  are  to  be  ac 
counted  submissions  to  the  occasion,  and  not  to 
the  person. 

Now  I  proceed  to  those  errors  and  vanities 
which  have  intervened  amongst  the  studies  them 
selves  of  the  learned,  which  is  that  which  is 
principal  and  proper  to  the  present  argument; 
wherein  my  purpose  is  not  to  make  a  justification 
of  the  errors,  but,  by  a  censure  and  separation  of 
the  errors,  to  make  a  justification  of  that  which  is 
good  and  sound,  and  to  deliver  that  from  the  as 
persion  of  the  other.  For  we  see,  that  it  is  the 
manner  of  men  to  scandalize  and  deprave  that 
which  retaineth  the  state  and  virtue,  by  taking 
advantage  upon  that  which  is  corrupt  and  degene 
rate  :  as  the  heathens  in  the  primitive  church  used 
to  blemish  and  taint  the  Christians  with  the  faults 
and  corruptions  of  heretics.  But  nevertheless  I 
have  no  meaning  at  this  time  to  make  any  exact 
animadversion  of  the  errors  and  impediments  in 
matters  of  learning,  which  are  more  secret  and 
remote  from  vulgar  opinion,  but  only  to  speak 
unto  such  as  do  fall  under  or  near  unto  a  popular 
observation. 

There  be  therefore  chiefly  three  vanities  in 
studies,  whereby  learning  hath  been  most  tra 
duced.  For  those  things  we  do  esteem  vain, 
which  are  either  false  or  frivolous,  those  which 
either  have  no  truth,  or  no  use  :  and  those  persons 
we  esteem  vain,  which  are  either  credulous  or 
curious ;  and  curiosity  is  either  in  matter  or  words ; 
so  that  in  reason  as  well  as  in  experience,  there 
fall  out  to  be  these  three  distempers,  as  I  may 
term  them,  of  learning;  the  first,  fantastical  learn 
ing;  the  second,  contentious  learning;  and  the 
last,  delicate  learning;  vain  imaginations,  vain 
altercations,  and  vain  affectations  ;  and  with  the 
last  I  will  begin.  Martin  Luther,  conducted  no 
doubt  by  a  higher  Providence,  but  in  discourse 
of  reason,  finding  what  a  province  he  had  under 
taken  against  the  Bishop  of  Rome  and  the  degene 
rate  traditions  of  the  church,  and  finding  his  own 
solitude  being  noways  aided  by  the  opinions  of 
his  own  time,  was  enforced  to  awake  all  antiquity, 
and  to  call  former  times  to  his  succour,  to  make  a 
party  against  the  present  time.  So  that  the  an 
cient  authors,  both  in  divinity  and  in  humanity, 
which  had  long  time  slept  in  libraries,  began 
generally  to  be  read  and  revolved.  This  by 
consequence  did  draw  on  a  necessity  of  a  more 
exquisite  travail  in  the  languages  original,  where 
in  those  authors  did  write,  for  the  better  under 
standing  of  those  authors,  and  the  better  advan 
tage  of  pressing  and  applying  their  words.  And 
thereof  grew  again  a  delight  in  their  manner  of 
style  and  phrase,  and  an  admiration  of  that  kind 
of  writing;  which  was  much  furthered  and  preci 
pitated  -by  the  enmity  and  opposition  that  the 
j  propounders  of  those  primitive,  but  seeming  new 
P 


170 


ADVANCEMENT  ©F  LEARNING. 


BOOK  I. 


opinions,  had  against  the  schoolmen ;  who  were 
generally  of  the  contrary  part,  and  whose  writings 
were  altogether  in  a  differing  style  and  form  ;  tak 
ing  liberty  to  coin  and  frame  new  terms  of  art  to 
express  their  own  sense,  and  to  avoid  circuit  of 
speech,  without  regard  to  the  pureness,  pleasant 
ness,  and,  as  I  may  call  it,  lawfulness  of  {he 
phrase  or  word.  And  again,  because  the  great 
labour  that  then  was  with  the  people,  (of  whom 
the  Pharisees  were  wont  to  say,  "  Execrabilisista 
turba,  quae  non  novit  legem,")  for  the  winning 
and  persuading  of  them,  there  grew  of  necessity  in 
chief  price  and  request  eloquence  and  variety  of 
discourse,  as  the  fittest  and  forciblest  access  into 
the  capacity  of  the  vulgar  sort :  so  that  these  four 
causes  concurring,  the  admiration  of  ancient  au 
thors,  the  hate  of  the  schoolmen,  the  exact  study 
of  languages,  and  the  efficacy  of  preaching,  did 
bring  in  an  affectionate  study  of  eloquence  and 
"  copia"  of  speech,  which  then  began  to  fiourish. 
This  grew  speedily  to  an  excess  ;  for  men  began 
to  hunt  more  after  words  than  matter  ;  and  more 
after  the  choiceness  of  the  phrase,  and  the  round 
and  clean  composition  of  the  sentence,  and  the 
sweet  falling  of  the  clauses,  and  the  varying  and 
illustration  of  their  works  with  tropes  and  figures, 
than  after  the  weight  x>f  matter,  worth  of  subject, 
soundness  of  argument,  life  of  invention  or  depth 
of  judgment.  Then  grew  the  flowing  and  watery 
vein  of  Osorius,  the  Portugal  bishop,  to  be  in  price. 
Then  did  Sturmius  spend  such  infinite  and  curious 
pains  upon  Cicero  the  orator,  and  Hermogenes  the 
rhetorician,  besides  bis  own  books  of  periods,  and 
imitation,  and  the  like.  Then  did  Car  of  Cam 
bridge,  and  Ascham,  with  their  lectures  and  writ 
ings,  almost  deify  Cicero  and  Demosthenes,  and 
allure  all  young  men,  that  were  studious,  unto  that 
delicate  and  polished  kind  of  learning.  Then  did 
Erasmus  take  occasion  to  make  the  scoffing  echo ; 
*'  Decem  annos  consumpsi  in  legendo  Cicerone  ;" 
and  the  echo  answered  in  Greek,  "Oi<£,  "  Asine." 
Then  grew  the  learning  of  the  schoolmen  to  be 
utterly  despised  as  barbarous.  In  sum,  the  whole 
inclination  and  bent  of  those  times  was  rather  to 
wards  "copia"  than  weight. 

Here,  therefore,  is  the  first  distemper  of  learning, 
when  men  study  words  and  not  matter :  whereof 
though  I  have  represented  an  example  of  late  times, 
yet  it  hath  been,  and  will  be  "  secundum  majus  et 
minus"  in  all  time.  And  how  is  it  possible  but  this 
should  have  an  operation  to  discredit  learning,  even 
with  vulgar  capacities,  when  they  see  learned 
men's  works  like  the  first  letter  of  a  patent  or 
.mined  book  :  which  though  it  hath  large  flou 
rishes,  y«H  it  is  but  a  letter'?  It  seems  to  me  that 
Pygmalion's  frenzy  is  a  good  emblem  or  por 
traiture  of  this  vanity  :  for  words  are  but  the 
images  of  matter ;  and  except  they  have  life  of 
reason  and  invention,  to  fall  in  love  with  them  is 
all  one  as  to  fall  in  love  with  a  picture. 

But  yet,   notwithstanding,  it  is  a  thing  not 


hastily  to  be  condemned,  to  clothe  and  adorn  the 
obscurity,  even  of  philosophy  itself,  with  sensible 
and  plausible  elocution  ;  for  hereof  we  have  great 
examples  in  Xenophon,  Cicero,  Seneca,  Plutarch, 
and  of  Plato  also  in  some  degree  :  and  hereof, 
likewise,  there  is  great  use :  for  surely,  to  the  se 
vere  inquisition  of  truth,  and  the  deep  progress 
into  philosophy,  it  is  some  hinderance  ;  because 
it  is  too  early  satisfactory  to  the  mind  of  man,  and 
quencheth  the  desire  of  further  search,  before  we 
come  to  a  just  period  :  but  then  if  a  man  be  to 
have  any  use  of  such  knowledge  in  civil  occasions, 
of  conference,  counsel,  persuasion,  discourse,  or 
the  like;  then  shall  he  find  it  prepared  to  his 
hands  in  those  authors  which  write  in  that  manner. 
But  the  excess  of  this  is  so  justly  contemptible, 
that  as  Hercules,  when  he.  saw  the  image  of 
Adonis,  Venus's  minion,  in  a  temple,  said  in  dis 
dain,  "  Nil  sacri  es ;"  so  there  is  none  of  Hercules's 
followers  in  learning,  that  is,  the  more  severe  and 
laborious  sort  of  inquirers  into  truth,  but  will 
despise  those  delicacies  and  affectations,  as  indeed 
capable  of  no  divineness.  And  thus  much  of  the 
first  disease  or  distemper  of  learning. 

The  second,  which  followeth,  is  in  nature  worse 
than  the  former  :  for  as  substance  of  matter  is 
better  than  beauty  of  words,  so,  contrariwise,  vain 
matter  is  worse  than  vain  words :  wherein  it 
seemeth  the  reprehension  of  St.  Paul  was  not  only 
proper  for  those  times,  but  prophetical  for  the  times 
following;  and  not  only  respective  to  divinity,  but 
extensive  to  all  knowledge  :  "  Devita  profanas 
vocum  novitates,  et  oppositiones  falsi  nominis 
scientice."  For  he  assigncth  two  marks  and 
badges  of  suspected  and  falsified  science  :  the  one, 
the  novelty  and  strangeness  of  terms  ;  tho/other, 
the  strictness  of  positions,  which  of  necessity  doth 
induce  oppositions,  and  so  questions  and  alterca 
tions.  Surely,  like  as  many  substances  in  nature, 
which  are  solid  do  putrefy  and  corrupt  into 
worms  ;  so  it  is  the  property  of  good  and  sound 
knowledge,  to  putrefy  and  dissolve  into  a  number 
of  subtle,  idle,  unwholesome,  and,  as  I  may  term 
them,  vermiculate  questions,  which  have  indeed  a 
kind  of  quickness,  and  life  of  spirit,  but  no  sound 
ness  of  matter,  or  goodness  of  quality.  This  kind 
of  degenerate  learning  did  chiefly  reign  amongst 
the  schoolmen;  who  having  sharp  and  strong 
wits,  and  abundance  of  leisure,  and  small  variety 
of  reading,  (but  their  wits  being  shut  up  in  the 
cells  of  a  few  authors,  chiefly  Aristotle  their  dic 
tator,  as  their  persons  were  shut  up  in  the  cells 
of  monasteries  and  colleges,)  and  knowing  little 
history,  either  of  nature  or  time,  did  out  of  no 
great  quantity  of  matter,  and  infinite  agitation  of 
wit,  spin  out  unto  us  those  laborious  webs  of 
learning,  which  are  extant  in  their  books.  For 
the  wit  and  mind  of  man,  if  it  work  upon  matter, 
which  is  the  contemplation  of  the  creatures  of  God, 
worketh  according  to  the  stuff,  and  is  limited 
thereby ;  but  if  it  work  upon  itself,  as  the  spider 


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171 


worketh  his  web,  then  it  is  endless  and  brings  forth 
indeed  cobwebs  of  learning,  admirable  for  the  fine 
ness  of  thread  and  work,  but  of  no  substance  or 
profit. 

This  same  unprofitable  sub  til  ty  or  curiosity  is 
of  two  sorts  ;  either  in  the  subject  itself  that  they 
handle,  when  it  is  a  fruitless  speculation  or  con 
troversy,  whereof  there  are  no  small  number  both 
in  divinity  and  philosophy,  or  in  the  manner  or 
method  of  handling  of  a  knowledge,  which 
amongst  them  was  this  ;  upon  every  particular 
position  or  assertion  to  frame  objections,  and  to 
those  objections,  solutions  ;  which  solutions 
were  for  the  most  part  not  confutations  but  dis 
tinctions  ;  whereas  indeed  the  strength  of  all 
sciences  is,  as  the  strength  of  the  old  man's  fag 
got,  in  the  band.  For  the  harmony  of  a  science, 
supporting  each  part  the  other,  is  and  ought  to  be 
the  true  and  brief  confutation  and  suppression  of 
all  the  smaller  sort  of  objections.  But,  on  the 
other  side,  if  you  take  out  every  axiom,  as  the 
sticks  of  the  faggot,  one  by  one,  you  may  quarrel 
with  them,  and  bend  them',  and  break  them  at 
your  pleasure  :  so  that,  as  was  said  of  Seneca, 
"  Vcrborum  minutiis  rerum  frangit  pondera  ;"  so 
a  man  may  truly  say  of  the  schoolmen,  "  Quaes- 
tionum  minutiis,  scientiarem  frangunt  solidita- 
tern."  For  were  it  not  better  for  a  man  in  a  fair 
room  to  set  up  one  great  light,  or  branching  can 
dlestick  of  lights,  than  to  go  about  with  a  small 
watch  candle  into  every  corner  ?  And  such  is  their 
method,  that  rests  not  so  much  upon  evidence  of 
truth  proved  by  arguments,  authorities,  simili 
tudes,  examples,  as  upon  particular  confutations 
^and  solutions  of  every  scruple,  cavillation,  and 
objection ;  breeding  for  the  most  part  one  question 
as  fast  as  itsolveth  another  ;  even  as  in  the  former 
resemblance,  when  you  carry  the  light  into  one 
corner,  you  darken  the  rest :  so  that  the  fable  and 
fiction  of  Scylla  seemeth  to  be  a  lively  image  of 
this  kind  of  philosophy  or  knowledge  :  who  was 
transformed  into  a  comely  virgin  for  the  uppe 
parts  :  but  then  "  Candida  succinctarnlatrantibus 
in<.raina  monstris :"  so  the  generalities  of  the 
schoolmen  are  for  a  while  good  and  proportion- 
ablo;  but  then,  when  you  descend  into  their  dis 
tinctions  and  decisions,  instead  of  a  fruitful  womb, 
for  the  use  and  benefit  of  man's  life,  they  end  in 
monstrous  altercations  and  barking  questions.  So 
as  it  is  not  possible  but  this  quality  of  knowledge 
nrjjst  Ml  under  popular  contempt,  the  people  bein 
apt  to  contemn  truth  .upon  occasion  of  controver 
sies  und  altercations,  and  to  think  they  are  all  out 

of  their  way  which  never  meet  :  and  when  they    wives'  fables,  impostures  of  the  clergy 
see  such  digladiation  about  subtilties,  and  mat 
ters  of  no  use  or  moment,  they  easily  fall  upon 
that  judgment  of  Dionysius  of  Syracuse,  "Verba 
ista  s,unt  senuin  otiosorum." 

Notwithstanding,  certain  it  is  that  if  those 
schoolmen,  to  their  great  thirst  of  truth  and  un 
wearied  travail  of  wit,  had  joined  variety  and 


universality  of  reading  and  contemplation,  they 
had  proved  excellent  lights,  to  the  great  advance 
ment  of  all  learning  and  knowledge ;  but  as  they 
are,  they  are  great  undertakers  indeed,  and  fierce 
with  dark  keeping  :  but  as  in  the  inquiry  of  the 
divine  truth,  their  pride  inclined  to  leave  the 
oracle  of  God's  word,  and  to  vanish  in  the  mixture 
of  their  own  inventions  ;  so  in  the  inquisition  of 
nature,  they  ever  left  the  oracle  of  God's  works, 
and  adored  the  deceiving  and  deformed  images, 
which  the  unequal  mirror  of  their  own  minds,  or 
a  few  received  authors  or  principles,  did  repre 
sent  unto  them.  And  thus  much  for  the  second 
disease  of  learning. 

For  the  third  vice  or  disease  of  learning,  which 
concernetli  deceit  or  untruth,  it  is  of  all  the  rest 
the  foulest;  as  that  which  doth  destroy  the  essen 
tial  form  of  knowledge,  which  is  nothing  but  a 
representation  of  truth  :  for  the  truth  of  being 
and  the  truth  of  knowing  are  one,  differing  no 
more  than  the  direct  beam  and  the  beam, reflected. 
This  vice  therefore  brancheth  itself  into  two  sorts ; 
d-elight  in  deceiving,  and  aptness  to  be  deceived ; 
imposture  and  credulity  ;  which,  although  they 
appear  to  be  of  a  diverse  nature,  the  one  seeming 
to  proceed  of  cunning,  and  the  other  of  simplicity, 
yet  certainly  they  do  for  the  most  part  concur  :  for 
as  the  verse  noteth, 

"  Percontatorem  fugito,  nam  garrulus  idem  est;" 
an  inquisitive  man  is  a  prattler ;  so,  upon  the  like 
reason,  a  credulous  man  is  a  deceiver  :  as  we  see 
it  in  fame,  that  he  that  will  easily  believe  rumours, 
will  as  easily  augment  rumours,  and  add  some- 
wha.t  to  them  of  his  own  :  which  Tacitus  wisely 
noteth,  when  he  saith,  "Fingunt  simul  credunt- 
que  :"  so  great  an  affinity  hath  fiction  and  belief. 

This  facility  of  credit,  and  accepting  or  admit 
ting  things  weakly  authorized  or  warranted,  is  of 
two  kinds,  according  to  the  subject :  for  it  is  either 
a  belief  of  history,  cr,  as  the  lawyers  speak,  mat 
ter  of  fact;  or  else  of  matter  of  art  and  opinion. 
As  to  the  former,  we  see  the  experience  and  incon 
venience  of  this  error  in  ecclesiastical  history ; 
which  hath  too  easily  received  and  registered  re 
ports  and  narrations  of  miracles  wrought  by  mar 
tyrs,  hermits,  or  monks  of  the  desert,  and  other 
holy  men,  and  their  relics,  shrines,  chapels,  and 
images:  which  though  they  had  a  passage  for  a 
time,  by  the  ignorance  of  the  people,  the  supersti 
tious  simplicity  of  some,  and  the  politic  toleration 
of  others,  holding  them  but  as  divine  poesies  ;  yet 
after  a  period  of  time,  when  the  mist  began  to 
clear  up,  they  grew  to  be  esteemed  but  as  old 

illusions 

of  spirits,  and  badges  of  antichrist,  to  the  great 
scandal   and  detriment  of  religion. 

So  in  natural  history,  we  see  there  hath  not 
been  that  choice  and  judgment  used  as  ought  to 
have  been ;  as  may  appear  in  the  writings  of 
Plinius,  Cardanus,  Albertus,  and  divers  of  the 
Arabians,  being  fraught  with  much  fabulous 


172 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  I. 


matter,  a  great  part  not  only  untried;  but  noto 
riously  untrue,  to  the  great  derogation  of  the  credit 
of  natural  philosophy  with  the  grave  and  sober 
kinds  of  wits  :  wherein  the  wisdom  and  integrity 
of  Aristotle  is  worthy  to  be  observed  :  that,  having 
made  so  diligent  and  exquisite  a  history  of  living 
creatures,  hath  mingled  it  sparingly  with  any  vain 
or  feigned  matter ;  and  yet,  on  the  other  side,  hath 
cast  all  prodigious  narrations,  which  he\  thought 
worthy  the  recording,  into  one  book  ;  excellently 
discerning  that  matter  of  manifest  truth,  (such, 
whereupon  observation  and  rule  were  to  be  built,) 
was  not  to  be  mingled  or  weakened  with  matter  of 
doubtful  credit;  and  yet  again,  that  rarities  and 
reports  that  seem  incredible  are  not  to  be  sup 
pressed  or  denied  to  the  memory  of  men. 

And  as  for  the  facility  of  credit  which  is  yield 
ed  to  arts  and  opinions,  it  is  likewise  of  two  kinds ; 
either  when  too  much  belief  is  attributed  to  the 
arts  themselves,  or  to  certain  authors  in  any  art. 
The  sciences  themselves,  which  have  had  better 
intelligence  and  confederacy  with  the  imagination 
of  man  than  with  his  reason,  arc  three  in  number; 
astrology,  natural  magic,  and  alchymy  ;  of  which 
sciences,  nevertheless,  the  ends  or  pretences  are 
noble.  For  astrology  pretendeth  to  discover  that 
correspondence  or  concatenation,  which  is  be 
tween  the  superior  globe  and  the  inferior  :  natural 
magic  pretendeth  to  call  and  reduce  natural  phi 
losophy  from  variety  of  speculations  to  the  mag 
nitude  of  works  :  and  alchymy  pretendeth  to  make 
separation  of  all  the  unlike  parts  of  bodies,  which 
in  mixtures  of  nature  are  incorporate.  But  the 
derivations  and  prosecutions  to  these  ends,  both 
in  the  theories  and  in  the  practices,  are  full  of 
error  and  vanity ;  which  the  great  professors 
themselves  have  sought  to  veil  over  and  conceal 
by  enigmatical  writings,  and  refering  themselves 
to  auricular  traditions  and  such  other  devices,  to 
save  the  credit  of  impostures  ;  and  yet  surely  to 
alchymy  this  right  is  due,  that  it  may  be  compared 
to  the  husbandman  whereof  -/Esop  makes  the 
fable  ;  that,  when  he  died,  told  his  sons,  that  he- 
had  left  unto  them  gold  buried  under  ground  in 
his  vineyard  ;  and  they  digged  over  all  the  ground, 
and  gold  they  found  none ;  but  by  reason  of  their 
stirring  and  digging  the  mould  about  the  roots  of 
their  vines,  they  had  a  great  vintage  the  year  fol 
lowing  ;  so  assuredly  the  search  and  stir  to  make 
gold  hath  brought  to  light  a  great  number  of  good 
and  fruitful  inventions  and  experiments,  as  well 
for  the  disclosing  of  nature,  as  for  the  use  of  man's 
life. 

And  as  for  the  over  much  credit  that  hath  been 
given  unto  authors  in  sciences,  in  making  them 
dictators,  that  their  words  should  stand,  and  not 
consuls,  to  give  advice  ;  the  damage  is  infinite 
that  sciences  have  received  thereby,  as  the  princi 
pal  cause  that  hath  kept  them  low,  at  a  stay,  with 
out  growth  or  advancement.  For  hence  it  hath 
come,  that  in  arts  mechanical  the  first  deviser 


comes  shortest,  and  time  addeth  and  perfecteth  : 
but  in  sciences  the  first  author  goeth  farthest, 
and  time  leaseth  and  corrupteth.  So,  we  see, 
artillery,  sailing,  printing,  and  the  like,  were 
grossly  managed  at  the  first,  and  by  time  accommo 
dated  and  refined  :  but  contrariwise,  the  philoso 
phies  and  sciences  of  Aristotle,  Plato,  Democritus, 
Hippocrates,  Euclides,  Archimedes,  of  mostvigour 
at  the  first,  and  by  time  degenerate  and  embased  ; 
whereof  the  reason  is  no  other,  but  that  in  the 
former  many  wits  and  industries  have  contributed 
in  one  ;  and  in  the  latter  many  wits  and  industries 
have  been  spent  about  the  wit  of  some  one,  whom 
many  times  they  have  rather  depraved  than  illus 
trated.  For  as  water  will  not  ascend  higher  than 
the  level  of  the  first  spring-head  from  whence  it 
descendeth,  so  knowledge  derived  from  Aristotle, 
and  exempted  from  liberty  of  examination,  will 
not  rise  again  higher  than  the  knowledge  of  Aris 
totle.  And  therefore,  although  the  position  be 
good,  "  Oportet  discentem  credere,"  yet  it  must 
be  coupled  with  this,  "Oportet  edoctum  judi- 
care  ;"  for  disciples  do  owe  unto  their  masters 
only  a  temporary  belief,  and  a  suspension  of  theii 
own  judgment  until  they  be  fully  instructed,  and 
not  an  absolute  resignation,  or  perpetual  captivity  : 
and  therefore,  to  conclude  this  point,  J  will  say 
no  more,  but  so  let  great  authors  have  their  due, 
as  time,  which  is  the  author  of  authors,  be  not 
deprived  of  his  due,  which  is,  further  and  further 
to  discover  truth. 

Thus  have  I  gone  over  these  three  diseases  of 
learning  ;  besides  the  which,  there  are  some  other 
rather  peccant  humours  than  formed  diseases  ; 
which  nevertheless  are  not  so  secret  and  intrinsic, 
but  that  they  fall  under  a  popular  observation  and 
traducement,  and  are  therefore  not  to  be  passed 
over. 

The  first  of  these  is  the  extreme  affecting  of 
two  extremities ;  the  one  antiquity,  the  other 
novel \.y  :  wherein  it  seemeth  the  children  of  time 
do  take  after  the  nature  and  malice  of  the  father. 
For  as  he  devoureth  his  children,  so  one  of  them 
seeketh  to  devour  and  suppress  the  other  ;  while 
antiquity  envieth  there  should  be  new  additions, 
and  novelty  cannot  be  content  to  add,  but  it  must 
deface :  surely,  the  advice  of  the  prophet  is  the 
true  direction  in  this  matter,  "  State  super  vias 
antiquas,  et  videte  qusenam  sit  via  recta  et  bona, 
et  ambulate  in  ea."  Antiquity  deserveth  that 
reverence,  that  men  should  make  a  stand  there 
upon,  and  discover  what  is  the  best  way  ;  but 
when  the  discovery  is  well  taken,  then  to  make 
progression.  And  to  speak  truly,  ';  Antiquitas 
sseculi  juventus  mundi."  These  times  are  the 
ancient  times,  when  the  world  is  ancient,  and 
I  not  those  which  we  account  ancient  "  ordine  re- 
trogrado,"  by  a  computation  backwards  from  our 
selves. 

Another  error,  induced  by  the  former,  is  a  dis 
trust  that  any  thing  should  be  now  to  be  founrl 


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ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


173 


out,  which  the  world  should  have  missed  and 
passed  over,  so  long  time  ;  as  if  the  same  objec 
tion  were  to  be  made  to  time  that  Lucian  maketh 
to  Jupiter  and  other  the  heathen  gods  ;  of  which 
he  wondereth  that  they  begot  so  many  children  in 
old  time,  and  begot  none  in  his  time;  and  asketh 
whether  they  were  become  septuagenary,  or 
whether  the  law  Papia,  made  against  old  men's 
marriages,  had  restrained  them.  So  it  seemeth 
men  doubt  lest  time  is  become  past  children  and 
generation;  wherein,  contrariwise,  we  see  com 
monly  the  levity  and  inconstancy  of  men's  judg 
ments,  which,  till  a  matter  be  done,  wonder  that 
it  can  be  done ;  and,  as  soon  as  it  is  done,  wonder 
again  that  it  was  no  sooner  done  :  as  we  see  in 
the  expedition  of  Alexander  into  Asia,  which  at 
first  was  prejudged  as  a  vast  and  impossible  en 
terprise  :  and  yet  afterwards  it  pleaseth  Livy  to 
make  no  more  of  it  than  this  :  "  Nil  aliud,  quam 
bene  ausus  est  vana  contemnere  :"  and  the  same 
happened  to  Columbus  in  the  western  navigation. 
But  in  intellectual  matters  it  is  much  more  com 
mon  ;  as  may  be  seen  in  most  of  the  propositions 
of  Euclid  ;  which,  till  they  be  demonstrate,  they 
seem  strange  to  our  assent;  but  being  demon 
strate,  our  mind  accepteth  of  them  by  a  kind  of 
relation,  (as  the  lawyers  speak,)  as  if  we  had 
known  them  before. 

Another  error,  that  hath  also  some  affinity  with 
the  former,  is  a  conceit  that  of  former  opinions  or 
sects,  after  variety  and  examination,  the  best  hath 
still  prevailed,  and  suppressed  the  rest;  so  as,  if 
a  man  should  begin  the  labour  of  a  new  search, 
he  were  but  like  to  light  upon  somewhat  formerly 
rejected,  and  by  rejection  brought  into  oblivion  : 
?is  if  the  multitude,  or  the  wisest,  for  the  multi 
tude's  sake,  were  not  ready  to  give  passage  rather 
to  that  which  is  popular  and  superficial,  than  to 
that  which  is  substantial  and  profound ;  for  the 
truth  is,  that  time  seemeth  to  be  of  the  nature  of 
a  river  or  stream,  which  carrieth  down  to  us  that 
which  is  light  and  blown  up,  and  sinketh  and 
drowneth  that  which  is  weighty  and  solid. 

Another  error,  of  a  diverse  nature  from  all  the 
former,  is  the  over  early  and  peremptory  reduction 
of  knowledge  into  arts  and  methods  ;  from  which 
time  commonly  sciences  receive  small  or  no  aug 
mentation.  But  as  young  men,  when  they  knit 
and  shape  perfectly,  do  seldom  grow  to  a  further 
stature  :  so  knowledge,  while  it  is  in  aphorisms 
and  observations,  it  is  in  growth  ;  but  when  it 
once  is  comprehended  in  exact  methods,  it  may 
perchance  be  further  polished  and  illustrated, 
and  accommodated  for  use  and  practice ;  but  it 
increaseth  no  more  in  bulk  and  substance. 

Another  error  which  doth  succeed  that  which  we 
last  mentioned,  is,  that  after  the  distribution  of 
particular  arts  and  sciences,  men  have  abandoned 
universality,  or  "philosophia  prima  ;"  which  can 
not  but  cease  and  stop  all  progression.  For  no 
perfect  discovery  can  be  made  upon  a  flat  or  level, 


neither  is  it  possible  to  discover  the  more  remote 
and  deeper  parts  of  any  science,  if  you  stand  but 
upon  the  level  of  the  same  science,  and  ascend 
not  to  a  higher  science. 

Another  error  hath  proceeded  from  too  great  a 
reverence,  and  a  kind  of  adoration  of  the  mind  and 
understanding  of  man:  by  means  whereof,  men 
have  withdrawn  themselves  too  much  from  the 
contemplation  of  nature,  and  the  observations  of 
experience,  and  have  tumbled  up  and  down  in 
their  own  reason  and  conceits.  Upon  these  intel- 
lectualists,  which  are,  notwithstanding,  common 
ly  taken  for  the  most  sublime  and  divine  philoso 
phers,  Heraclitus  gave  a  just  censure,  saying, 
"  Men  sought  truth  in  their  o\vn  little  worlds,  and 
not  in  the  great  and  common  world  ;"  for  they 
disdain  to  spell,  and  so  by  degrees  to  read  in  the 
volume  of  God's  works ;  and  contrariwise,  by 
continual  meditation  and  agitation  of  wit,  do  urge 
and  as  it  w;ere  invocate  their  own  spirits  to  di 
vine,  and  give  oracles  Airito  them,  whereby  they 
are  deservedly  deluded. 

Another  error  that  hath  some  connexion  with 
this  latter,  is,  that  men  have  used  to  infect  their 
meditations,  opinions,  and  doctrines,  with  some 
conceits  which  they  have  most  admired,  or  some 
sciences  which  they  have  most  applied  ;  and 
given  all  things  else  a  tincture  according  to  them, 
utterly  untrue  and  improper.  So  hath  Plato 
intermingled  his  philosophy  with  theology,  and 
Aristotle  writh  logic ;  and  the  second  school  of 
Plato,  Proclus  and  the  rest,  with  the  mathematics. 
For  these  were  the  arts  which  had  a  kind  of 
primogeniture  with  them  severally.  So  have  the 
alchymists  made  a  philosophy  out  of  a  few  ex 
periments  of  the  furnace;  and  Gilbertus,  our 
countryman,  hath  made  a  philosophy  out  of  the 
observations  of  a  loadstone.  So  Cicero,  when, 
reciting  the  several  opinions  of  the  nature  of  the 
soul,  he  found  a  musician  that  held  the  soul  was 
but  a  harmony,  saith  pleasantly,  "  Hie  ab  arte  sua 
non  recessit,"  &c.  But  of  these  conceits  Aristotle 
speaketh  seriously  and  wisely,  when  he  saith, 
"  Qui  respiciunt  ad  pauca,  de  facili  pronuntiant." 

Another  error  is  an  impatience  of  doubt,  and 
haste  to  assertion  without  due  and  mature  sus 
pension  of  judgment.  For  the  two  ways  of  con 
templation  are  not  unlike  the  two  ways  of  action, 
commonly  spoken  of  by  the  ancients;  the  one 
plain  and  smooth  in  the  beginning,  and  in  the  end 
impassable ;  the  other  rough  and  troublesome  in 
the  entrance,  but  after  a  while  fair  and  even  :  so 
it  is  in  contemplation;  if  a  man  will  begin  with 
certainties,  he  shall  end  in  doubts;  but  if  he  will 
be  content  to  begin  with  doubts  he  shall  end  in 
certainties. 

Another  error  is  in  the  manner  of  the  tradition 
and  delivery  of  knowledge,  which  is  for  the  most 
part  magistral  and  peremptory,  and  not  ingenuous 
and  faithful ;  in  a  sort  as  may  be  soonest  believed, 
and  not  easiliest  examined.  It  is  true,  that  in 


174 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


compendious  treatises  for  practice,  that  form  is 
not  to  be  disallowed  :  but  in  the  true  handling  of 
knowledge,  men  ought  not  to  fall,  either,  on  the 
one  side,  into  the  vein  of  Velleius  the  Epicurean  : 
"Nil  tarn  metuens,  quam  ne  dubitare  aliqua  de 
re  videretur :"  nor,  on  the  other  side,  into 
Socrates'  ironical  doubting  of  all  things ;  but  to 
propound  things  sincerely,  with  more  or  less 
asseveration,  as  they  stand  in  a  man's  own  judg 
ment  proved  more  or  less. 

Other  errors  there  are  in  the  scope  that  men 
propound  to  themselves,  whereunto  they  bend 
their  endeavours  ;  for  whereas  the  more  constant 
and  devoted  kind  of  professors  of  any  science 
ought  to  propound  to  themselves  to  make  some 
additions  to  their  science,  they  convert  their 
labours  to  aspire  to  certain  second  prizes  :  as  to  be 
a  profound  interpreter  or  commentor,  to  be  a  sharp 
champion  or  defender,  to  be  a  methodical  com- 
pounder  or  abridger,  and  so  the  patrimony  of 
knowledge  cometh  to  be  sometimes  improved, 
but  seldom  augmented. 

But  the  greatest  error  of  all  the  rest,  is  the 
mistaking  or  misplacing  of  the  last  or  furthest 
end  of  knowledge :  for  men  have  entered  into  a 
desire  of  learning  and  knowledge,  sometimes 
upon  a  natural  curiosity,  and  inquisitive  appetite ; 
sometimes  to  entertain  their  minds  with  variety 
and  delight ;  sometimes  for  ornament  and  reputa 
tion  ;  and  sometimes  to  enable  them  to  victory  of 
wit  and  contradiction;  and  most  times  for  lucre 
and  profession :  and  seldom  sincerely  to  give  a 
trjie^iccount  of  their  gift  of  reason,  to  the  benefit 
and  use  of  men :  as  if  there  were  sought  in  know 
ledge  a  couch,  whereupon  to  rest  a  searching 
and  restless  spirit ;  or  a  tarrasse  for  a  wandering 
and  variable  mind  to  walk  u-p  and  down  with  a 
fair  prospect;  or  a  tower  of  state,  for  a  proud 
mind  to  raise  itself  upon ;  or  a  fort  or  command 
ing  ground,  for  strife  and  contention;  or  a  shop, 
for  profit  or  sale ;  and  not  a  rich  storehouse,  for 
the  glory  of  the  Creator,  and  the  relief  of  man's 
estate.  But  this  is  that  which  will  indeed  dignify 
and  exalt  knowledge,  if  contemplation  and  action 
may  be  more  nearly  and  straitly  conjoined  and 
united  together  than  they  have  been ;  a  conjunc 
tion  like  unto  that  of  the  two  highest  planets, 
Saturn,  the  planet  of  rest  and  contemplation,  and 
Jupiter,  the  planet  of  civil  society  and  action :  how- 
beit,  I  do  not  mean,  when  I  speak  of  use  and 
action,  that  end  before  mentioned  of  the  applying 
of  knowledge  to  lucre  and  profession ;  for  I  am  not 
ignorant  how  much  that  diverteth  and  interrupteth 
the  prosecution  and  advancement  of  knowledge, 
like  unto  the  golden  ball  thrown  before  Atalanta, 
wnich  winle  she  goeth  aside  and  stoopeth  to  take 
up,  the  race  is  hindered  ; 

"  Declinat  cursus,  aurumque  volubile  tollit." 

Neither  is   my   meaning,  as  was   spoken   of 
Socrates,  to  call  philosophy  down  from  heaven  to 


converse  upon  the  earth ;  that  is,  to  leave  natural 
philosophy  aside,  and  to  apply  knowledge  only 
to  manners  and  policy.  But  as  both  heaven  and 
earth  do  conspire  and  contribute  to  the  use  and 
benefit  of  man ;  so  the  end  ought  to  be,  from  both 
philosophies  to  separate  and  reject  vain  specula 
tions,  and  whatsoever  is  empty  and  void,  and  to 
preserve  and  augment  whatsoever  is  solid  and  fruit 
ful:  that  knowledge  may  not  be,  as  a  courtesan, 
for  pleasure  and  vanity  only,  or  as  a  bond-woman, 
to  acquire  and  gain  to  her  master's  use ;  but  as  a 
spouse,  for  generation,  fruit,  and  comfort. 

Thus  have  I  described  and  opened,  as  by  a  kind 
of  dissection,  those  peccant  humours,  (the  prin 
cipal  of  them,)  wrhich  have  not  only  given  impe 
diment  to  the  proficience  of  learning,  but  have 
given  also  occasion  to  the  traducement  thereof: 
wherein  if  I  have  been  too  plain,  it  must  be  re 
membered,  "  Fidelia  vulnera  amantis,  sed  dolosa 
oscula  malignantis."  This,  I  think,  I  have 
gained,  that  I  ought  to  be  the  better  believed  in 
that  which  I  shall  say  pertaining  to  commenda 
tion  ;  because  I  have  proceeded  so  freely  in  that 
which  concerneth  censure.  And  yet  I  have  no 
purpose  to  enter  into  a  laudative  of  learning,  or 
to  make  a  hymn  to  the  muses ;  (though  I  am  of 
opinion  that  it  is  long  since  their  rites  were  duly 
celebrated  :)  but  my  intent  is,  without  varnish  or 
amplification,  justly  to  weigh  the  dignity  of 
knowledge  in  the  balance  with  other  things,  to 
take  the  true  value  thereof  by  testimonies  and 
arguments  divine  and  human. 
\  First,  therefore,  let  us  seek  the  dignity  of  know 
ledge  in  the  archetype  or  first  platform,  which  is 
in  the  attributes  and  acts  of  God,  as  far  as  they 
are  revealed  to  man,  and  may  be  observed  with 
sobriety;  wherein  we  may  not  seek  it  by  the 
name  of  learning;  for  all  Learning  is  knowledge 
acquired,  and  all  knowledge  in  God  is  original  : 
and  therefore  we  must  look  for  it  by  another 
name,  that  of  wisdom  or  sapience,  as  the  Scrip 
tures  call  it. 

It  is  so  then,  that  in  the  work  of  the  creation 
we  see  a  double  emanation  of  virtue  from  God  ; 
the  one  referring  more  properly  to  power,  the 
other  to  wisdom;  the  one  expressed  in  making 
the  subsistence  of  the  matter,  and  the  other  in 
disposing  the  beauty  of  the  form.  This  being 
supposed,  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  for  any  thing 
which  appeareth  in  the  history  of  the  creation, 
the  confused  mass  and  matter  of  heaven  and  eartb 
was  made  in  a  moment;  and  the  order  and  dispo 
sition  of  that  chaos  or  mass  was  the  work  of  six 
days ;  such  a  note  of  difference  it  pleased  God  to 
put  upon  the  works  of  power,  and  the  works  of 
wisdom ;  wherewith  concurreth,  that  in  the  former 
it  is  not  set  down  that  God  said,  "  Let  there  bo 
heaven  and  earth,"  as  it  is  set  down  of  the  works 
following;  but  actually,  that  God  made  heaven 
and  earth :  the  one  carrying  the  style  of  a  manu 
facture,  and  the  other  of  a  law,  decree,  or  counsel 


BOOK  I. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


175 


To  proceed  to  that  which  is  next  in  order  from 
God  to  spirits.  We  find,  as  far  as  credit  is  to  be 
given  to  the  celestial  hierachy  of  that  supposed 
Dionysius  the  senator  of  Athens,  the  first  place 
or  degree  is  given  to  the  angels  of  love,  which 
are  termed  Seraphim ;  the  second  to  the  angels 
of  light,  which  are  termed  Cherubim ;  and  the 
third,  arid  so  following  places,  to  thrones,  princi 
palities,  and  the  rest,  which  are  all  angels  of 
power  and  ministry ;  so  as  the  angels  of  know 
ledge  and  illumination  are  placed  before  the  angels 
of  office  and  domination. 

To  descend  from  spirits  and  intellectual  forms 
to  sensible  and  material  forms  ;  we  read  the  first 
form  that  was  created  was  light,  which  hath  a 
relation  and  correspondence  in  nature  and  corpo 
ral  things  to  knowledge  in  spirits  and  incorporal 
things. 

So  in  the  distribution  of  days,  we  see,  the  day 
wherein  God  did  rest,  and  contemplate  his  own 
works,  was  blessed  above  all  the  days  wherein 
he  did  effect  and  accomplish  them. 

After  the  creation  was  finished,  it  is  set  down 
unto  us,  that  man  was  placed  in  the  garden  to 
work  therein;  which  work,  so  appointed  to  him, 
could  be  no  other  than  work  of  contemplation ; 
that  is,  when  the  end  of  work  is  but  for  exercise 
and  experiment,  not  for  necessity ;  for  there  being 
then  no  reluctation  of  the  creature,  nor  sweat  of 
the  brow,  man's  employment  must  of  consequence 
have  been  matter  of  delight  in  the  experiment, 
and  not  matter  of  labour  for  the  use.  Again,  the 
first  acts  which  man  performed  in  Paradise  con 
sisted  of  the  two  summary  parts  of  knowledge  ; 
the  view  of  creatures,  and  the  imposition  of 
names.  As  for  the  knowledge  which  induced 
the  fall,  it  was,  as  was  touched  before,  not  the 
natural  knowledge  of  creatures,  but  the  moral 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil ;  wherein  the  suppo 
sition  was,  that  God's  commandments  or  prohibi 
tions  were  not  the  originals  of  good  and  evil,  but 
that  they  had  other  beginnings,  which  man  as 
pired  to  know  ;  to  the  end  to  make  a  total  defec 
tion  from  God,  and  to  depend  wholly  upon  him 
self. 

To  pass  on :  in  the  first  event  or  occurrence 
after  the  fall  of  man,  we  see,  (as  the  Scriptures 
have  infinite  mysteries,  not  violating  at  all  the 
truth  of  the  story  or  letter,)  an  image  of  the  two 
estates,  the  contemplative  state  and  the  active 
state,  figured  in  the  two  persons  of  Abel  and 
Cain,  and  in  the  two  simplest  and  most  primitive 
trades  of  life;  that  of  the  shepherd,  (who,  by 
reason  of  his  leisure,  rest  in  a  place,  and  living  in 
view  of  heaven,  is  a  lively  image  of  a  contempla 
tive  life,)  and  that  of  the  husbandman  :  where 
we  see  again  the  favour  and  election  of  Goc 
went  to  the  shepherd,  and  not  to  the  tiller  of  the 
ground. 

So  in  the  age  before  the  flood,  the  holy  records 
within  those  few  memorials  which  are  there  en 


tered  and  registered,  have  vouchsafed  to  mention 
ind  honour  the  na.me  of  the  inventors  and  authors 
)f  music  and  works  in  metal.  In  the  age  after 
he  flood,  the  first  great  judgment  of  God  upon 
;he  ambition  of  man  was  the  confusion  of  tongues ; 
whereby  the  open  trade  and  intercourse  of  learn- 
ng  and  knowledge  was  chiefly  embarred. 

To  descend  to  Moses  the  lawgiver,  and  God's 
irst  pen :  he  is  adorned  by  the  Scriptures  with 
his  addition  and  commendation,  that  he  was 
'seen  in  all  the  learning  of  the  Egyptians;" 
which  nation,  we  know,  was  one  of  the  most 
ancient  schools  of  the  world  :  for  so  Plato  brings 
n  the  Egyptian  priest  saying  unto  Solon :  "  You 
Grecians  are  ever  children ;  you  have  no  know- 
edge  of  antiquity,  nor  antiquity  of  knowledge." 
Take  a  view  of  the  ceremonial  law  of  Moses ;  you 
hall  find,  besides  the  prefiguration  of  Christ,  the 
iadge  of  difference  of  the  people  of  God,  the  ex- 
ircise  and  impression  of  obedience,  and  other 
divine  uses  and  fruits  thereof,  that  some  of  the 
nost  learned  rabbins  have  travelled  profitably 
and  profoundly  to  observe,  some  of  them  a  natu 
ral,  some  of  them  a  moral  sense,  or  reduction  of 
many  of  the  ceremonies  and  ordinances.  As  in 
the  law  of  the  leprosy,  where  it  is  said,  "If  the 
whiteness  have  overspread  the  flesh,  the  patient 
may  pass  abroad  for  clean;  but  if  there  be  any 
whole  flesh  remaining,  he  is  to  be  shut  up  for  un 
clean  ;"  one  of  them  noteth  a  principle  of  nature, 
that  putrefaction  is  more  contagious  before  ma 
turity  than  after :  and  another  noteth  a  position 
of  moral  philosophy,  that  men  abandoned  to  vice, 
do  not  so  much  corrupt  manners,  as  those  that  are 
half-good  and  half-evil.  So  in  this  and  very 
many  other  places  in  that  law,  there  is  to  b( 
found,  besides  the  theological  sense,  much  asper 
sion  of  philosophy. 

So  likewise  in  that  excellent  book  of  Job,  if  it 
be  revolved  with  diligence,  it  will  be  found  preg 
nant  and  swelling  with  natural  philosophy;  as 
for  example,  cosmography,  and  the  roundness  of 
the  world,  "  Qui  extendit  aquilonem  super  vacu 
um,  et  appendit  terram  super  nihilum  ;"  wherein 
the  pensileness  of  the  earth,  the  pole  of  the  north, 
and  the  finiteness  or  convexity  of  heaven  are 
manifestly  touched  :  so  again,  matter  of  astrono 
my  ;  "  Spiritus  ejus  ornavit  ccelos,  et  obstetricante 
manu  ejus  eductus  est  Coluber  tortuosus."  And 
in  another  place  ;  "  Nunquid  conjungere  valebis 
micantes  Stellas  Pleiadas,  aut  gyrum  Arcturi 
poteris  dissipare  ?"  Where  the  fixing  of  the 
stars,  ever  standing  at  equal  distance,  is  with 
great  elegancy  noted.  And  in  another  place; 
"  Qui  facit  Arcturum,  et  Oriona,  et  Hyadas,  et 
interiora  Austri ;"  where  again  he  takes  know 
ledge  of  the  depression  of  the  southern  pole,  call 
ing  it  the  secrets  of  the  south,  because  the  south 
ern  stars  were  in  that  climate  unseen.  Matter  of 
generation;  "Annon  sicut  lac  mulsisti  me,  et 
sicut  caseum  coagulasti  me"?"  &c.  Matter  of 


176 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  I. 


minerals  ;  "  Habet  argentum  venarum  suarum 
principia :  et  auro  locus  est  in  quo  conflatur,  fer- 
rum  de  terra  tollitur,  et  lapis  solutus  calore  in  ses 
vertitur :"  and  so  forwards  in  that  chapter. 

So  likewise  in  the  person  of  Solomon  the  king1, 
we  see  the  gift  or  endowment  of  wisdom  and 
learning,  both  in  Solomon's  petition,  and  in  God's 
assent  thereunto,  preferred  before  all  other  terrene 
and  temporal  felicity.  By  virtue  of  which  grant 
or  donative  of  God,  Solomon  became  enabled, 
not  only  to  write  those  excellent  parables,  or 
aphorisms  concerning  divine  and  moral  philoso 
phy  ;  but  also  to  compile  a  natural  history  of  all 
verdure,  from  the  cedar  upon  the  mountain  to  the 
moss  upon  the  wall,  (which  is  but  a  rudiment 
between  putrefaction  and  an  herb,)  and  also  of 
all  things  that  breathe  or  move.  Nay,  the  same 
Solomon  the  king,  although  he  excelled  in  the 
glory  of  treasure  and  magnificent  buildings,  of 
shipping  and  navigation,  of  service  and  attend 
ance,  of  fame  and  renown,  and  the  like,  yet  he 
maketh  no  claim  to  any  of  those  glories,  but  only 
to  the  glory  of  inquisition  of  truth  ;  for  so  hesaith 
expressly,  "  The  glory  of  God  is  to  conceal  a 
thing,  but  the  glory  of  a  king  is  to  find  it  out ;" 
as  if,  according  to  the  innocent  play  of  children, 
the  Divine  Majesty  took  delight  to  hide  his  works, 
to  the  end  to  have  them  found  out;  and  as  if 
kings  could  not  obtain  a  greater  honour  than  to  be 
God's  playfellows  in  that  game  ;  considering  the 
great  commandment  of  wits  and  means,  whereby 
nothing  needeth  to  be  hidden  from  them. 

Neither  did  the  dispensation  of  God  vary  in  the 
times  after  our  Saviour  came  into  the  world  ;  for 
our  Saviour  himself  did  first  show  his  power  to 
subdue  ignorance,  by  his  conference  with  the 
priests  and  doctors  of  the  law,  before  he  showed 
his  power  to  subdue  nature  by  his  miracles.  And 
the  coming  of  the  Holy  Spirit  was  chiefly  figured 
and  expressed  in  the  similitude  and  gift  of 
tongues,  which  are  but  "vehicula  scientiee." 

So  in  the  election  of  those  instruments,  which 
it  pleased  God  to  use  for  the  plantation  of  the 
faith,  notwithstanding  that  at  the  first  he  did  em 
ploy  persons  altogether  unlearned,  otherwise  than 
by  inspiration,  more  evidently  to  declare  his  im 
mediate  working,  and  to  abase  all  human  wisdom 
or  knowledge;  yet,  nevertheless,  that  counsel  of 
his  was  no  sooner  performed,  but  in  the  next 
vicissitude  and  succession  he  did  send  his  divine 
truth  into  the  world,  waiting  on  with  other  learn 
ings,  as  with  servants  or  handmaids :  for  so  we 
see  St.  Paul,  who  was  the  only  learned  amongst 
the  apostles,  had  his  pen  most  used  in  the  Scrip 
tures  of  the  New  Testament. 

So  again,  we  find  that  many  of  the  ancient 
bishops  and  fathers  of  the  church  were  excellently 
read,  and  studied  in  all  the  learning  of  the  hea 
then;  insomuch,  that  the  edict  of  the  Emperor 
Julianus,  whereby  it  was  interdicted  unto  Chris 
tians  to  be  admitted  into  schools,  lectures,  or  ex 


ercises  of  learning,  was  esteemed  and  accounted 
a  more  pernicious  engine  and  machination  against 
the  Christian  faith,  than  were  all  the  sanguinary 
prosecutions  of  his  predecessors  :  neither  could 
the  emulation  and  jealousy  of  Gregory  the  First 
of  that  name,  bishop  of  Rome,  ever  obtain  the 
opinion  of  piety  or  devotion;  but  contrariwise 
received  the  censure  of  humour,  malignity,  and 
pusillanimity,  even  amongst  holy  men ;  in  that 
tie  designed  to  obliterate  and  extinguish  the  me 
mory  of  heathen  antiquity  and  authors.  But  con 
trariwise,  it  was  the  Christian  church,  which, 
amidst  the  inundations  of  the  Scythians  on  the 
one  side  from  the  north-west,  and  the  Saracens 
from  the  east,  did  preserve,  in  the  sacred  lap  and 
bosom  thereof,  the  precious  relics  even  of  heathen 
learning,  which  otherwise  had  been  extinguished, 
as  if  no  such  thing  had  ever  been. 

And  we  see  before  our  eyes,  that  in  the  age  of 
ourselves  and  our  fathers,  when  it  pleased  God  to 
call  the  church  of  Rome  to  account  for  their  de 
generate  manners  and  ceremonies  and  sundry 
doctrines  obnoxious,  and  framed  to  uphold  the 
same  abuses ;  at  one  and  the  same  time  it  was 
ordained  by  the  Divine  Providence,  that  there 
should  attend  withal  a  renovation,  and  new  spring 
of  all  other  knowledges :  and,  on  the  other  side, 
we  see  the  Jesuits,  (who  partly  in  themselves, 
and  partly  by  the  emulation  and  provocation  of 
their  example,  have  much  quickened  and  strength 
ened  the  state  of  learning,)  we  see,  I  say,  what 
notable  service  and  reparation  they  have  clone  to 
the  Roman  see. 

Wherefore,  to  conclude  this  part,  let  it  be  ob 
served,  that  there  be  two  principal  duties  and  ser 
vices,  besides  ornament  and  illustration,  which 
philosophy  and  human  learning  do  perform  to 
faith  and  religion.  The  one,  because  they  are  an 
effectual  inducement  to  the  exaltation  of  the  glory 
of  God  :  For  as  the  Psalms  and  other  Scriptures 
do  often  invite  us  to  consider  and  magnify  the 
great  and  wonderful  works  of  God ;  so  if  we 
should  rest  only  in  the  contemplation  of  the  ex 
terior  of  them,  as  they  first  offer  themselves  to 
our  senses,  we  should  do  a  like  injury  unto  the 
majesty  of  God,  as  if  we  should  judge  or  con 
strue  of  the  store  of  some  excellent  jeweller,  by 
that  only  which  is  set  out  toward  the  street  in  his 
shop.  The  other,  because,  they  minister  a  sin 
gular  help  and  preservative  against  unbelief  and 
error :  for  our  Saviour  saith,  "  You  err,  not  know 
ing  the  Scriptures,  nor  .the  power  of  God  ;"  lay 
ing  before  us  two  books  or  volumes  to  study,  if 
we  will  be  secured  from  error ;' first,  the  Scrip 
tures,  revealing  the  will  of  God ;  and  then  the 
creatures  expressing  his  power :  whereof  the 
latter  is  a  key  unto  the  former :  not  only  opening 
our  understanding  to  conceive  the  true  sense  of  the 
Scriptures,  by  the  general  notions  of  reason  and 
rules  of  speech ;  but  chiefly  opening  our  belief, 
in  drawing  us  into  a  due  meditation  of  the  omni- 


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177 


potency  of  God,  which  is  chiefly  signed  and  en 
graven  upon  his  works.  Thus  much  therefore  for 
divine  testimony  and  evidence  concerning  the 
true  dignity  and  value  of  learning. 

As  for  human  proofs,  it  is  so  large  a  field,  as, 
'-'"In  a  discourse  of  this  nature  and  brevity,  it  is  fit 
rather  to  use  choice  of  those  things  which  we 
shall  produce,  than  to  embrace  the  variety  of  them. 
First,  therefore,  in  the  degrees  of  human  honour 
amongst  the  heathen,  it  was  the  highest  to  obtain 
to  a  veneration  and  adoration  as  a  God.  This 
unto  the  Christians  is  as  the  forbidden  fruit.  But 
we  speak  now  separately  of  human  testimony  : 
according  to  which,  that  which  the  Grecians  call 
"  apotheosis,"  and  the  Latins,  "  relatio  inter 
divos,"  was  the  supreme  honour  which  man 
could  attribute  unto  man  :  especially  when  it  was 
given,  not  by  a  formal  decree  or  act  of  state,  as  it 
was  used  among  the  Roman  emperors,  but  by  an 
inward  assent  and  belief.  Which  honour,  being 
so  high,  had  also  a  degree  or  middle  term :  for 
there  were  reckoned,  above  human  honours,  ho 
nours  heroical  and  divine  :  in  the  attribution  and 
distribution  of  which  honours,  we  see,  antiquity 
made  this  difference  :  that  whereas  founders  and 
uniters  of  states  and  cities,  lawgivers,  extirpers 
of  tyrants,  fathers  of  the  people,  and  other  emi 
nent  persons  in  civil  merit,  were  honoured  but 
with  the  titles  of  worthies  or  demi-gods ;  such  as 
were  Hercules,  Theseus,  Minos,  Romulus,  and 
the  like :  on  the  other  side,  such  as  were  inventors 
and  authors  of  new  arts,  endowments,  and  com 
modities  towards  man's  life,  were  ever  consecrated 
amongst  the  gods  themselves  :  as  were  Ceres, 
Bacchus,  Mercurius,  Apollo,  and  others:  and 
justly;  for  the  merit  of  the  former  is  confined 
within  the  circle  of  an  age  or  a  nation  ;  and  is  like 
fruitful  showers,  which  though  they  be  profitable 
and  good,  yet  serve  but  for  that  season,  and  for  a 
latitude  of  ground  where  they  fall ;  but  the  other 
is  indeed  like  the  benefits  of  heaven,  which  are 
permanent  and  universal.  The  former,  again,  is 
mixed  with  strife  and  perturbation;  but  the  latter 
hath  the  true  character  of  divine  presence,  coming 
"  in  aura  leni,"  without  noise  or  agitation. 

Neither  is  certainly  that  other  merit  of  learning, 
in  repressing  the  inconveniences  which  grow  from 
man  to  man,  much  inferior  to  the  former,  of  reliev 
ing  the  necessities  whicji  arise  from  nature ;  which 
merit  was  lively  set  forth  by,the  ancients  in  that 
feigned  relation  of  Orpheus's  theatre,  where  all 
beasts  and  birds  assembled ;  and,  forgetting  their 
several  appetites,  some  of  prey,  some  of  game, 
some  of  quarrel,  stood  all  sociably  together  list 
ening  to  the  airs  and  accords  of  the  harp ;  the 
sound  whereof  no  sooner  ceased,  or  was  drowned 
by  some  louder  noise,  but  every. beast  returned  to 
his  own  nature :  wherein  is  aptly  described  the 
nature  and  .condition  of  men,  who  are  full  of 
savage  and  unreclaimed  desires  of  profit,  of  lust, 
of  revenge ;  which  as  long  as  they  give  ear  to 
VOL.  I.— 23 


precepts,  to  laws,  to  religion,  sweetly  touched 
with  eloquence  and  persuasion  of  books,  of  ser 
mons,  of  harangues,  so  long  is  society  and  peace 
maintained ;  but  if  these  instruments  be  silent,  or 
that  sedition  and  tumult  make  them  not  audible, 
all  things  dissolve  into  anarchy  and  confusion. 

But  this  appeareth  more  manifestly,  when  kings 
themselves,  or  persons  of  authority  under  them 
or  other  governors  in  commonwealths  and  popular 
estates,  are  endued  with  learning.  For  although 
he  might  be  thought  partial  to  his  own  profession, 
that  said,  "Then  should  people  and  estates  be 
happy,  when  either  kings  were  philosophers,  or 
philosophers  kings  ;"  yet  so  much  is  verified  by 
experience,  that  under  learned  princes  and  govern 
ors  there  have  been  ever  the  best  times  :  for  howso 
ever  kings  may  have  their  imperfections  in  their 
passions  and  customs ;  yet  if  they  be  illuminate 
by  learning,  they  have  those  notions  of  religion, 
policy,  and  morality  which  do  preserve  them, 
and  refrain  them  from  all  ruinous  and  peremptory 
errors  and  excesses  ;  whispering  evermore  in  their 
ears,  when  counsellors  and  servants  stand  mute 
and  silent.  And  senators  or  counsellors  likewise, 
which  be  learned,  do  proceed  upon  more  safe  and 
substantial  principles  than  counsellors  which  are 
only  men  of  experience ;  the  one  sort  keeping 
dangers  afar  off,  whereas  the  other  discover  them 
not  till  they  come  near  hand,  and  then  trust  to 
the  agility -of  their  wit  to  ward  off  or  avoid  them. 

Which  felicity  of  times  under  learned  princes, 
(to  keep  still  the  law  of  brevity,  by  using  the  most 
eminent  and  selected  examples,)  doth  best  appear 
in  the  age  which  passed  from  the  death  of  Domi- 
tian  emperor  until  the  reign  of  Commodus  ;  com 
prehending  a  succession  of  six  princes,  all  learned 
or  singular  favourers  and  advancers  of  learning, 
which  age,  for  temporal  respects,  was  the  most 
happy  and  flourishing  that  ever  the  Roman  empire 
(which  then  was  a  model  of  the  world)  enjoyed ; 
a  matter  revealed  and  prefigured  unto  Domitian  in 
a  dream  the  night  before  he  was  slain;  for  he 
thought  there  was  grown  behind  upon  his  shoul 
ders  a  neck  and  a  head  of  gold  ;  which  came 
accordingly  to  pass  in  those  golden  times  which 
succeeded  :  of  which  princes  we  will  make  some 
commemoration;  wherein  although  the  matter 
will  be  vulgar,  and  may  be  thought  fitter  lor  a 
declamation  than  agreeable  to  a  treatise  infolded 
as  this  is,  yet  because  it  is  pertinent  to  the  point 
in  hand,  "neque  semper  arcum  tendit  Apollo," 
and  to  name  them  only  were  too  naked  and  cursory. 
I  will  not  omit  it  altogether. 

The  first  was  Nerva ;  the  excellent  temper  of 
whose  government  is  by  a  glance  in  Cornelius 
Tacitus  touched  to  the  life  :  "  Postquam  divus 
Nerva  res  olim  insociabiles  miscuisset,  impe- 
rium  et  libertatem."  And  in  token  of  his  learn 
ing,  the  last  act  of  his  short  reign,  left  to  memory, 
was  a  missive  to  his  adopted  son  Trajan,  proceed 
ing  upon  some  inward  discontent  at  the  ingrati 


178 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  I. 


tude  of  the  times,  comprehended  in  a  verse  of 
Homer's  : 

"  Telis,  Phoebe,  tuis  lachrymas  ulciscere  nostras." 
Trajan,  who  succeeded,  was  for  his  person  not 
learned  :  but  if  we  will  hearken  to  the  speech  of 
our  Saviour,  that  saith,  "  He  that  receiveth  a  pro 
phet  in  the  name  of  a  prophet,  shall  have  a  pro 
phet's  reward,"  he  deserveth  to  be  placed  amongst 
the  most  learned  princes:  for  there  was  not  a 
greater  admirer  of  learning,  or  benefactor  of 
learning:  a  founder  of  famous  libraries,  a  perpe 
tual  advancer  of  learned  men  to  office,  and  a 
familiar  converser  with  learned  professors  and 
preceptors,  who  were  noted  to  have  then  most 
credit  in  court.  On  the  other  side,  how  much 
Trajan's  virtue  and  government  was  admired  and 
renowned,  surely  no  testimony  of  grave  and  faith 
ful  history  doth  more  livelily  set  forth,  than  that 
legend  tale  of  Gregorius  Magnus,  Bishop  of  Rome, 
who  was  noted  for  the  extreme  envy  he  bore 
towards  all  heathen  excellency :  and  yet  he  is  re 
ported,  out  of  the  love  and  estimation  of  Trajan's 
moral  virtues,  to  have  made  unto  God  passionate 
and  fervent  prayers  for  the  delivery  of  his  soul 
out  of  hell ;  and  to  have  obtained  it,  with  a  caveat 
that  he  should  make  no  more  such  petitions.  In 
this  prince's  time  also,  the  persecutions  against 
the  Qhristians  received  intermission,  upon  the 
certificate  of  Plinius  Secundus,  a  man  of  excellent 
learning  and  by  Trajan  advanced. 

Adrian,  his  successor,  was  the  most  curious 
man  that  lived,  and  the  most  universal  inquirer ; 
insomuch  as  it  was  noted  for  an  error  in  his  mind, 
that  he  desired  to  comprehend  all  things,  and  not 
to  reserve  himself  for  the  worthiest  things ;  falling 
into  the  like  humour  that  was  long  before  noted 
in  Philip  of  Macedon  ;  who,  when  he  would  needs 
overrule  and  put  down  an  excellent  musician  in 
an  argument  touching  music,  was  well  answered 
by  him  again,  "  God  forbid,  sir,"  saith  he,  "that 
your  fortune  should  be  so  bad,  as  to  know  these 
things  better  than  I."  It  pleased  God  likewise  to 
use  the  curiosity  of  this  emperor  as  an  inducement 
to  the  peace  of  his  church  in  those  days.  For  hav 
ing  Christ  in  veneration,  not  as  a  God  or  Saviour, 
but  as  a  wonder  or  novelty ;  and  having  his  pic 
ture  in  his  gallery,  matched  with  Apollonius,  with 
whom,  in  his  vain  imagination,  he  thought  he 
had  some  conformity ;  yet  it  served  the  turn  to 
allay  the  bitter  hatred  of  those  times  against  the 
Christian  name,  so  as  the  church  had  peace  during 
his  time.  And  for  his  government  civil,  although 
he  did  not  attain  to  that  of  Trajan's  in  glory  of 
arms,  or  perfection  of  justice,  yet  in  deserving  of 
the  weal  of  the  subject  he  did  exceed  him.  For 
Trajan  erected  many  famous  monuments  and 
buildings  ;  insomuch  that  Constan'ine  the  Great 
in  emulation  was  wont  to  call  him  "  Parietaria," 
(wall  flower,)  because  his  name  was  upon  so 
many  walls  :  but  his  buildings  and  works  were 
more  of  glory  and  triumph  than  use  and  neces 


sity.  But  Adrian  spent  his  whole  reign,  which 
was  peaceable,  in  a  perambulation  or  survey  of 
the  Roman  empire;  giving  order,  and  making 
assignation  where  he  went,  for  re-edifying  of 
cities,  towns,  and  forts  decayed  ;  and  for  cu tinier 
of  rivers  and  streams,  and  for  making  bridges 
and  passages,  and  for  policying  of  cities  and 
commonalties  with  new  ordinances  and  consti 
tutions,  and  granting  new  franchises  and  incor 
porations;  so  that  his  whole  time  was  a  very 
restoration  of  all  the  lapses  and  decays  of  former 
times. 

Antoninus  Pius,  who  succeeded  him,  was  a 
prince  excellently  learned  ;  and  had  the  patient 
and  subtle  wit  of  a  schoolman ;  insomuch  as  in 
common  speech,  which  leaves  no  virtue  untaxed, 
he  was  called  "  cymini  sector,"  (a  carver  or  di 
vider  of  cumin,)  which  is  one  of  the  least  seeds  ; 
such  a  patience-  he  had  and  settled  spirit,  to  enter 
into  the  least  and  most  exact  differences  of  causes  ; 
a  fruit  no  doubt  of  the  exceeding  tranquillity 
and  serenity  of  his  mind  ;  which  being  noways 
charged  or  encumbered,  either  with  fears,  re 
morses,  or  scruples,  but  having  been  noted  for  a 
man  of  the  purest  goodness,  without  all  fiction  or 
affectation,  that  hath  reigned  or  lived,  made  his 
mind  continually  present  and  entire.  He  like 
wise  approached  a  degree  nearer  unto  Christi 
anity,  and  became  as  Agrippa  said  unto  St.  Paul, 
"half  a  Christian;"  holding  their  religion  and 
law  in  good  opinion,  and  not  only  ceasing  perse 
cution,  but  giving  way  to  the  advancement  of 
Christians. 

There  succeeded  him  the  first  "  divi-fratres," 
the  two  adoptive  brethren,  Lucius  Commodus 
Verus  (son  to  ^lius  Verus,  who  delighted  much 
in  the  softer  kind  of  learning,  and  was  wont  to 
call  the  poet  Martial  his  Virgil)  and  Marcus  Au- 
relius  Antoninus  :  whereof  the  latter,  who  obscured 
his  colleague  and  survived  him  long,  was  named 
the  philosopher :  who  as  he  excelled  all  the  rest 
in  learning,  so  he  excelled  them  likewise  in  per 
fection  of  all  royal  virtues;  insomuch  as  Julianus 
the  emperor,  in  his  book  entitled  "  Caesares,' 
being  as  a  pasquin  or  satire  to  deride  all  his  pre 
decessors,  feigned  that  they  were  all  invited  to  a 
banquet  of  the  gods,  and  Silenus  the  Jester  sat  at 
the  nether  end  of  the  table,  and  bestowed  a  scoff 
on  every  one  as  they  came  in ;  but  when  Marcus 
Philosophus  came  in,  Silenus  was  gravelled  and 
out  of  countenance,  not  knowing  where  to  carp 
at  him ;  save  at  the  last  he  gave  a  glance  at  his 
patience  towards  his  wife.  And  the  virtue  of  this 
prince,  continued  with  that  of  his  predecessor, 
made  the  name  of  Antoninus  so  sacred  in  the 
world,  that  though  it  were  extremely  dishonoured 
in  Commodus,  Caracalla,  and  Heliogabalus,  who 
all  bore  the  name,  yet  when  Alexander  Severus 
refused  the  name,  because  he  was  a  stranger  to  the 
family,  the  senate  with  one  acclamation  said, 
"  Quo  modo  Augustus,  sic  et  Antoninus."  In  such 


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ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


179 


renown  and  veneration  was  the  name  of  these  two 
princes  in  those  days,  that  they  would  have  it  as 
a  perpetual  addition  in  all  the  emperors'  styles. 
In  this  emperor's  times  also  the  church  for  the 
most  part  was  in  peace ;  so  as  in  this  sequence 
of  six  princes  we  do  see  the  blessed  effects  of 
learning  in  sovereignty,  painted  forth  in  the 
greatest  table  of  the  world. 

But  for  a  tablet,  or  picture  of  smaller  volume, 
(not  presuming  to  speak  of  your  majesty  that 
liveth,)  in  my  judgment  the  most  excellent  is  that 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  your  immediate  predecessor 
in  this  part  of  Britain;  a  princess  that,  if  Plutarch 
were  now  alive  to  write  lives  by  parallels,  would 
trouble  him,  I  think,  to  find  for  her  a  parallel 
amongst  women.  This  lady  was  endued  with 
learning  in  her  sex  singular,  and  rare  even 
amongst  masculine  princes ;  whether  we  speak 
of  learning,  language,  or  of  science,  modern,  or 
ancient,  divinity  or  humanity :  and  unto  the  very 
last  year  of  her  life  she  was  accustomed  to  appoint 
set  hours  for  reading,  scarcely  any  young  student 
in  any  university  more  daily,  or  more  duly.  As 
for  her  government,  I  assure  myself  I  shall  not 
exceed,  if  I  do  affirm  that  this  part  of  the  island 
never  had  forty-five  years  of  better  times  ;  and  yet 
not  through  the  calmness  of  the  season,  but 
through  the  wisdom  of  her  regimen.  For  if  there 
be  considered  of  the  one  side,  the  truth  of  religion 
established,  the  constant  peace  and  security,  the 
good  administration  of  justice,  the  temperate  use 
of  the  prerogative,  not  slackened,  nor  much 
strained,  the  flourishing  state  of  learning,  sortable 
to  so  excellent  a  patroness,  the  convenient  estate 
of  wealth  and  means,  both  of  crown  and  subject, 
the  habit  of  obedience,  and  the  moderation  of  dis 
contents  ;  and  there  be  considered,  on  the  other 
side,  the  differences  of  religion,  the  troubles  of 
neighbour  countries,  the  ambition  of  Spain,  and 
opposition  of  Rome :  and  then,  that  she  was  soli 
tary  and  of  herself :  these  things,  I  say,  considered, 
as  I  could  not  have  chosen  an  instance  so  recent 
and  so  proper,  so,  I  suppose,  I  could  not  have 
chosen  one  more  remarkable  or  eminent  to  the 
purpose  now  in  hand,  which  is  concerning  the 
conjunction  of  learning  in  the  prince  with  felicity 
in  the  people. 

Neither  hath  learning  and  influence  an  operation 
only  upon  civil  merit  and  moral  virtue,  and  the 
arts  or  temperature  of  peace  and  peaceable  go 
vernment  ;  but  likewise  it  hath  no  less  power  and 
efficacy  in  enablement  towards  martial  and  milita 
ry  virtue  and  prowess ;  as  may  be  notably  repre 
sented  in  the  examples  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
and  Ceesar  the  Dictator,  mentioned  before,  butnow 
\n  fit  place  to  be  resumed  ;  of  whose  virtues  and 
acts  in  war  there  needs  no  note  or  recital,  having 
neen  the  wonders  of  time  in  that  kind :  but  of 
their  affections  towards  learning,  and  perfections 
in  learning,  it  is  pertinent  to  say  somewhat. 

Alexander  was  bred  and  taught  under  Aristotle 


the  great  philosopher,  who  dedicated  divers  of  his 
books  of  philosophy  unto  him:  he  was  attended 
with  Callisthenes  and  divers  other  learned  per 
sons,  that  followed  him  in  camp,  throughout  his 
journeys  and  conquests.  What  price  and  esti 
mation  he  had  learning  in  doth  notably  appear  in 
these  three  particulars  :  first,  in  the  envy  he  used 
to  express  that  he  bore  towards  Achilles,  in  this, 
that  he  had  so  good  a  trumpet  of  his  praises  as 
Homer's  verses;  secondly,  in  the  judgment  or 
solution  he  gave  touching  that  precious  cabinet  of 
Darius,  which  was  found  among  his  jewels ; 
whereof  question  was  made  what  thing  was  wor 
thy  to  be  put  into  it;  and  he  gave  his  opinion  for 
Homer's  works:  thirdly,  in  his  letter  to  Aristotle, 
after  he  had  set  forth  his  books  of  nature,  wherein 
he  expostulated  with  him  for  publishing  the  secrets 
or  mysteries  of  philosophy ;  and  gave  him  to  under 
stand  that  himself  esteemed  it  more  to  excel  other 
men  in  learning  and  knowledge  than  in  power 
and  empire.  And  what  use  he  had  of  learning 
doth  appear,  or  rather  shine,  in  all  his  speeches 
and  answers,  being  full  of  science,  and  use  of 
science,  and  that  in  all  variety. 

And  herein  again  it  may  seem  a  thing  scholas- 
tical,  and  somewhat  idle,  to  recite  things  that 
every  man  knoweth  ;  but  yet,  since  the  argument 
I  handle  leadeth  me  thereunto,  I  am  glad  that 
men  shall  perceive  I  am  as  willing  to  flatter,  if 
they  will  so  call  it,  an  Alexander,  or  a  Caesar,  or 
an  Antoninus,  that  are  dead  many  hundred  years 
since,  as  any  that  now  liveth:  for  it  is  the  dis 
playing  of  the  glory  of  learning  in  sovereignty 
that  I  propound  to  myself,  and  not  a  humour  of 
declaiming  in  any  man's  praises.  Observe  then 
the  speech  he  used  of  Diogenes,  and  see  if  it  tend 
not  to  the  true  state  of  one  of  the  greatest  ques 
tions  of  moral  philosophy;  whether  the  enjoying 
of  outward  things,  or  the  contemning  of  them,  be 
the  greatest  happiness :  for  when  he  saw  Dio 
genes  so  perfectly  contented  with  so  little,  he  said 
to  those  that  mocked  at  his  condition;  "Were  I 
not  Alexander,  I  would  wish  to  be  Diogenes." 
But  Seneca  inverteth  it,  and  saith ;  "  Plus  erat, 
quod  hie  nollet  accipere,  quam  quod  ille  posset 
dare."  (There  were  more  things  which  Diogenes 
would  have  refused,  than  there  were  which  Alex 
ander  could  have  given.) 

Observe  again  that  speech  which  was  usual 
with  him,  "That  he  felt  his  mortality  chiefly  in 
two  things,  sleep  and  lust ;"  and  see  if  it  were  not 
a  speech  extracted  out  of  the  depth  of  natural  phi 
losophy,  and  liker  to  have  come  out  of  the  mouth 
of  Aristotle  or  Democritus,  than  from  Alexander. 

See  again  that  speech  of  humanity  and  poesy: 
when  upon  the  bleeding  of  his  wounds,  he  called 
unto  him  one  of  his  flatterers,  that  was  wont  to  as 
cribe  to  him  divine  honour,  and  said,  "Look,  this 
is  very  blood ;  this  is  not  such  a  liquor  as  Homei 
speaketh  of,  which  ran  from  Venus's  hand,  when 
it  was  pierced  by  Diomedes." 


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BOOK  I. 


See  likewise  his  readiness  in  reprehension  of 
logic,  in  the  speech  he  used  to  Cassander,  upon  a 
complaint  that  was  made  against  his  father  Anti- 
pater  ;  for  when  Alexander  happened  to  say, 
"  Do  you  think  these  men  would  have  come  from 
so  far  to  complain,  except  they  had  just  cause  of 
grief?"  And  Cassander  answered,  "Yea,  that 
was  the  matter,  hecause  they  thought  they  should 
not  be  disproved."  Said  Alexander  laughing  : 
"See  the  subtilties  of  Aristotle,  to  take  a  matter 
both  ways,  '  pro  et  contra,'  "  &c. 

But  note  again  how  well  he  could  use  the  same 
art,  which  he  reprehended,  to  serve  his  own  hu 
mour;  when  bearing  a  secret  grudge  to  Callis- 
thenes,  because  he  was  against  the  new  ceremony 
of  his  adoration,  feasting  one  night  where  the 
same  Callisthenes  was  at  the  table,  it  was  moved 
by  some  after  supper,  for  entertainment  sake,  that 
Callisthenes,  who  was  an  eloquent  man,  might 
speak  of  some  theme  or  purpose,  at  his  own 
choice :  which  Callisthenes  did ;  choosing  the 
praise,  of  the  Macedonian  nation  for  his  discourse, 
and  performing  the  same  with  so  good  manner, 
as  the  hearers  were  much  ravished ;  whereupon 
Alexander,  nothing  pleased,  said,  "It  was  easy  to 
be  eloquent  upon  so  good  a  subject.  But,"  saith 
he,  "  turn  your  style,  and  let  us  hear  what  you 
can  say  against  us  :"  which  Callisthenes  present 
ly  undertook,  and  did  with  that  sting  and  life, 
that  Alexander  interrupted  him,  and  said,  "The 
goodness  of  the  cause  made  him  eloquent  before, 
and  despite  made  him  eloquent  then  again." 

Consider  further,  for  tropes  of  rhetoric,  that  ex 
cellent  use  of  a  metaphor  or  translation,  wherewith 
he  taxed  Antipater,  who  was  an  imperious  and  ty 
rannous  governor :  for  when  one  of  Antipater's 
friends  commended  him  to  Alexander  for  his  mo 
deration,  that  he  did  not  degenerate,  as  his  other 
lieutenants  did,  into  the  Persian  pride  in  use  of 
purple,  but  kept  the  ancient  habit  of  Macedon,  of 
black;  "True,"  saith  Alexander,  "but  Antipater 
is  all  purple  within."  Or  that  other,  when  Par- 
menio  came  to  him  in  the  plain  of  Arbela,  and 
showed  him  the  innumerable  multitude  of  his 
enemies,  especially  as  they  appeared  by  the  infi 
nite  number  of  lights,  as  it  had  been  a  new  firma 
ment  of  stars,  and  thereupon  advised  him  to  assail 
them  by  night :  whereupon  he  answered,  "  That 
he  would  not  steal  the  victory." 

For  matter  of  policy,  weigh  that  significant 
distinction,  so  much  in  all  ages  embraced,  that  he 
made  between  his  two  friends.  Hephsestion  and 
Craterus,  when  he  said,  "That  the  one  loved  Al 
exander,  and  the  other  loved  the  king:"  describ 
ing  the  principal  difference  of  princes'  best  ser 
vants,  tnat  some  in  affection  love  their  person, 
and  others  in  duty  love  their  crown. 

Weigh  also  that  excellent  taxation  of  an  error, 
ordinary  with  counsellors  of  princes,  that  they 
counsel  tneir  masters  according  to  the  model  of 
their  own  mind  and  fortune,  and  not  of  their  mas 


ters  ;  when,  upon  Darius's  great  offers,  Parmenio 
had  said,  "  Surely  I  would  accept  these  offers, 
were  I  as  Alexander;"  saith  Alexander,  "So 
would  I,  were  I  as  Parmenio." 

Lastly,  weigh  that  quick  and  acute  reply,  which 
he  made  when  he  gave  so  large  gifts  to  his  friends 
and  servants,  and  was  asked  what  he  did  reserve 
for  himself,  and  he  answered,  "  Hope :"  weigh, 
I  say,  whether  he  had  not  cast  up  his  account 
right,  because  hope  must  be  the  portion  of  all  that 
resolve  upon  great  enterprises.  For  this  was 
Ceesar's  portion  when  he  went  first  into  Gaul,  his 
estate  being  then  utterly  overthrown  with  lar 
gesses.  And  this  was  likewise  the  portion  of 
that  noble  prince,  howsoever  transported  with  am 
bition,  Henry,  Duke  of  Guise,  of  whom  it  was 
usually  said,  that  he  was  the  greatest  usurer  in 
France,  because  he  had  turned  all  his  estate  into 
obligations. 

To  conclude  therefore:  as  certain  critics  are 
used  to  say  hyperbolicajly,  "  That  if  all  sciences 
were  lost,  they  might  be  found  in  Virgil ;"  so  cer 
tainly  this  may  be  said  truly,  there  are  the  prints 
and  footsteps  of  learning  in  those  few  speeches 
which  are  reported  of  this  prince  :  the  admiration 
of  whom,  when  I  consider  him  not. as  Alexander 
the  Great,  but  as  Aristotle's  scholar,  hath  carried 
me  too  for. 

As  for  Julius  Csesar,  the  excellency  of  his  learn 
ing  needeth  not  be  argued  from  his  education,  or 
his  company,  or  his  speeches ;  but  in  a  further 
degree  doth  declare  itself  in  his  writings  and 
works  ;  whereof  some  are  extant  and  permanent, 
and  some  unfortunately  perished.  For,  first,  we 
see,  there  is  left  unto  us  that  excellent  history  of 
his  own  wars,  which  he  entitled  only  a  commen 
tary,  wherein  all  succeeding  times  have  admired 
the  solid  weight  of  matter,  and  the  real  passages 
and  lively  images  of  actions  and  persons,  express 
ed  in  the  greatest  propriety  of  words  and  perspi 
cuity  of  narration  that  ever  was;  which  that  it 
was  not  the  effect  of  a  natural  gift,  but  of  learning 
and  precept,  is  well  witnessed  by  that  work  of  his, 
entitled,  "  De  Analogia,"  being  a  grammatical 
philosophy,  wherein  he  did  labour  to  make  this 
same  "vox  ad  placitum"  to  become  "vox  ad  lici- 
tum,"  and  to  reduce  custom  of  speech  to  con- 
gruity  of  speech  ;  and  took,  as  it  were,  the  picture 
of  words  from  the  life  of  reason. 

So  we  receive  from  him,  as  a  monument  both 
of  his  power  and  learning,  the  then  reformed  com 
putation  of  the  year ;  well  expressing,  that  he 
took  it  to  be  as  great  a  glory  to  himself  to  observe 
and  know  the  law  of  the  heavens,  as  to  give  i'aw 
to  men  upon  the  earth. 

So  likewise  in  that  book  of  his,  "  Anti-Cato," 
it  may  easily  appear  that  he  did  aspire  as  well  to 
victory  of  wit  as  victory  of  war ;  undertaking 
therein  a  conflict  against  the  greatest  champion 
with  the  pen  that  then  lived,  Cicero  the  orator. 

So  again   in   his   book    of  "  Apophthegms," 


BOOK  I. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


181 


which  he  collected,  we  see  that  he  esteemed  it 
more  honour  to  make  himself  but  a  pair  of  tables, 
to  take  the  wise  and  pithy  words  of  others,  than 
to  have  every  word  of  his  own  to  be  made  an 
apophthegm  or  an  oracle,  as  vain  princes,  by  cus 
tom  of  flattery,  pretend  to  do.  And  yet  if  I  should 
enumerate  divers  of  his  speeches,  as  I  did  those 
of  Alexander,  they  are  truly  such  as  Solomon 
noteth,  when  he  saith,  "  Verba  sapientum  tan- 
quam  aculei,  et  tanquam  clavi  in  altum  defixi :" 
whereof,  I  will  only  recite  three,  not  so  delect 
able  for  elegancy,  but  admirable  for  vigour  and 
efficacy. 

As,  first,  it  is  reason  he  be  thought  a  master  of 
words,  that  could  with  one  word  appease  a  mutiny 
in  his  army,  which  was  thus  :  The  Romans, 
when  their  generals  did  speak  to  their  army,  did 
use  the  word  "  Milites ;"  but  when  the  magistrates 
spake  to  the  people  they  did  use  the  word  "  Quiri- 
tes."  The  soldiers  were  in  tumult,  and  seditiously 
prayed  to  be  cashiered  ;  not  that  they  so  meant, 
but  by  expostulations  thereof  to  draw  Caesar  to 
other  conditions  ;  wherein  he  being  resolute  not 
to  give  way,  after  some  silence,  he  began  his 
speech,  "  Ego,  Quirites:"  which  did  admit  them 
already  cashiered  ;  wherewith  they  were  so  sur 
prised,  crossed,  and  confused,  as  they  would  not 
suffer  him  to  go  on  in  his  speech,  but  relinquished 
their  demands,  and  made  it  their  suit  to  be  again 
called  by  the  name  of  "  Milites." 

The  second  speech  was  thus  :  Caesar  did  ex 
tremely  affect  the  name  of  king  ;  and  some  were 
set  on,  as  he  passed  by,  in  popular  acclamation 
to  salute  him  king;  whereupon,  finding  theory 
weak  and  poor,  he  put  it  off  thus,  in  a  kind  of  jest, 
as  if  they  had  mistaken  his  surname ;  "  Non  rex 
sum,  sed  Caesar  ;"  a  speech,  that  if  it  be  searched, 
the  life  and  fulness  of  it  can  scarce  be  expressed  : 
for,  first,  it  was  a  refusal  of  the  name,  but  yet  not 
serious  :  again,  it  did  signify  an  infinite  confi 
dence  and  magnanimity,  as  if  he  presumed  Caesar 
was  the  greater  title  ;  as  by  his  worthiness  it  is 
come  to  pass  till  this  day  ;  but  chiefly  it  was  a 
speech  of  great  allurement  toward  his  own  pur 
pose  ;  as  if  the  state  did  strive  with  him  but  for 
a  name,  whereof  mean  families  were  vested  ;  for 
Rex  was  a  surname  with  the  Romans,  as  well  as 
King  is  with  us. 

The  last  speech  which  I  will  mention,  was 
used  to  MeteHus ;  when  Caesar,  after  war  declar 
ed,  did  possess  himself  of  the  city  of  Rome;  at 
which  time  entering  into  the  inner  treasury  to  take 
the  money  there  accumulated,  Metellus,  being  tri 
bune,  forbade  him:  whereto  Ceesar  said,  "That 
if  he  did  not  desist  he  would  lay  him  dead  in  the 
plac.;?.''  And  presently  taking  himself  up,  he 
added,  "  Adolescens,  durius  est  mihi  hoe  dicere 
quam  fisere."  Young  man,  it  is  harder  for  me 
to  speak  than  to  do  it.  A  speech  compounded  of 
the  greatest  terror  and  greatest  clemency  that 
could  proceed  out  of  the  mouth  of  man. 


But  to  return,  and  conclude  with  him :  it  is 
evident,  himself  knew  well  his  own  perfection  in 
learning,  and  took  it  upon  him ;  as  appeared  when, 
upon  occasion  some  spake  what  a  strange  resolu 
tion  it  was  in  Lucius  Sylla  to  resign  his  dictature ; 
he  scoffing  at  him,  to  his  own  advantage,  answer 
ed,  "  That  Sylla  could  not  skill  of  letters,  and 
therefore  knew  not  how  to  dictate." 

And  here  it  were  fit  to  leave  this  point,  touching 
the  concurrence  of  military  virtue  and  learning, 
for  what  example  would  come  with  any  grace 
after  those  two  of  Alexander  and  Caesar  ?  wrere 
it  not  in  regard  of  the  rareness  of  circumstance, 
that  I  find  in  one  other  particular,  as  that  which 
did  so  suddenly  pass  from  extreme  scorn  to  ex 
treme  wonder  ;  and  it  is  of  Xenophon  the  philo 
sopher,  who  went  from  Socrates's  school  into  Asia, 
in  the  expedition  of  Cyrus  the  younger,  against 
King  Artaxerxes.  This  Xenophon  at  that  time 
was  very  young,  and  never  had  seen  the  wars  be 
fore  ;  neither  had  any  command  in  the  army,  but 
only  followed  the  war  as  a  voluntary  for  the  love 
and  conversation  of  Proxenus  his  friend.  He 
was  present  when  Falinus  came  in  message  from 
the  great  king  to  the  Grecians,  after  that  Cyrus 
was  slain  in  the  field,  and  they  a  handful  of  men 
left  to  themselves  in  the  midst  of  the  king's  terri 
tories,  cut  off  from  their  country  by  many  navi 
gable  rivers,  and  many  hundred  miles.  The 
message  imported,  that  they  should  deliver  up 
their  arms,  and  submit  themselves  to  the  king's 
mercy.  To  which  message  before  answer  was 
made,  divers  of  the  army  conferred  familiarly  with 
Falinus :  and  amongst  the  rest  Xenophon  happened 
to  say,  "  Why,  Falinus,  we  have  now  but  these 
two  things  left,  our  arms  and  our  virtue !  and  if  we 
yield  up  our  arms,  how  shall  we  make  use  of  our 
virtue  ?"  Whereto  Falinus,  smiling  on  him,  said, 
"  If  I  be  not  deceived,  young  gentleman,  you  are 
an  Athenian  :  and  I  believe  you  study  philoso 
phy,  and  it  is  pretty  that  you  say  :  but  you  are 
much  abused,  if  you  think  your  virtue  can  with 
stand  the  king's  power."  Here  was  the  scorn  ; 
the  wonder  followed  ;  which  was,  that  this  young 
scholar,  or  philosopher,  after  all  the  captains  were 
murdered  in  parley  by  treason,  conducted  those  ten 
thousand  foot,  through  the  heart  of  all  the  king's 
high  countries,  from  Babylon  to  Gncciain  safety, 
in  despite  of  all  the  king's  forces,  to  the  astonish 
ment  of  the  world,  and  the  encouragement  of  the 
Grecians  in  time  succeeding  to  make  invasion 
I  upon  the  kings  of  Persia  :  as  was  after  purposed 
I  by  Jason  the  Thessalian,  attempted  by  Agesilaus 
the  Spartan,  and  achieved  by  Alexander  the  Ma 
cedonian,  all  upon  the  ground  of  the  act  of  that 
young  scholar. 

To  proceed  now  from  imperial  and  military 
virtue  to  moral  and  private  virtue:  first,  it  is  an 
assured  truth,  which  is  contained  in  the  verses : 

"Scilicet  ingenuas  didicisse  fideliter  artes, 
Emollit  mores,  nee  sinit  esse  feros.  ' 

Q 


182 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  I. 


It  taketh  away  the  wild  ness  and  barbarism  and 
fierceness  of  men's  minds  :  but  indeed  the  accent 
had  need  be  upon  "  fideliter  :"  for  a  little  super 
ficial  learning  doth  rather  work  a  contrary  effect. 
It  taketh  away  all  levity,  temerity,  and  insolency, 
by  copious  suggestion  of  all  doubts  and  difficul 
ties,  and  acquainting  the  mind  to  balance  reasons 
on  both  sides,  and  to  turn  back  the  first  offers  and 
conceits  of  the  mind,  and  to  accept  of  nothing  but 
examined  and  tried.  It  taketh  away  vain  admi 
ration  of  any  thing,  which  is  the  root  of  all  weak 
ness  :  for  all  things  are  admired,  either  because 
they  are  new,  or  because  they  are  great.  For  no 
velty,  no  man  that  wadeth  in  learning  or  contem 
plation  throughly,  but  will  find  that  printed  in  his 
heart,  "  Nil  novi  super  terram."  Neither  can  any 
man  marvel  at  the  play  of  puppets,  that  goeth  be 
hind  the  curtain,  and  adviseth  well  of  the  motion. 
And  for  magnitude,  as  Alexander  the  Great,  after 
that  he  was  used  to  great  armies,  and  the  great 
conquests  of  the  spacious  provinces  in  Asia, 
when  he  received  letters  out  of  Greece,  of  some 
fights  and  services  there,  which  were  commonly 
for  a  passage  or  a  fort,  or  some  walled  town  at  the 
most,  he  said,  "  It  seemed  to  him,  that  he  was 
advertised- of  the  battle  of  the  frogs  and  the  mice, 
that  the  old  tales  went  of."  So  certainly,  if  a  man 
meditate  much  upon  the  universal  frame  of  na 
ture,  the  earth  with  men  upon  it,  (the  divineness 
of  souls  except,)  will  not  seem  much  other  than 
an  ant-hill,  where  as  some  ants  carry  corn,  and 
some  carry  their  young,  and  some  go  empty,  and 
all  to-and-fro  a  little  heap  of  dust.  It  taketh  away 
or  mitigateth  fear  of  death,  or  adverse  fortune ; 
which  is  one  of  the  greatest  impediments  of  virtue, 
and  imperfections  of  manners.  For  if  a  man's 
mind  be  deeply  seasoned  with  the  consideration 
of  the  mortality  and  corruptible  nature  of  things, 
be  will  easily  concur  with  Epictetus,  who  went 
forth  one  day  and  saw  a  woman  weeping  for  her 
pitcher  of  earth  that  was  broken ;  and  went  forth 
the  next  day  and  saw  a  woman  weeping  for  her 
son  that  was  dead :  and  thereupon  said,  "  Heri 
vidi  fragilem  frangi,  hodie  vidi  mortalem  mori." 
And  therefore  Virgil  did  excellently  and  profound 
ly  couple  the  knowledge  of  causes  and  the  con 
quest  of  all  fears  together,  as  "  concomitantia  :" 

"Felix,  qui  potuit  rerum  cngnoscere  catisas, 
Quique  nietus  oinnes,  et  inexorabile  fatuni 
Subjecit  pedibus,  strepitumque  Acherontis  avari." 

It  were  too  long  to  go  over  the  particular  reme 
dies  which  learning  doth  minister  to  all  the  dis 
eases  of  the  mind ;  sometimes  purging  the  ill- 
humours,  sometimes  opening  tbe  obstructions, 
sometimes  helping  digestion,  sometimes  increas 
ing  appetite,  sometimes  healing  the  wounds  and 
exulcerations  thereof,  and  the  like ;  and  therefore 
I  will  conclude  with  that  which  hath  "  rationem 
totius,"  which  is,  that  it  disposeth  the  constitu 
tion  of  the  mind  not  to  be  fixed  or  settled  in  the 
defects  thereof,  but  still  to  be  capable  and  suscep 


tible  of  growth  and  reformation.  For  the  un 
learned  man  knows  not  what  it  is  to  descend  into 
himself,  or  to  call  himself  to  account;  nor  the 
pleasure  of  that  "  suavissima  vita,  indies  sentire 
se  fieri  meliorem."  The  good  parts  he  hath  he 
will  learn  to  show  to  the  full,  and  use  them  dex 
terously,  but  not  much  to  increase  them;  the 
faults  he  hath  he  will  learn  how  to  hide  and 
colour  them,  but  not  much  to  .amend  them  :  like 
an  ill  mower,  that  -mows  on  still,  and  never  whets 
his  scythe.  Whereas  with  the  learned  man  it 
fares  otherwise,  that  he  doth  ever  intermix  the 
correction  and  amendment  of  his  mind  with  the 
use  and  employment  thereof.  Nay  further,  in 
general  and  in  sum,  certain  it  is  that  "  veritas" 
and  "  bonitas"  differ  but  as  the  seal  and  the  print : 
for  truth  prints  goodness ;  and  they  be  the  clouds 
of  error  which  descend  in  the  storms  of  passions 
and  perturbations. 

From  moral  virtue  let  us  pass  on  to  matter  of 
power  and  commandment,  and  consider  whether 
in  right  reason  there  be  any  comparable  with 
that  wherewith  knowledge  investeth  and  crown- 
eth  man's  nature.  We  see  the  dignity  of  the 
commandment  is  according  to  the  dignity  of  the 
commanded  :  to  have  commandment  over  beasts, 
as  herdsmen  have,  is  a  thing  contemptible;  to 
have  commandment  over  children,  as  schoolmas 
ters  have,  is  a  matter  of  small  honour;  to  have 
commandment  over  galley-slaves  is  a  disparage 
ment  rather  than  an  honour.  Neither  is  the  com  • 
mandment  of  tyrants  much  better,  over  people 
which  have  put  off  the  generosity  of  their  minds  : 
and  therefore  it  was  ever  holden  that  honours  in 
free  monarchies  and  commonwealths  had  a  sweet 
ness  more  than  in  tyrannies ;  because  the  com 
mandment  extendeth  more  over  the  wills  of  men, 
and  not  only  over  their  deeds  and  services.  And 
therefore,  when  Virgil  putteth  himself  forth  to 
attribute  to  Augustus  Csesar  the  best  of  human 
honours,  he  doth  it  in  these  words  : 

"  victorque  volentes 
Per  populos  dat  jura,  viamque  affectat  Olyinpo." 

But  the  commandment  of  knowledge  is  yet  higher 
than  the  commandment  over  the  will;  for  it  is  a 
commandment  over  the  reason,  belief,  and  under 
standing  of  man,  which  is  the  highest  part  of  the 
mind,  and  giveth  law  to  the  will  itself:  for  there 
is  no  power  on  earth  which  setteth  up  a  throne  or 
chair  of  state  in  the  spirits  and  souls  of  men,  and 
in  their  cogitations,  imaginations,  opinions,  and 
beliefs,  but  knowledge  and  learning.  And  there 
fore  we  see  the  detestable  and  extreme  pleasure 
that  arch-heretics,  and  false  prophets,  and  impos 
tors  are  transported  with,  when  they  once  find  l» 
themselves  that  they  have  a  superiority  in  th*. 
faith  and  conscience  of  men ;  so  great,  that,  ii 
they  have  once  tasted  of  it,  it  is  seldom  seen  thai 
any  torture  or  persecution  can  make  them  relin 
quish  or  abandon  it.  But  as  this  is  that  which 
the  author  of  the  »  Revelation"  calleth  the  depth 


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ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


183 


or  profoundness  "  of  Satan  ;"  so  by  argument  of 
contraries,  the  just  and  lawful  sovereignty  over 
men's  understanding,  by  force  of  truth  rightly  in 
terpreted,  is  that  which  approacheth  nearest  to  the 
similitude  of  the  divine  rule. 

As  for  fortune  and  advancement,  the  beneficence 
of  learning  is  not  so  confined  to  give  fortune  only 
to  states  and  commonwealths,  as  it  doth  not  like 
wise  give  fortune  to  particular  persons.  For  it 
was  well  noted  long  ago,  that  Homer  hath  given 
more  men  their  livings,  than  either  Sylla,  or 
Ceesar,  or  Augustus  ever  did,  notwithstanding 
their  great  largesses  and  donatives,  and  distribu 
tions  of  lands  to  so  many  legions  :  and  no  doubt 
it  is  hard  to  say,  whether  arms  or  learning  have 
advanced  greater  numbers.  And  in  case  of 
sovereignty  we  see,  that  if  arms  or  descent  have 
carried  away  the  kingdom,  yet  learning  hath 
carried  the  priesthood,  which  ever  hath  been  in 
some  competition  with  empire. 

Again,  for  the  pleasure  and  delight  of  know 
ledge  and  learning,  it  far  surpasseth  all  other  in 
nature :  for,  shall  the  pleasures  of  the  affections 
so  exceed  the  senses,  as  much  as  the  obtaining 
of  desire  or  victory  exceedeth  a  song  or  a  dinner ; 
and  must  not,  of  consequence,  the  pleasures  of 
the  intellect  or  understanding  exceed  the  plea 
sures  of  the  affections'?  We  see  in  all  other 
pleasures  there  is  satiety,  and  after  they  be  used, 
their  verdure  departeth ;  which  shcweth  well  they 
be  but  deceits  of  pleasure,  and  not  pleasures ; 
and  that  it  was  the  novelty  which  pleased,  and 
not  the  quality :  and  therefore  we  see  that  volup 
tuous  men  turn  friars,  and  ambitious  princes  turn 
melancholy.  But  of  knowledge  there  is  no 
satiety,  but  satisfaction  and  appetite  are  per 
petually  interchangeable;  and  therefore  appear- 
eth  to  be  good  in  itself  simply,  without  fallacy  or 
accident.  Neither  is  that  pleasure  of  small  effi 
cacy  and  contentment  to  the  mind  of  man,  which 
the  poet  Lucretius  describeth  elegantly, 

"  Suave  mari  magno,  turbantibus  sequora  ventis,"  &c. 

"It  is  a  view  of  delight,"  saith  he,  "to  stand 
or  walk  upon  the  shore  side,  and  to  see  a  ship 
tossed  with  tempest  upon  the  sea ;  or  to  be  in  a 
fortified  tower,  and  to  see  two  battles  join  upon  a 
plain;  but  it  is  pleasure  incomparable,  for  the 
mind  of  man  to  be  settled,  landed  and  fortified  in 
the  certainty  of  truth;  and  from  thence  to  descry 
and  behold  the  errors,  perturbations,  labours,  and 
wanderings  up  and  down  of  other  men." 

Lastly,  leaving  the  vulgar  arguments,  that  by 
learning  man  excelleth  man  in  that  wherein  man 
excelleth  beasts ;  that  by  learning  man  ascendeth 
to  the  heavens  and  their  motions,  where  in  body 
he  cannot  come,  and  the  like ;  let  us  conclude 
with  the  dignity  and  excellency  of  knowledge  and 
learning  in  that  whereunto  man's  -nature  doth 
most  aspire,  which  is,  immortality  or  continu 
ance:  for  to  this  tendeth  generation,  and  raising 


of  houses  and  families ;  to  rhis  ouildings,  foun 
dations,  and  monuments;  to  this  tendeth  the  de 
sire  of  memory,  fame,  and  celebration,  and  in 
effect  the  strength  of  all  other  human  desires. 
We  see  then  how  far  the  monuments  of  wit  and 
learning  are  more  durable  than  the  monuments  of 
power  or  of  the  hands.  For  have  not  the  verses 
of  Homer  continued  twenty-five  hundred  years, 
or  more,  without  the  loss  of  a  syllable,  or  letter ; 
during  which  time,  infinite  palaces,  temples,  cas 
tles,  cities,  have  been  decayed  and  demolished  ] 
It  is  not  possible  to  have  the  true  pictures  or  sta 
tues  of  Cyrus,  Alexander,  Caesar;  no  nor  of  the 
kings  or  great  personages  of  much  later  years ; 
for  the  originals  cannot  last,  and  the  copies  cannot 
but  lose  of  the  life  and  truth.  But  the  images  of 
men's  wits  and  knowledges  remain  in  books,  ex-  ' 
empted  from  the  wrong  of  time,  and  capable  of 
perpetual  renovation.  Neither  are  they  fitly  to  be 
called  images,  because  they  generate  still,  and 
cast  their  seeds  in  the  minds  of  others,  provoking 
and  causing  infinite  actions  and  opinions  in  suc 
ceeding  ages  :  so  that,  if  the  invention  of  the  ship 
was  thought  so  noble,  which  carrieth  riches  and 
commodities  from  place  to  place,  and  consociateth 
the  most  remote  regions  in  participation  of  their 
fruits,  how  much  more  are  letters  to  be  magnified, 
which,  as  ships,  pass  through  the  vast  seas  of 
time,  and  make  ages  so  distant  to  participate  of 
the  wisdom,  illuminations,  and  inventions,  the  ^ 
one  of  the  other]  Nay  further,  we  see,  some 
of  the  philosophers  which  were  Least  divine,  and 
most  immersed  in  the  senses,  and  denied  gene 
rally  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  yet  came  to  this 
point,  that  whatsoever  motions  the  spirit  of  man 
could  act  and  perform  without  the  organs  of  the 
body,  they  thought,  might  remain  after  death, 
which  were  only  those  of  the  understanding,  and 
not  of  the  affections ;  so  immortal  and  incorrupti 
ble  a  thing  did  knowledge  seem  unto  them  to  be. 
But  we,  that  know  by  divine  revelation,  that  not 
only  the  understanding  but  the  affections  purified, 
not  only  the  spirit  but  the  body  changed,  shall  be 
advanced  to  immortality,  do  disclaim  these  rudi 
ments  of  the  senses.  But  it  must  be  remembered 
both  in  this  last  point,  and  so  it  may  likewise  be 
needful  in  other  places,  that  in  probation  of  the 
dignity  of  knowledge  or  learning,  I  did  in  the 
beginning  separate  divine  testimony  from  human, 
which  method  I  have  pursued,  and  so  handled 
them  both  apart. 

Nevertheless,  I  do  not  pretend,  and  I  know  it 
ll  be  impossible  for  me,  by  any  pleading  of 
mine,  to  reverse  the  judgment,  either  of  J£> sop's 
cock,  that  preferred  the  barleycorn  before  the  gem; 
or  of  Midas,  that  being  chosen  judge  between 
Apollo  president  of  the  Muses,  and  Pan  god  of  the 
flocks,  judged  for  plenty;  or  of  Paris,  that  judged 
for  beauty  and  love  against  wisdom  and  power ;  nor 
of  Agrippina,  "  occidat  matrem,  modo  imperet," 
that  preferred  empire  with  conditions  never  so  do- 


184 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


testable ;  or  of  Ulysses,  "  qui  vetulam  preetulit  im- 
mortalitati,"  being  a  figure  of  those  which  prefer 
custom  and  habit  before  all  excellency ;  or  of  a 
number  of  the  like  popular  judgments.  For  these 


things  continue  as  they  have  been :  but  so  will  that 
also  continue  whereupon  learning  hath  ever  relied, 
and  which  faileth  not :  "  Justifi cata .  est  sapientia 
a  filiis  suis." 


THE  SECOND  BOOK 


OF 


FRANCIS     BACON, 

OF    THE 

PROFICIENCE  AND  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING, 

DIVINE  AND  HUMAN. 


TO  THE  KING. 


IT  might  seem  to  have  more  convenience,  though 
it  come  often  otherwise  to  pass,  excellent  king, 
that  those  which  are  fruitful  in  their  generations, 
and  have  in  themselves  the  foresight  of  immor 
tality  in  their  descendants,  should  likewise  be 
more  careful  of  the  good  estate  of  future  times, 
unto  which  they  know  they  must  transmit  and 
commend  over  their  dearest  pledges.  Queen 
Elizabeth  was  a  sojourner  in  the  world,  in  respect 
of  her  unmarried  life,  and  was  a  blessing  to  her 
own  times :  and  yet  so  as  the  impression  of  her 
good  government,  besides  her  happy  memory,  is 
not  without  some  effect  which  doth  survive  her. 
But  to  your  majesty,  whom  God  hath  already 
blessed  with  so  much  royal  issue,  worthy  to  con 
tinue  and  represent  you  forever;  and  whose 
youthful  and  fruitful  bed  doth  yet  promise  many 
of  the  like  renovations ;  it  is  proper  and  agree 
able  to  be  conversant,  not  only  in  the  transitory 
parts  of  good  government,  but  in  those  acts  also 
which  are  in  their  nature  permanent  and  perpetual : 
amongst  the  which,  if  affection  do  not  transport 
me,  there  is  not  any  more  worthy  than  the  further 
endowment  of  the  world  with  sound  and  fruitful 
knowledge.  For  why  should  a  few  received 
authors  stand  up  like  Hercules's  columns,  beyond 
which  there  should  be  no  sailing  or  discovering, 
since  we  have  so  bright  and  benign  a  star  as  your 
majesty  to  conduct  and  prosper  us  ]  To  return 
therefore  where  we  left,  it  remaineth  to  consider 
of  what  kind  those  acts  are,  which  have  been 


undertaken  and  performed  by  kings  and  others 
for  the  increase  and  advancement  of  learning : 
wherein  I  purpose  to  speak  actively  without  di 
gressing  or  dilating. 

Let  this  ground  therefore  be  laid,  that  all  works 
are  overcome  by  amplitude  of  reward,  by  sound 
ness  of  direction,  and  by  the  conjunction  of 
labours.  The  first  multiplieth  endeavour,  the 
second  preventeth  error,  and  the  third  supplieth 
the  frailty  of  man:  but  the  principal  of  these  is 
direction:  for  "claudus  in  via  antevertit  cursorern 
extra  viam ;"  and  Solomon  excellently  setteth  it 
down,  "If  the  iron  be  not  sharp,  it  requireth 
more  strength ;  but  wisdom  is  that  which  prevail- 
eth  ;"  signifying  that  the  invention  or  election  of 
the  mean  is  more  effectual  than  any  enforcement 
or  accumulation  of  endeavours.  This  I  am  in 
duced  to  speak,  for  that  (not  derogating  from  the 
noble  intention  of  any  that  have  been  deserve! s 
towards  the  state  of  learning)  I  do  observe,  never 
theless,  that  their  works  and  acts  are  rather  mat 
ters  of  magnificence  and  memory,  than  of  pro 
gression  and  proficience ;  and  tend  rather  to  aug 
ment  the  mass  of  learning  in  the  multitude  of 
learned  men,  than  to  rectify  or  raise  the  sciences 
themselves. 

The  works  or  acts  of  merit  towards  learning 
are  conversant  about  three  objects  :  the  places  of 
learning,  the  books  of  learning,  and  the  persons 
of  the  learned.  For  as  water,  whether  it  be  the 
dew  of  heaven,  or  the  springs  of  the  earth,  doth 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


185 


scatter  and  lose  itself  in  the  ground,  except  it  be 
collected  into  some  receptacle,  where  it  may  by 
union  comfort  and  sustain  itself,  (and  for  that 
cause  the  industry  of  man  hath  made  and  framed 
spring-heads,  conduits,  cisterns,  and  pools,  which 
men  have  accustomed  likewise  to  beautify  and 
adorn  with  accomplishments  of  magnificence  and 
state,  as  well  as  of  use  and  necessity,)  so  this 
excellent  liquor  of  knowledge,  whether  it  descend 
from  divine  inspiration,  or  spring  from  human 
sense,  would  soon  perish  and  vanish  to  oblivion, 
if  it  were  not  preserved  in  books,  traditions,  con 
ferences,  and  places  appointed,  as  universities, 
colleges,  and  schools,  for  the  receipt  and  comfort 
ing  of  the  same. 

The  works  which  concern  the  seats  and  places 
of  learning  are  four;  foundations  and  buildings, 
endowments  with  revenues,  endowments  with 
franchises  and  privileges,  institutions  and  ordi 
nances  for  government;  all  tending  to  quietness 
and  privateness  of  life,  and  discharge  of  cares 
and  troubles ;  much  like  the  stations  which  Virgil 
prescribeth  for  the  hiving  of  bees  : 

"Principle  sedes  apibus  statioque  petenda, 
Quo  neque  sit  ventis  aditus,"  <fcc. 

The  works  touching  books  are  two ;  first  libra 
ries,  which  are  as  the  shrines  where  all  the  relics 
of  the  ancient  saints,  full  of  true  virtue,  and  that 
without  delusion  or  imposture,  are  preserved  and 
reposed :  secondly,  new  editions  of  authors,  with 
more  correct  impressions,  more  faithful  transla 
tions,  more  profitable  glosses,  more  diligent 
annotations,  and  the  like. 

The  works  pertaining  to  the  persons  of  learned 
men,  besides  the  advancement  and  countenancing 
of  them  in  general,  are  two  :  the  reward  and  de 
signation  of  readers  in  sciences  already  extant 
and  invented ;  and  the  reward  and  designation  of 
writers  and  inquirers  concerning  any  parts  of 
learning  not  sufficiently  laboured  and  prosecuted. 

These  are  summarily  the  works  and  acts, 
wherein  the  merits  of  many  excellent  princes  and 
other  worthy  personages  have  been  conversant. 
As  for  any  particular  commemorations,  I  call  to 
mind  what  Cicero  said,  when  he  gave  general 
thanks;  "Difficile  non  aliquem,  ingratum,  quen- 
quam  prseterire."  Let  us  rather,  according  to  the 
Scriptures,  look  unto  that  part  of  the  race  which 
is  before  us,  than  look  back  to  that  which  is 
already  attained. 

First,  therefore,  amongst  so  many  great  founda 
tions  of  colleges  in  Europe,  I  find  it  strange  that 
they  are  all  dedicated  to  professions,  and  none 
left  free  to  arts  and  sciences  at  large.  For  if  men 
judge  that  learning  should  be  referred  to  action, 
they  judge  well  ;  but  in  this  they  fall  into  the 
error  described  in  the  ancient  fable,  in  which  the 
other  parts  of  the  body  did  suppose  the  stomach 
had  been  idle,  because  it  neither  performed  the 
office  of  motion,  as  the  limbs  do,  nor  of  sense,  as 
VOL.  I — 24 


the  head  doth ;  but  yet,  notwithstanding,  it  is  the 
stomach  that  digesteth  and  distributeth  to  all  the 
rest :  so  if  any  man  think  philosophy  and  univer 
sality  to  be  idle  studies,  he  doth  not  consider  that 
all  professions  are  from  thence  served  and  sup 
plied.  And  this  I  take  to  be  a  great  cause  that 
hath  hindered  the  progression  of  learning,  because 
these  fundamental  knowledges  have  been  studied 
but  in  passage.  For  if  you  will  have  a  tree  bear 
more  fruit  than  it  hath  used  to  do,  it  is  not  any  thing 
you  can  do  to  the  boughs,  but  it  is  the  stirring  of 
the  earth,  and  putting  new  mould  about  the  roots, 
that  must  work  it.  Neither  is  it  to  be  forgotten, 
that  this  dedicating  of  foundations  and  donations 
to  professory  learning  hath  not  only  had  a  malign 
aspect  and  influence  upon  the  growth  of  sciences, 
but  hath  also  been  prejudicial  to  states  and  go 
vernments.  For  hence  it  proceedeth  that  princes 
find  a  solitude  in  regard  of  able  men  to  serve  them 
in  causes  of  state,  because  there  is  no  education 
collegiate  which  is  free ;  where  such  as  were  so 
disposed  might  give  themselves  to  histories, 
modern  languages,  books  of  policy  and  civil  dis 
course,  and  other  the  like  enablements  unto  ser 
vice  of  estate. 

And  because  founders  of  colleges  do  plant,  and 
founders  of  lectures  do  water,  it  followeth  well 
in  order  to  speak  of  the  defect  which  is  in  public 
lectures ;  namely,  in  the  smallness  and  meanness 
of  the  salary  or  reward  which  in  most  places  is 
assigned  unto  them ;  whether  they  be  lectures  of 
arts,  or  of  professions.  For  it  is  necessary  to  the 
progression  of  sciences  that  readers  be  of  the  most 
able  and  sufficient  men ;  as  those  which  are  or 
dained  for  generating  and  propagating  of  sciences, 
and  not  for  transitory  use.  This  cannot  be,  except 
their  condition  and  endowment  be  such  as  may 
content  the  ablest  man  to  appropriate  his  whole 
labour,  and  continue  his  whole  age  in  that  function 
and  attendance ;  and  therefore  must  have  a  pro 
portion  answerable  to  that  mediocrity  or  compe 
tency  of  advancement,  which  may  be  expected 
from  a  profession  or  the  practice  of  a  profession. 
So  as,  if  you  will  have  sciences  flourish,  you 
must  observe  David's  military  law,  which  was, 
"  That  those  which  stayed  with  the  carriage  should 
have  equal  part  with  those  which  were  in  the  ac 
tion  ;"  else  will  the  carriages  be  ill  attended.  So 
readers  in  sciences  are  indeed  the  guardians  of 
the  stores  and  provisions  of  sciences,  whence) 
men  in  active  courses  are  furnished,  and  therefore 
ouo-ht  to  have  equal  entertainment  with  them; 
otherwise  if  the  fathers  in  sciences  be  of  the 
weakest  sort,  or  be  ill-maintained, 

"  Et  patrum  invalid!  referent  jejunia  nati." 

Another  defect  I  note,  wherein  I  shall  need 
some  alchymist  to  help  me,  who  call  upon  men 
to  sell  their  books,  and  to  build  furnaces ;  quitting 
and  forsaking  Minerva  and  the  Muses  as  barren 
virgins,  and  relying  upon  Vulcan,  But  certain  r4 


186 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


is,  that  unto  the  deep,  fruitful,  and  operative  study 
of  many  sciences,  especially  natural  philosophy 
and  physic,  books  be  not  the  only  instrumental ; 
wherein  also  the  beneficence  of  men  hath  not 
been  altogether  wanting:  for  we  see  spheres, 
globes,  astrolabes,  maps,  and  the  like,  have  been 
provided  as  appurtenances  to  astronomy  and  cos 
mography,  as  well  as  books  :  we  see  likewise, 
that  some  places  instituted  for  physic  have  an 
nexed  the  commodity  of  gardens  for  simples  of 
all  sorts,  and  do  likewise  command  the  use  of 
dead  bodies  for  anatomies.  But  these  do  respect 
but  a  few  things.  In  general,  there  will  hardly 
be  any  main  proficience  in  the  disclosing  of  na 
ture,  except  there  be  some  allowance  for  expenses 
about  experiments ;  whether  they  may  be  expe 
riments  appertaining  to  Vulcanus  or  Daedalus, 
furnace  or  engine,  or  any  other  kind  ;  and  there 
fore  as  secretaries  and  spials  of  princes  and  states 
bring  in  bills  for  intelligence,  so  you  must  allow 
the  spials  and  intelligencers  of  nature  to  bring  in 
their  bills ;  or  else  you  shall  be  ill  advertised. 

And  if  Alexander  made  such  a  liberal  assigna 
tion  to  Aristotle  of  treasure  for  the  allowance  of 
hunters,  fowlers,  fishers,  and  the  like,  that  he 
might  compile  an  history  of  nature,  much  better 
do  they  deserve  it  that  travail  in  arts  of  nature. 

Another  defect  which  I  note,  is  an  intermission 
or  neglect  in  those  which  are  governors  in  uni 
versities,  of  consultation ;  and  in  princes  or  su 
perior  persons,  of  visitation :  to  enter  into  account 
and  consideration,  whether  the  readings,  exer 
cises,  and  other  customs  appertaining  unto  learn 
ing,  anciently  begun,  and  since  continued,  be  well 
instituted  or  not;  and  thereupon  to  ground  an 
amendment  or  reformation  in  that  which  shall  be 
found  inconvenient.  For  it  is  one  of  your  ma 
jesty's  own  most  wise  and  princely  maxims, 
"That  in  all  usages  and  precedents,  the  times  be 
considered  wherein  they  first  began;  which,  if 
they  were  weak  or  ignorant,  it  derogateth  from 
the  authority  of  the  usage,  and  leaveth  it  for 
suspect."  And  therefore  in  as  much  as  most  of 
the  usages  and  orders  of  the  universities  were 
derived  from  more  obscure  times,  it  is  the  more 
requisite  they  be  re-examined.  In  this  kind  I 
will  give  an  instance  or  two,  for  example  sake, 
of  things  that  are  the  most  obvious  and  familiar  : 
the  one  is  a  matter,  which  though  it  be  ancient 
and  general,  yet  I  hold  to  be  an  error;  which  is, 
that  scholars  in  universities  come  too  soon  and 
too  unripe  to  logic  and  rhetoric,  arts  fitter  for 
graduates  than  children  and  novices  :  for  these 
two,  rightly  taken,  are  the  gravest  of  sciences, 
being  the  art  of  arts ;  the  one  for  judgment,  the 
other  for  ornament :  and  they  be  the  rules  and 
directions  how  to  set  forth  and  dispose  matter; 
and  therefore  for  minds  empty  and  unfraught 
with  matter,  and  which  have  not  gathered  that 
which  Cicero  calleth  "  sylva"  and  "  supellex," 
etuflf  and  variety,  to  begin  with  those  arts,  (as  if 


one  should  learn  to  weigh,  or  to  measure,  or  to 
paint  the  wind,)  doth  work  but  this  effect,  that 
the  wisdom  of  those  arts,  which  is  great  and  uni 
versal,  is  almost  made  contemptible,  and  is  dege 
nerate  into  childish  sophistry  and  ridiculous  affec 
tation.  And  further,  the  untimely  learning  of 
them  hath  drawn  on,  by  consequence,  the  super 
ficial  and  unprofitable  teaching  and  writing  of 
them,  as  fittest  indeed  to  the  capacity  of  children. 
Another  is  a  lack  I  find  in  the  exercises  used  in 
the  universities,  which  do  make  too  great  a  di 
vorce  between  invention  and  memory;  for  their 
speeches  are  either  premeditate,  "  in  verbis  con- 
ceptis,"  where  nothing  is  left  to  invention ;  or 
merely  extemporal,  where  little  is  left  to  memory  : 
whereas  in  life  and  action  there  is  least  use  of 
either  of  these,  but  rather  of  intermixtures  of 
premeditation  and  invention,  notes  and  memory  ; 
so  as  the  exercise  fitteth  not  the  practice,  nor  the 
image  the  life  :  and  it  is  ever  a  true  rule  in  exer 
cises,  that  they  be  framed  as  near  as  may  be  to 
the  life  of  practice ;  for  otherwise  they  do  per 
vert  the  motions  and  faculties  of  the  mind,  and 
not  prepare  them.  The  truth  whereof  is  not  ob 
scure,  when  scholars  come  to  the  practices  of 
professions,  or  other  actions  of  civil  life  ;  which 
when  they  set  into,  this  want  is  soon  found  by 
themselves,  and  sooner  by  others.  But  this  part, 
touching  the  amendment  of  the  institutions  and 
orders  of  universities,  I  will  conclude  with  the 
clause  of  Caesar's  letter  to  Oppius  and  Balbus, 
"  Hoc  quemadmodum  fieri  possit,  nonnulla  mihi 
in  mentem  veniunt,  et  multa  reperiri  possunt;  de 
iis  rebus  rogo  vos,  ut  cogitationem  suscipiatis." 

Another  defect,  which  I  note,  ascendeth  a  little 
higher  than  the  preceding  :  for  as  the  proficience 
of  learning  consisteth  much  in  the  orders  and  in 
stitutions  of  universities  in  the  same  states  and 
kingdoms,  so  it  would  be  yet  more  advanced,  if 
there  were  more  intelligence  mutual  between  the 
universities  of  Europe  than  now  there  is.  We 
see  there  be  many  orders  and  foundations,  which 
though  they  be  divided  under  several  sovereign 
ties  and  territories,  yet  they  take  themselves  to 
have  a  kind  of  contract,  fraternity,  and  corres 
pondence  one  with  the  other ;  insomuch  as  they 
have  provincials  and  generals.  And  surely,  as 
nature  createth  brotherhood  in  families,  and  arts 
mechanical  contract  brotherhoods  in  commonal 
ties,  and  the  anointment  of  God  superinduceth  a 
brotherhood  in  kings  and  bishops ;  so  in  like 
manner  there  cannot  but  be  a  fraternity  in  learn 
ing  and  illumination,  relating  to  that  fraternity 
which  is  attributed  to  God,  who  is  called  the  Fa 
ther  of  illuminations  or  lights. 

The  last  defect  which  I  will  note  is,  that  there 
hath  not  been,  or  very  rarely  been,  any  public 
designation  of  writers  or  inquirers  concerning 
such  parts  of  knowledge  as  may  appear  not  to 
have  been  already  sufficiently  laboured  or  under 
taken  ;  unto  which  point  it  is  an  inducement  to 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


187 


enter  into  a  view  and  examination  what  parts  of 
learning  have  been  prosecuted,  and  what  omitted : 
for  the  opinion  of  plenty  is  amongst  the  causes 
of  want,  and  the  great  quantity  of  books  maketh 
a  show  rather  of  superfluity  than  lack ;  which 
surcharge,  nevertheless,  is  not  to  be  remedied  by 
making  no  more  books,  but  by  making  more  good 
books,  which,  as  the  serpent  of  Moses,  might 
devour  the  serpents  of  the  enchanters. 

The  removing  of  all  the  defects  formerly  enu 
merated,  except  the  last,  and  of  the  active  part 
also  of  the  last,  (which  is  the  designation  of  wri 
ters,)  are  "opera  basilica;"  towards  which  the 
endeavours  of  a  private  man  may  be  but  as  an 
image  in  a  crossway,  that  may  point  at  the  way, 
but  cannot  go  it :  but  the  inducing  part  of  the  lat 
ter,  which  is  the  survey  of  learning,  may  be  set 
forward  by  private  travel.  Wherefore  I  will  now 
attempt  to  make  a  general  and  faithful  perambu 
lation  of  learning,  with  an  inquiry  what  parts 
thereof  lie  fresh  and  waste,  and  not  improved  and 
converted  by  the  industry  of  man ;  to  the  end  that 
such  a  plot,  made  and  recorded  to  memory,  may 
both  minister  light  to  any  public  designation,  and 
also  serve  to  excite  voluntary  endeavours  :  where 
in,  nevertheless,  my  purpose  is,  at  this  time,  to 
note  only  omissions  and  deficiencies,  and  not  to 
make  any  redargution  of  errors,  or  incomplete 
prosecutions ;  for  it  is  one  thing  to  set  forth  what 
ground  lieth  unmanured,  and  another  thing  to  cor 
rect  ill  husbandry  in  that  which  is  manured. 

In  the  handling  and  undertaking  of  which  work 
I  am  not  ignorant  what  it  is  that  I  do  now  move 
and  attempt,  nor  insensible  of  mine  own  weak 
ness  to  sustain  my  purpose ;  but  my  hope  is  that 
if  my  extreme  love  to  learning  carry  me  too  far, 
I  may  obtain  the  excuse  of  affection;  for  that  "it 
is  not  granted  to  man  to  love  and  to  be  wise." 
But,  I  know  well,  I  can  use  no  other  liberty  of 
judgment  than  I  must  leave  to  others  ;  and  I,  for 
my  part,  shall  be  indifferently  glad  either  to  per 
form  myself,  or  accept  from  another,  that  duty  of 
humanity:  "Nam  qui  erranti  comiter  monstrat 
viam,"  &c.  I  do  foresee,  likewise,  that  of  those 
things  which  I  shall  enter  and  register  as  defi 
ciencies  and  omissions,  many  will  conceive  and 
censure  that  some  of  them  are  already  done  and 
extant;  others  to  be  but  curiosities,  and  things 
of  no  great  use ;  and  others  to  be  of  too  great 
difficulty,  and  almost  impossibility  to  be  com 
passed  and  effected  :  but  for  the  two  first,  I  refer 
myself  to  the  particulars ;  for  the  last,  touching 
impossibility,  I  take  it  those  things  are  to  be  held 
possible  which  may  be  done  by  some  person, 
though  not  by  every  one;  and  which  may  be  done 
by  many,  though  not  by  any  one ;  and  which  may 
be  done  in  the  succession  of  ages,  though  not 
within  the  hourglass  of  one  man's  life ;  and 
which  may  be  done  by  public  designation,  though  I 
not  by  private  endeavour.  But,  notwithstanding, 
if  any  man  will  take  to  himself  rather  that  of  So 


lomon,  "  Dicit  piger,  Leo  est  in  via,"  than  that 
of  Virgil,  "  Possunt  quia  posse  videntur,"  I  shall 
be  content  that  my  labours  be  esteemed  but  as  the 
better  sort  of  wishes;  for  as  it  asketh  some 
knowledge  to  demand  a  question  not  impertinent, 
so  it  requireth  some  sense  to  make  a  wish  not 
absurd. 

The  parts  of  human  learning  have  reference  to 
the  three  parts  of  Man's  Understanding,  which  is 
the  seat  of  learning:  History  to  his  Memory, 
Poesy  to  his  Imagination,  and  Philosophy  to  his 
Reason.  Divine  learning  receiveth  the  same  dis 
tribution;  for  the  spirit  of  man  is  the  same, 
though  the  revelation  of  oracle  and  sense  be  di 
verse  :  so  as  theology  consisteth  also  of  the  his 
tory  of  the  church;  of  parables,  which  is  divine 
poesy ;  and  of  holy  doctrine  or  precept :  for  as  for 
that  part  which  seemeth  supernumerary,  which  is 
prophecy,  it  is  but  divine  history ;  which  hath  that 
prerogative  over  human,  as  the  narration  may  be 
before  the  fact  as  well  as  after. 

History  is  Natural,  Civil,  Ecclesiastical,  and 
Literary ;  whereof  the  first  three  I  allow  as  extant, 
the  fourth  I  note  as  deficien^  For  no  man  hath 
propounded  to  himself  the  general  state  of  learn 
ing  to  be  described  and  represented  from  age  to 
age,  as  many  have  done  the  works  of  nature,  and 
the  state  civil  and  ecclesiastical ;  without  which 
the  history  of  the  world  seemeth  to  me  to  be  as 
the  statue  of  Polyphemus  with  his  eye  out :  that 
part  being  wanting  which  doth  most  show  the 
spirit  and  life  of  the  person :  and  yet  I  am  not  ig 
norant  that  in  divers  particular  sciences,  as  of  the 
jurisconsults,  the  mathematicians,  the  rhetori 
cians,  the  philosophers,  there  are  set  down  some 
small  memorials  of  the  schools,  authors,  and 
books ;  and  so  likewise  some  barren  relations 
touching  the  invention  of  arts  or  usages.  But  a 
just  story  of  learning,  containing  the  antiquities 
and  originals  of  knowledges  and  their  sects,  their 
inventions,  their  traditions,  their  diverse  adminis 
trations  and  managings,  their  flourishings,  their 
oppositions,  decays,  depressions,  oblivions,  re 
moves,  with  the  causes  and  occasions  of  them, 
and  all  other  events  concerning  learning,  through 
out  the  ages  of  the  world,  I  may  truly  affirm  to  be 
wanting.  The  use  and  end  of  which  Avork  I  do 
not  so  much  design  for  curiosity,  or  satisfaction 
of  those  that  are  the  lovers  of  learning,  but  chiefly 
for  a  more  serious  and  grave  purpose ;  which  is 
this,  in  few  words,  that  it  will  make  learned  men 
wise  in  the  use  and  administration  of  learning. 
For  it  is  not  St.  Augustine's  nor  St.  Ambrose's 
works  that  will  make  so  wise  a  divine  as  eccle 
siastical  history,  thoroughly  read  and  observed; 
and  the  same  reason  is  of  learning. 

History  of  Nature  is  of  three  sorts;  of  nature 
in  course,  of  nature  erring  or  varying,  and  of  na 
ture  altered  or  wrought :  that  is,  history  of  crea 
tures,  history  of  marvels,  and  history  of  arts. 
The  first  of  these,  no  doubt,  is  extant,  and  that 


188 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II, 


in  good  perfection ;  the  two  latter  are  handled  so 
weakly  and  unprofitably,  as  I  am  moved  to  note 
them  as  deficient.  For  I  find  no  sufficient  or 
competent  collection  of  the  works  of  nature  which 
have  a  digression  and  deflexion  from  the  ordinary 
course  of  generations,  productions,  and  motions ; 
whether  they  be  singularities  of  place  and  region, 
or  the  strange  events  of  time  and  chance,  or  the 
effects  of  yet  unknown  properties,  or  the  instances 
of  exception  to  general  kinds.  It  is  true,  I  find 
a  number  of  books  of  fabulous  experiments  and 
secrets,  and  frivolous  impostures  for  pleasure 
and  strangeness ;  but  a  substantial  and  severe 
collection  of  the  heteroclites  or  irregulars  of  na 
ture,  well  examined  and  described,  I  find  not; 
especially  not  with  due  rejection  of  fables  and  po 
pular  errors ;  for  as  things  now  are,  if  an  untruth 
in  nature  be  once  on  foot,  what  by  reason  of  the 
neglect  of  examination,  and  countenance  of  anti 
quity,  and  what  by  reason  of  the  use  of  the  opinion 
in  similitudes  and  ornaments  of  speech,  it  is  never 
called  down. 

The  use  of  this  work,  honoured  with  a  prece 
dent  in  Aristotle,  is  nothing  less  than  to  give  con 
tentment  to  the  appetite  of  curious  and  vain  wits, 
as  the  manner  of  mirabilaries  is  to  do ;  but  for 
two  reasons,  both  of  great  weight;  the  one  to  cor 
rect  the  partiality  of  axioms  and  opinions,  which 
are  commonly  framed  only  upon  common  and  fa 
miliar  examples;  the  other  because  from  the 
wonders  of  nature  is  the  nearest  intelligence  and 
passage  towards  the  wonders  of  art :  for  it  is  no 
more  but  by  following,  and  as  it  were  hounding 
Nature  in  her  wanderings  to  be  able  to  lead  her 
afterwards  to  the  same  place  again.  Neither  am 
I  of  opinion,  in  this  history  of  marvels,  that  su 
perstitious  narrations  of  sorceries,  witchcrafts, 
dreams,  divinations,  and  the  like,  where  there  is 
an  assurance  and  clear  evidence  of  the  fact,  be  al 
together  excluded.  For  it  is  not  yet  known  in 
what  cases  and  how  far  effects  attributed  to  su 
perstition  do  participate  of  natural  causes  :  and 
therefore  howsoever  the  practice  of  such  things  is 
to  be  condemned,  yet  from  the  speculation  and 
consideration  of  them  light  may  be  taken,  not 
only  for  the  discerning  of  the  offences,  but  for  the 
further  disclosing  of  nature.  Neither  ought  a 
man  to  make  scruple  of  entering  into  these  things 
for  inquisition  of  truth,  as  your  majesty  hath 
showed  in  your  own  example ;  who  with  the  two 
clear  eyes  of  religion  and  natural  philosophy 
have  looked  deeply  and  wisely  into  these  sha 
dows,  and  yet  proved  yourself  to  be  of  the  nature 
of  the  sun,  which  passeth  through  pollutions,  and 
it&elf  remains  as  pure  as  before.  But  this  I  hold 
fit,  that  these  narrations,  which  have  mixture  with 
superstition,  be  sorted  by  themselves,  and  not  be 
mingled  with  the  narrations  which  are  merely 
and  sincerely  natural.  But  as  for  the  narra 
tions  touching  the  prodigies  and  miracles  of 
religions,  they  are  either  not  true,  or  not  natu 


ral;  and  therefore  impertinent  for  the  story  of 
nature. 

For  history  of  Nature  wrought  or  mechanical, 
I  find  some  collections  made  of  agriculture,  and 
likewise  of  manual  arts;  but  commonly  with  a 
rejection  of  experiments  familiar  and  vulgar.  For 
it  is  esteemed  a  kind  of  dishonour  unto  learning 
to  descend  to  inquiry  or  meditation  upon  matters 
mechanical,  except  they  be  such  as  may  be  thought 
secrets,  rarities,  and  special  subtilties;  which  hu 
mour  of  vain  and  supercilious  arrogancy  is  justly 
derided  in  Plato;  where  he  brings  in  Hippias,  a 
vaunting  sophist,  disputing  with  Socrates,  a  true 
and  unfeigned  inquisitor  of  truth  ;  where  the  sub 
ject  being  touching  beauty,  Socrates,  after  his 
wandering  manner  of  inductions,  put  first  an  ex 
ample  of  a  fair  virgin,  and  then  of  a  fair  horse, 
and  then  of  a  fair  pot  well  glazed,  whereat  Hip 
pias  was  offended,  and  said,  "  More  than  for 
courtesy's  sake,  he  did  think  much  to  dispute 
with  any  that  did  allege  such  base  and  sordid  in 
stances  :"  whereunto  Socrates  answered,  "  You 
have  reason,  and  it  becomes  you  well,  being  a 
man  so  trim  in  your  vestments,"  &c.  and  sogoeth 
on  in  an  irony.  But  the  truth  is,  they  be  not  the 
highest  instances  that  give  the  securest  informa 
tion;  as  may  be  well  expressed  in  the  tale  so  com 
mon  of  the  philosopher,  that  while  he  gazed  up 
wards  to  the  stars  fell  into  the  water;  for  if  he 
had  looked  down  he  might  have  seen  the  stars  in 
the  water,  but  looking  aloft  he  could  not  see  the 
water  in  the  stars.  So  it  cometh  often  to  pass, 
that  mean  and  small  things  discover  great,  better 
than  great  can  discover  the  small :  and  therefore 
Aristotle  noteth  well,  "  that  the  nature  of  every 
thing  is  best  seen  in  its  smallest  portions."  And 
for  that  cause  he  inquireth  the  nature  of  a  com 
monwealth,  first  in  a  family,  and  the  simple  con 
jugations  of  man  and  wife,  parent  and  child, 
master  and  servant,  which  are  in  every  cottage. 
Even  so  likewise  the  nature  of  this  great  city  of 
the  world,  and  the  policy  thereof,  must  be  first 
sought  in  mean  concordances  and  small  portions. 
So  we  see  how  that  secret  of  nature,  of  the  turning 
of  iron  touched  with  the  loadstone  towards  the 
north,  was  found  out  in  needles  of  iron,  not  in  bars 
of  iron. 

But  if  my  judgment  be  of  any  weight,  the 
use  of  History  Mechanical  is  of  all  others  the 
most  radical  and  fundamental  towards  natural 
philosophy;  such  natural  philosophy  as  shall 
not  vanish  in  the  fume  of  subtile,  sublime, 
or  delectable  speculation,  but  such  as  shall 
be  operative  to  the  endowment  and  benefit  of 
man's  life :  for  it  will  not  only  minister  and 
suggest  for  the  present  many  ingenious  prac 
tices  in  all  trades,  by  a  connexion  and  transfer 
ring  of  the  observations  of  one  art  to  the  use  of 
another,  when  the  experiences  of  several  myste 
ries  shall  fall  under  the  consideration  of  one  man's 
mind :  but  further,  it  will  give  a  more  true  and 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


'89 


real  illumination  concerning  causes  and  axioms 
than  is  hitherto  attained.  For  like  as  a  man's 
disposition  is  never  well  known  till  he  be  crossed, 
nor  Proteus  ever  changed  shapes  till  he  was 
straitened  and  held  fast ;  so  the  passages  and 
variations  of  nature  cannot  appear  so  fully  in  the 
liberty  of  nature,  as  in  the  trials  and  vexations  of 
art. 

For  Civil  History,  it  is  of  three  kinds;  not  un 
fitly  to  be  compared  with  the  three  kinds  of  pic 
tures  or  images ;  for  of  pictures  or  images,  we 
see,  some  are  unfinished,  some  are  perfect,  and 
some  are  defaced.  So  of  histories  we  may  find 
three  kinds,  Memorials,  Perfect  Histories,  and 
Antiquities;  for  Memorials  are  history  unfinished, 
or  the  first  or  rough  draughts  of  history  ;  and  An 
tiquities  are  history  defaced,  or  some  remnants  of 
history  which  have  casually  escaped  the  ship 
wreck  of  time. 

Memorials,  or  preparatory  history,  are  of  two 
sorts  ;  whereof  the  one  may  be  termed  Commen 
taries,  and  the  other  Registers.  Commentaries 
are  they  which  set  down  a  continuance  of  the 
naked  events  and  actions,  without  the  motives  or 
designs,  the  counsels,  the  speeches,  the  pretexts, 
the  occasions  and  other  passages  of  action :  for 
this  is  the  true  nature  of  a  Commentary;  though 
Csesar,  in  modesty  mixed  with  greatness,  did 
for  his  pleasure  apply  the  name  of  a  Commentary 
to  the  best  history  of  the  world.  Registers  are 
collections  of  public  acts,  as  decrees  of  council, 
judicial  proceedings,  declarations  and  letters  of 
state,  orations  and  the  like,  without  a  perfect 
continuance  or  contexture  of  the  thread  of  the 
narration. 

Antiquities,  or  remnants  of  history,  are,  as  was 
said,  "  tanquam  tabula  naufragii ;"  when  indus 
trious  persons,  by  an  exact  and  scrupulous  dili 
gence  and  observation,  out  of  monuments,  names, 
words,  proverbs,  traditions,  private  records  and 
evidences,  fragments  of  stories,  passages  of  books 
that  concern  not  story,  and  the  like,  do  save  and 
recover  somewhat  from  the  deluge  of  time. 

In  these  kinds  of  imperfect  histories,  I  do  assign 
no  deficience,  for  they  are  "  tanquam  imperfecte 
mista ;"  and  therefore  any  deficience  in  them  is 
but  their  nature.  As  for  the  corruptions  and 
moths  of  history,  which  are  Epitomes,  the  use  of 
them  deserveth  to  be  banished,  as  all  men  of  sound 
judgment  have  confessed  ;  as  those  that  have 
fretted  and  corroded  the  sound  bodies  of  many 
excellent  histories,  and  wrought  them  into  base 
and  unprofitable  dregs. 

History,  which  may  be  called  Just  and  Perfect 
History,  is  of  three  kinds,  according  to  the  object 
which  it  propoundeth,  or  pretendeth  to  represent : 
for  it  either  representeth  a  time,  or  a  person,  or  an 
action  The  first  we  call  Chronicles,  the  second 
Lives,  and  the  third  Narrations  or  Relations.  Of 
these,  although  the  first  be  the  most  complete  and 
absolute  kind  of  history,  and  hath  most  estima 


tion  and  glory,  yet  the  second  excelleth  it  in  profit 
and  use,  and  the  third  in  verity  and  sincerity  :  for 
history  of  times  representeth  the  magnitude  of 
actions,  and  the  public  faces  and  deportments  of 
persons,  and  passeth  over  in  silence  the  smaller 
passages  and  motions  of  men  and  matters.  But 
such  being  the  workmanship  of  God,  as  he  doth 
hang  the  greatest  weight  upon  the  smallest  wires, 
"  maxima  e  minimis  suspendens,"  it  comes  there 
fore  to  pass,  that  such  histories  do  rather  set  forth 
the  pomp  of  business  than  the  true  and  inward 
resorts  thereof.  But  Lives,  if  they  be  well 
written,  propounding  to  themselves  a  person  to 
represent  in  whom  actions  both  greater  and 
smaller,  public  and  private,  have  a  commixture, 
must  of  necessity  contain  a  more  true,  native, 
and  lively  representation.  So  again  Narrations 
and  relations  of  actions,  as  the  War  of  Pelopon 
nesus,  the  Expedition  of  Cyrus  Minor,  the  Con 
spiracy  of  Catiline,  cannot  but  be  more  purely 
and  exactly  true  than  histories  of  times,  because 
they  may  choose  an  argument  comprehensible 
within  the  notice  and  instructions  of  the 'writer: 
whereas  he  that  undertaketh  the  story  of  a  time, 
especially  of  any  length,  cannot  but  meet  with 
many  blanks  and  spaces  which  he  must  be  forced 
to  fill  up  out  of  his  own  wit  and  conjecture. 

For  the  History  of  Times,  I  mean  of  civil 
history,  the  providence  of  God  hath  made  the  dis 
tribution  :  for  it  hath  pleased  God  to  ordain  and 
illustrate  two  exemplar  states  of  the  world  for 
arms,  learning,  moral  virtue,  policy,  and  laws; 
the  state  of  Graecia,  and  the  state  of  Rome ;  the 
histories  whereof  occupying  the  middle  part  of 
time,  have,  more  ancient  to  them,  histories  which 
may  by  one  common  name  be  termed  the  Antiqui 
ties  of  the  world  ;  and  after  them,  histories  which 
may  be  likewise  called  by  the  name  of  Modern 
History. 

Now  to  speak  of  the  deficiencies.  As  to  the 
heathen  antiquities  of  the  world,  it  is  in  vain  to 
note  them  for  deficient;  deficient  they  are  no 
doubt,  consisting  most  of  fables  and  fragments ; 
but  the  deficience  cannot  be  hoi  pen  ;  for  antiquity 
is  like  fame,  "caput  inter  nubila  condit;"  her 
head  is  muffled  from  our  sight.  For  the  history 
of  the  exemplar  states,  it  is  extant  in  good  per 
fection.  Not  but  I  could  wish  there  were  a  per 
fect  course  of  history  for  Greecia  from  Theseus  to 
Philopcemen,  (what  time  the  affairs  of  Greecia 
were  drowned  and  extinguished  in  the  affairs  of 
Rome  ;)  and  for  Rome  from  Romulus  to  Justini- 
anus,  who  may  be  truly  said  to  be  "  ultimus  Ro- 
manorum."  In  which  sequences  of  story  the 
text  of  Thucydides  and  Xenophon  in  the  one,  and 
the  text  of  Livius,  Polybius,  Sallustius,  Caesar, 
Appianus,  Tacitus,  Herodianus  in  the  other,  to  be 
kept  entire  without  any  diminution  at  all,  and 
only  to  be  supplied  and  continued.  But  this  is 
matter  of  magnificence,  rather  to  be  commended 
than  required:  and  we  speak  now  of  parts  of 


190 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


learning  supplemental,  and   not  of  supereroga 
tion. 

But  for  modern  Histories,  whereof  there  are 
some  few  very  worthy,  but  the  greater  part  be 
neath  mediocrity,  (leaving  the  care  of  foreign 
stories  to  foreign  states,  because  I  will  not  be 
"  curiosus  in  aliena  republica,")  I  cannot  fail  to 
represent  to  your  majesty  the  unworthiness  of  the 
history  of  England  in  the  main  continuance 
thereof,  and  the  partiality  and  obliquity  of  that 
of  Scotland  in  the  latest  and  largest  author  that 
I  have  seen :  supposing  that  it  would  be  honour 
for  your  majesty,  and  a  work  very  memorable,  if 
this  island  of  Great  Britain,  as  it  is  now  joined 
in  monarchy  for  the  ages  to  come,  so  were  joined 
in  one  history  for  the  times  passed ;  after  the 
manner  of  the  sacred  history,  which  draweth 
down  the  story  of  the  ten  tribes  and  of  the  two 
tribes,  as  twins,  together.  And  if  it  shall  seem 
that  the  greatness  of  this  work  may  make  it  less 
exactly  performed,  there  is  an  excellent  period  of 
a  much  smaller  compass  of  time,  as  to  the  story 
of  England  ;  that  is  to  say,  from  the  uniting  of 
the  roses  to  the  uniting  of  the  kingdoms ;  a  por 
tion  of  time,  wherein,  to  my  understanding,  there 
hath  been  the  rarest  varieties  that  in  like  number 
of  successions  of  any  hereditary  monarchy  hath 
been  known  :  for  it  beginneth  with  the  mixed 
adoption  of  a  crown  by  arms  and  title ;  an  entry 
by  battle,  an  establishment  by  marriage  :  and 
therefore  times  answerable,  like  waters  after  a 
tempest,  full  of  working  and  swelling,  though 
without  extremity  of  storm  :  but  well  passed 
through  by  the  wisdom  of  the  pilot,  being  one  of 
the  most  sufficient  kings  of  all  the  number. 
Then  followeth  the  reign  of  a  king,  whose  ac 
tions,  howsoever  conducted,  had  much  intermix 
ture  with  the  affairs  of  Europe,  balancing  and 
inclining  them  variably ;  in  whose  time  also 
began  that  great  alteration  in  the  state  ecclesias 
tical,  an  action  which  seldom  cometh  upon  the 
stage.  Then  the  reign  of  a  minor :  then  an  offer 
of  an  usurpation,  though  it  was  but  as  "  febris 
ephemera :"  then  the  reign  of  a  queen  matched 
with  a  foreigner  :  then  of  a  queen  that  lived  soli 
tary  and  unmarried,  and  yet  her  government  so 
masculine  that  it  had  greater  impression  and 
operation  upon  the  states  abroad  than  it  any  ways 
received  from  thence.  And  now  last,  this  most 
happy  and  glorious  event,  that  this  island  of  Bri 
tain,  divided  from  all  the  world,  should  be  united 
in  itself:  and  that  oracle  of  rest,  given  to  ./Eneas, 
"Antiquam  exquirite  matrem,"  should  now  be 
performed  and  fulfilled  upon  the  nations  of  Eng 
land  and  Scotland,  being  now  reunited  in  the  an 
cient  mother  name  of  Britain,  as  a  full  period  of 
all  instability  and  peregrinations :  so  that  as  it 
cometh  to  pass  in  massive  bodies,  that  they  have 
certain  trepidations  and  waverings  before  they  fix 
and  settle  ;  so  it  seemeth  that  by  the  providence 
of  God  this  monarchy,  before  it  was  to  settle  in 


your  majesty  and  your  generations,  (in  which,  I 
hope,  it  is  now  established  forever,)  had  these 
prelusive  changes  and  varieties. 

For  Lives,  I  do  find  it  strange  that  these  times 
have  so  little  esteemed  the  virtues  of  the  times, 
as  that  the  writing  of  lives  should  be  no  more 
frequent.  For  although  there  be  not  many  sove 
reign  princes  or  absolute  commanders,  and  that 
states  are  most  collected  into  monarchies,  yet  are 
there  many  worthy  personages  that  deserve  better 
than  dispersed  report  or  barren  eulogies.  For 
herein  the  invention  of  one  of  the  late  poets  is 
proper,  and  doth  well  enrich  the  ancient  fiction  : 
for  he  feigneth  that  at  the  end  of  the  thread  or 
web  of  every  man's  life  there  was  a  little  medal 
containing  the  person's  name,  and  that  Time 
waited  upon  the  shears ;  and  as  soon  as  the 
thread  was  cut,  caught  the  medals,  and  carried 
them  to  the  river  of  Lethe ;  and  about  the  bank 
there  were  many  birds  flying  up  and  down,  that 
would  get  the  medals  and  carry  them  in  their 
beak  a  little  while,  and  then  let  them  fall  into  the 
river:  only  there  were  a  few  swans,  which  if 
they  got  a  name,  would  carry  it  to  a  temple  where 
it  was  consecrated. 

And  although  many  men,  more  mortal  in  their 
affections  than  in  their  bodies,  do  esteem  desire  of 
name  and  memory  but  as  a  vanity  and  ventosity, 

"Animi  nil  magnje  laudis  egentes;" 

which  opinion  cometh  from  that  root,  "  non  prius 
laudes  contempsimus,  quam  laudanda  facere  desi- 
vimus;"  yet  that  will  not  alter  Solomon's  judg 
ment,  "  Memoria  justi  cum  laudibus,  at  impiorum 
nomen  putrescet :"  the  one  flourisheth,  the  other 
either  consumeth  to  present  oblivion,  or  turneth 
to  an  ill  odour.  And  therefore  in  that  style  or 
addition,  which  is  and  hath  been  long  well  re 
ceived  and  brought  in  use,  "  felicis  memoriae, 
pise  memorise,  bonae  memoriae,"  we  do  acknow 
ledge  that  which  Cicero  saith,  borrowing  it  from 
Demosthenes,  that  "bona  fama  propria  possessio 
defunctorum  ;"  which  possession  I  cannot  but 
note  that  in  our  times  it  lieth  much  waste,  and 
that  therein  there  is  a  deficience. 

For  Narrations  and  Relations  of  particular 
actions,  there  were  also  to  be  wished  a  greater  dili 
gence  therein  :  for  there  is  no  great  action  but  hath 
some  good  pen  which  attends  it.  And  because 
it  is  an  ability  not  common  to  write  a  good 
history,  as  may  well  appear  by  the  small  num 
ber  of  them  :  yet  if  particularity  of  actions  me 
morable  were  but  tolerably  reported  as  they  pass, 
the  compiling  of  a  complete  history  of  times  might 
be  the  better  expected,  \vhen  a  writer  should  arise 
that  were  fit  for  it :  for  the  collection  of  such  rela 
tions  might  be  as  a  nursery  garden,  whereby  to 
plant  a  fair  and  stately  garden,  when  time  should 
serve. 

There  is  yet  another  portion  of  history  which 
Cornelius  Tacitus  maketh,  which  is  not  to  be  for- 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


191 


got,  especially  with  that  application  which  heac- 
coupleth  it  withal,  "  Annals  and  Journals ;"  ap 
propriating  to  the  former  matters  of  estate,  and  to 
the  latter  acts  and  accidents  of  a  meaner  nature. 
For  giving  but  a  touch  of  certain  magnificent 
buildings,  he  addeth,  «  Cum  ex  dignitate  populi 
Roman!  repertum  sit,  res  illustres  annalibus,  talia 
diurnis  urbis  actis  mandare."  So  as  there  is  a 
kind  of.  contemplative  heraldry,  as  well  as  civil. 
And  as  nothing  doth  derogate  from  the  dignity  of 
a  state  more  than  confusion  of  degrees;  so  it 
doth  not  a  little  embase  the  authority  of  a  history, 
to  intermingle  matters  of  triumph  or  matters  of 
ceremony,  or  matters  of  novelty,  with  matters  of 
state.  But  the  use  of  a  journal  hath  not  only 
been  in  the  history  of  time,  but  likewise  in  the 
history  of  persons,  and  chiefly  of  actions ;  for 
princes  in  ancient  time  had,  upon  point  of  honour 
and  policy  both,  journals  kept  of  what  passed 
day  by  day :  for  we  see  the  chronicle  which 
was  read  before  Ahasuerus,  when  he  could  not 
take  rest,  contained  matters  of  affairs  indeed,  but 
such  as  had  passed  in  his  own  time,  and  very 
lately  before ;  but  the  journal  of  Alexander's 
house  expressed  every  small  particularity,  even 
concerning  his  person  and  court;  and  it  is  yet 
a  use  well  received  in  enterprises  memorable, 
as  expeditions  of  war,  navigations,  and  the 
like,  to  keep  diaries  of  that  which  passeth  con 
tinually. 

I  cannot  likewise  be  ignorant  of  a  form  of 
writing  which  some  grave  and  wise  men  have 
used,  containing  a  scattered  history  of  those  actions 
•  which  they  have  thought  worthy  of  memory,  with 
politic  discourse  and  observation  thereupon  :  not 
incorporated  into  the  history,  but  separately,  and 
as  the  more  principal  in  their  intention ;  which 
kind  of  ruminated  history  I  think  more  fit  to  place 
amongst  books  of  policy,  whereof  we  shall  here 
after  speak,  than  amongst  books  of  history  :  for  it 
is  the  true  office  of  history  to  represent  the  events 
themselves  together  with  the  counsels,  and  to  leave 
the  observations  and  conclusions  thereupon  to  the 
liberty  and  faculty  of  every  man's  judgment :  but 
mixtures  are  things  irregular,  whereof  no  man  can 
define. 

So  also  is  there  another  kind  of  history  mani 
foldly  mixed,  and  that  is  History  of  Cosmography : 
being  compounded  of  natural  history,  in  respect 
of  the  regions  themselves  ;  of  history  civil,  in  re 
spect  of  the  habitations,  regiments,  and  manners 
of  the  people  ;  and  the  mathematics,  in  respect  of 
the  climates  and  configurations  towards  the  hea 
vens  :  which  part  of  learning  of  all  others,  in  this 
latter  time,  hath  obtained  most  proficience.  For 
it  may  be  truly  affirmed  to  the  honour  of  these 
times,  and  in  a  virtuous  emulation  with  antiquity, 
that  this  great  building  of  the  world  had  never 
thorough  lights  made  in  it,  till  the  age  of  us  and 
our  fathers  ;  for  although  they  had  knowledge  of 
the  antipodes, 


"Nosqiie  uhi  primus  equis  oriensafflavit  anhelis, 
Illic  sera  rubens  uccemlit  lumina  Vesper :" 

yet  that  might  be  by  demonstration,  and  not  in 
fact :  and  if  by  travel,  it  requireth  the  voyage  but 
of  half  the  globe.  But  to  circle  the  earth,  as 
the  heavenly  bodies  do,  was  not  done  nor  en- 
terprised  till  these  latter  times:  and  therefore 
these  times  may  justly  bear  in  their  word,  not 
only  "  plus  ultra,"  in  precedence  of  the  an 
cient  "  non  ultra,"  and  "imitabile  fulmen"  in 
precedence  of  the  ancient  "  non  imitabile  ful 
men," 

"  Demens  qui  nimbos  et  non  imitabile  fulmen  ;"  &c. 

but  likewise  "imitabile  cesium;"  in  respect  of  the 
many  memorable  voyages,  after  the  manner  of 
heaven,  about  the  globe  of  the  earth. 

And  this  proficience  in  navigation  and  disco 
veries  may  plant  also  an  expectation  of  the  further 
proficience  and  augmentation  of  all  sciences ;  be 
cause  it  may  seem  they  are  ordained  by  God  to  be 
coevals,  that  is,  to  meet  in  one  age.  For  so  the 
prophet  Daniel,  speaking  of  the  latter  times, 
fortelleth,  "  Plurimi  pertransibunt,  et  multiplex 
erit  scientia:"as  if  the  openness  and  thorough 
passage  of  the  world  and  the  increase  of  know 
ledge  were  appointed  to  be  in  the  same  ages  :  as 
we  see  it  is  already  performed  in  great  part :  the 
learning  of  these  latter  times  not  much  giving 
place  to  the  former  two  periods  or  returns  of  learn 
ing,  the  one  of  the  Grecians,  the  other  of  the 
Romans. 

History  Ecclesiastical  receiveth  the  same  divi 
sions  with  history  civil :  but  further,  in  the  pro 
priety  thereof,  may  be  divided  into  the  History 
of  the  Church,  by  a  general  name ;  History  of 
Prophec5r ;  and  History  of  Providence.  The  first 
describeth  the  times  of  the  "militant  church,*' 
whether  it  be  fluctuant,  as  the  ark  of  Noah ;  or 
movable,  as  the  ark  in  the  wilderness ;  or  at 
rest,  as  the  ark  in  the  temple :  that  is,  the  state 
of  the  church  in  persecution,  in  remove,  and  in 
peace.  This  part  I  ought  in  no  sort  to  note  as 
deficient ;  only  I  would  that  the  virtue  and  sin 
cerity  of  it  were  according  to  the  mass  and  quan 
tity.  But  I  am  not  now  in  hand  writh  censures, 
but  with  omissions. 

The  second,  which  is  History  of  Prophecy, 
consisteth  of  two  relatives,  the  prophecy,  and  the 
accomplishment;  and  therefore  the  nature  of  such 
a  work  ought  to  be,  that  every  prophecy  of  the 
Scripture  be  sorted  with  the  event  fulfilling  the 
same,  throughout  the  ages  of  the  world;  both  for 
the  better  confirmation  of  faith,  and  for  the  better 
illumination  of  the  church  touching  those  rarts 
of  prophecies  which  are  yet  unfulfilled  :  allowing 
nevertheless  that  latitude  which  is  agreeable  and 
familiar  unto  divine  prophecies;  being  of  the  na 
ture  of  their  author,  with  whom  a  thousand  years 
are  but  as  one  day;  and  therefore  are  not  fulfilled 
punctually  at  once,  but  have  springing  and  ger- 
minant  accomplishment  throughout  many  ages; 


192 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


Boo*  II. 


though  the  height  or  fulness  of  them  may  refer 
to  some  one  age.  This  is  a  work  which  I  find 
deficient;  but  is  to  be  done  with  wisdom,  so-, 
briety,  and  reverence,  or  not  at  all. 

The  third,  which  is  History  of  Providence, 
containeth  that  excellent  correspondence  which  is 
between  God's  revealed  will  and  his  secret  will : 
which  though  it  be  so  obscure,  as  for  the  most 
part  it  is  not  legible  to  the  natural  man ;  no,  nor 
many  times  to  those  that  behold  it  from  the  taber 
nacle  ;  yet  at  some  times  it  pleaseth  God,  for 
our  better  establishment  and  the  confuting  of  those 
which  are  as  without  God  in  the  world,  to  write 
it  in  such  text  and  capital  letters,  that  as  the 
prophet  saith,  "he  that  runneth  by  may  read  it ;" 
that  is,  mere  sensual  persons,  which  hasten  by 
God's  judgments  and  never  bend  or  fix  their  cogi 
tations  upon  them,  are  nevertheless  in  their  pass 
age  and  race  urged  to  discern  it.  Such  are  the 
notable  events  and  examples  of  God's  judgments, 
chastisements,  deliverances,  and  blessings  :  and 
this  is  a  work  which  hath  passed  through  the  la 
bours  of  many,  and  therefore  I  cannot  present  as 
omitted. 

There  are  also  other  parts  of  learning  which 
are  Appendices  to  history:  for  all  the  exterior 
proceedings  of  man  consist  of  words  and  deeds ; 
whereof  history  doth  properly  receive  and  retain 
in  memory  the  deeds ;  and  if  words,  yet  but  as 
inducements  and  passages  to  deeds :  so  are  there 
other  books  and  writings,  which  are  appropriate 
to  the  custody  and  receipt  of  words  only;  which 
likewise  are  of  three  sorts ;  Orations,  Letters,  and 
brief  Speeches  or  Sayings.  Orations  are  plead 
ings,  speeches  of  counsel,  laudatives,  invectives, 
apologies,  reprehensions,  orations  of  formality  or 
ceremony,  and  the  like.  Letters  are  according  to 
all  the  variety  of  occasions,  advertisements,  ad 
vices,  directions,  propositions,  petitions,  commen 
datory,  expostulatory,  satisfactory ;  of  compliment, 
of  pleasure,  of  discourse,  and  all  other  passages 
of  action.  And  such  as  are  written  from  wise 
men,  are  of  all  the  words  of  man,  in  my  judgment, 
the  best;  for  they  are  more  natural  than  orations 
and  public  speeches,  and  more  advised  than  con 
ferences  or  present  speeches.  So  again  letters 
of  affairs  from  such  as  manage  them,  or  are  privy 
to  them,  are  of  all  others  the  best  instructions  for 
history,  and  to  a  diligent  reader  the  best  histories 
in  themselves.  For  Apophthegms,  it  is  a  great 
loss  of  that  book  of  Caesar's ;  for  as  his  history,  and 
those  few  letters  of  his  which  we  have,  and  those 
apophthegms  which  were  of  his  own,  excel  all 
men's  else,  so  I  suppose  would  his  collection  of 
apophthegms  have  done ;  for  as  for  those  which 
Lie  collected  by  others,  either  I  have  no  taste  in 
such  matters,  or  else  their  choice  hath  not  been 
happy.  But  upon  these  three  kinds  of  writings,  1 
do  not  insist,  because  I  have  no  deficiencies  to 
propound  concerning  them. 

Thus  much  therefore  concerning  history ;  which 


s  that  part  of  learning  which  answereth  to  one 
f  the  cells,  domiciles,  or  offices  of  the  mind  of 
.man ;  which  is  that  of  the  Memory. 

POESY  is  a  part  of  learning  in  measure  of  words 
'or  the  most  part  restrained,  but  in  all  other 
soints  extremely  licensed,  and  doth  truly  refer  to 
the  imagination ;  which,  being  not  tied  to  the  laws 
of  matter,  may  at  pleasure  join  that  which  nature 
hath  severed,  and  sever  that  which  nature  hath 
joined;  and  so  make  unlawful  matches  and  di 
vorces  of  things ;  "  Pictoribus  atque  poetis,  &c." 
tt  is  taken  in  two  senses,  in  respect  of  words,  or 
matter :  in  the  first  sense  it  is  but  a  character  .of 
style,  and  belongeth  to  arts  of  speech,  and  is  not 
pertinent  for  the  present :  in  the  latter,  it  is,  as 
bath  been  said,  one  of  the  principal  portions  of 
learning,  and  is  nothing  else  but  feigned  history, 
which  may  be  styled  as  well  in  prose  as  in 
verse. 

The  use  of  this  feigned  history  hath  been  to ' 
give  some  shadow  of  satisfaction  to  the  mind  of 
man  in  those  points  wherein  the  nature  of  things 
doth  deny  it,  the  world  being  in  proportion  infe 
rior  to  the  soul ;  by  reason  whereof  there  is, 
agreeable  to  the  spirit  of  man,  a  more  ample 
greatness,  a  more  exact  goodness,  and  a  more  ab 
solute  variety,  than  can  be  found  in  the  nature  of 
things.  Therefore,  because  the  acts  or  events  ol 
true  history  have  not  that  magnitude  which  satis- 
fieth  the  mind  of  man,  poesy  feigneth  acts  and 
events  greater  and  more  heroical :  because  true 
history  propoundeth  the  successes  and  isspes  of 
actions  not  so  agreeable  to  the  merits  of  virtue  and 
vice,  therefore  poesy  feigns  them  more  just  in  re 
tribution,  and  more  according  to  revealed  provi 
dence:  because  true  history  representeth  actions 
and  events  more  ordinary,  and  less  interchanged, 
therefore  poesy  endueth  them  with  more  rareness, 
and  more  unexpected  and  alternative  variations  : 
so  as  it  appeareth  that  poesy  serveth  and  confer- 
reth  to  magnanimity,  morality,  and  to  delectation. 
And  therefore  it  was  ever  thought  to  have  some 
participation  of  divineness,  because  it  doth  raise 
and  erect  the  mind,  by  submitting  the  shows  of 
things  to  the  desires  of  the  mind ;  whereas  reason 
doth  buckle  and  bow  the  mind  unto  the  nature  of 
things.  And  we  see,  that  by  these  insinuations 
and  congruities  with  man's  nature  and  pleasure, 
joined  also  with  the  agreement  and  consort  it 
hath  with  music,  it  hath  had  access  and  estima 
tion  in  rude  times  and  barbarous  regions,  where 
other  learning  stood  excluded. 

The  division  of  poesy  which  is  aptest  in  the 
propriety  thereof,  (besides  those  divisions  which 
are  common  unto  it  with  history,  as  feigned 
chronicles,  feigned  lives,  and  the  appendices  of 
history,  as  feigned  epistles,  feigned  orations,  and 
the  rest,)  is  into  Poesy,  Narrative,  Representative, 
and  Allusive. 

The  Narrative  is  a  mere  imitation  of  history, 
with  the  excesses  before  remembered ;  choosing 


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193 


for  subject  commonly  wars  and  love,  rarely 
state,  and  sometimes  pleasure  or  mirth. 

Representative  is  as  a  visible  history ;  and  is 
an  image  of  actions  as  if  they  were  present,  as 
history  is  of  actions  in  nature  as  they  are,  that  is 
past. 

Allusive  or  parabolical  is  a  narration  applied 
only  to  express  some  special  purpose  or  conceit : 
which  latter  kind  of  parabolical  wisdom  was  much 
more  in  use  in  the  ancient  times,  as  by  the  fables 
of  ^Esop,  and  the  brief  sentences  of  the  Seven, 
and  the  use  of  hieroglyphics,  may  appear.  And 
the  cause  was,  for  that  it  was  then  of  necessity  to 
express  any  point  of  reason,  which  was  more 
sharp  or  subtile  than  the  vulgar  in  that  manner ; 
because  men  in  those  times  wanted  both  variety 
of  examples  and  subtilty  of  conceit :  and  as  hiero 
glyphics  were  before  letters,  so  parables  were  be 
fore  arguments  :  And  nevertheless  now,  and  at  all 
times,  they  do  retain  much  life  and  vigour ;  be 
cause  reason  cannot  be  so  sensible,  nor  examples 
so  fit. 

But  there  remaineth  yet  another  use  of  poesy 
parabolical,  opposite  to  that  which  we  last  men 
tioned  :  for  that  tendeth  to  demonstrate  and  illus 
trate  that  which  is  taught  or  delivered,  and  this 
other  to  retire  and  obscure  it;  that  is,  when  the 
secrets  and  mysteries  of  religion,  policy,  or  phi 
losophy,  are  involved  in  fables  or  parables.  Of 
this  in  divine  poesy  we  see  the  use  is  authorized. 
In  heathen  poesy  we  see  the  exposition  of  fables 
doth  fall  out  sometimes  with  great  felicity ;  as  in 
the  fable  that  the  giants  being  overthrown  in  their 
war  against  the  gods,  the  Earth,  their  mother,  in 
revenge  thereof  brought  forth  Fame  : 

"Illam  Terra  parens,  ira  irritata  deorum, 
Extremam,  ut  perhibenf,  Cceo  Enceladoque  sororem 
Progenuit." 

Expounded,  that  when  princes  and  monarchs 
have  suppressed  actual  and  open  rebels,  then  the 
malignity  of  the  people,  which  is  the  mother  of 
rebellion,  doth  bring  forth  libels  and  slanders,  and 
taxations  of  the  state,  which  is  of  the  same  kind 
with  rebellion,  but  more  feminine.  So  in  the  fa 
ble,  that  the  rest  of  the  gods  having  conspired  to 
bind  Jupiter,  Pallas  called  Briareus  with  his 
hundred  hands  to  his  aid:  expounded,  that  monar 
chies  need  not  fear  any  curbing  of  their  absolute 
ness  by  mighty  subjects,  as  long  as  by  wisdom 
they  keep  the  hearts  of  the  people,  who  will  be 
sure  to  come  in  on  their  side.  So  in  the  fable, 
that  Achilles  was  brought  up  under  Chiron  the 
Centaur,  who  was  part  a  man  and  part  a  beast . 
expounded  ingeniously,  but  corruptly  by  Machia- 
vel,  that  it  belongeth  to  the  education  and  disci 
pline  of  princes  to  know  as  well  how  to  play  the 
part  of  the  lion  in  violence,  and  the  fox  in  guile, 
as  of  the  man  in  virtue  and  justice.  Neverthe 
less,  in  many  the  like  encounters,  I  do  rather  think 
that  the  fable  was  first,  and  the  exposition  then 
devised,  than  that  the  moral  was  first,  and  there- 
VOL.  I.— 25 


upon  the  fable  framed.  For  I  find  it  was  an  an 
cient  vanity  in  Chrysippus,  that  troubled  himself 
with  great  contention  to  fasten  the  assertions  of 
the  Stoics  upon  the  fictions  of  the  ancient  poets  ; 
but  yet  that  all  the  fables  and  fictions  of  the 
poets  were  but  pleasure  and  not  figure,  I  inter 
pose  no  opinion.  Surely  of  those  poets  which 
are  now  extant,  even  Homer  himself,  (notwith 
standing  he  was  made  a  kind  of  Scripture  by  the 
latter  schools  of  the  Grecians,)  yet  I  should  with 
out  any  difficulty  pronounce  that  his  fables  had  no 
such  inwardness  in  his  own  meaning;  but  what 
they  might  have  upon  a  more  original  tradition,  is  ' 
not  easy  to  affirm ;  for  he  was  not  the  inventor  of 
many  of  them. 

In  this  third  part  of  learning,  which  is  poesy ,'* 
I  can  report  no  deficience.  For  being  as  a  plant 
that  cometh  of  the  lust  of  the  earth,  without  a  for 
mal  seed,  it  hath  sprung  up  and  spread  abroad 
more  than  any  other  kind  :  but  to  ascribe  unto  it 
that  which  is  due,  for  the  expressing  of  affections, 
passions,  corruptions,  and  customs,  we  are  be 
holden  to  poets  more  than  to  the  philosophers7 
works  ;  and  for  wit  and  eloquence,  not  much  less 
than  to  orators'  harangues.  But  it  is  not  good  to 
stay  too  long  in  the  theatre.  Let  us  now  pass  on 
to  the  judicial  place  or  palace  of  the  mind,  which 
we  are  to  approach  and  view  with  more  reverence 
and  attention. 

The  knowledge  of  man  is  as  the  waters,  some 
descending  from  above,  and  some  springing  from 
beneath ;  the  one  informed  by  the  light  of  nature, 
the  other  inspired  by  divine  revelation.  The 
light  of  nature  consisteth  in  the  notions  of  the 
mind  and  the  reports  of  the  senses :  for  as  for 
knowledge  which  man  receiveth  by  teaching,  it  is 
cumulative  and  not  original ;  as  in  a  water  that, 
besides  his  o\vn  spring-head,  is  fed  with  other 
springs  and  streams.  So  then,  according  to  these 
two  differing  illuminations  or  originals,  know 
ledge  is  first  of  all  divided  into  Divinity  and 
Philosophy. 

In  Philosophy,  the  contemplations  of  man  do 
either  penetrate  unto  God, — or  are  circumferred  to 
nature, — or  are  reflected  or  reverted  upon  himself. 
Out  of  which  several  inquiries  there  do  arise 
three  knowledges,  Divine  philosophy,  Natural 
philosophy,  and  Human  philosophy  or  Humanity. 
For  all  things  are  marked  and  stamped  with  this 
triple  character,  of  the  power  of  God,  the  differ 
ence  of  nature,  and  the  use  of  man.  But  because 
the  distributions  and  partitions  of  knowledge  are 
not  like  several  lines  that  meet  in  one  angle,  and 
so  touch  but  in  a  point;  but  are  like  branches  of 
a  tree,  that  meet  in  a  stem,  which  hath  a  dimen 
sion  and  quantity  of  entireness  and  continuance, 
before  it  come  to  discontinue  and  break  itself  into 
arms  and  boughs ;  therefore  it  is  good,  before  we 
enter  into  the  former  distribution,  to  erect  and 
constitute  one  universal  science,  by  the  name  of 
"  Philosophia  Prima,"  primitive  or  summary  phi- 
R 


194 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


losophy,  as  the  main  and  common  way,  before  we 
come  where  the  ways  part  and  divide  themselves ; 
which  science  whether  I  should  report  as  deficient 
or  not,  I  stand  doubtful.  For  I  find  a  certain 
rhapsody  of  natural  theology,  and  of  divers  parts 
of  logic ;  and  of  that  part  of  natural  philosophy 
which  concerneth  the  principles;  and  of  that 
other  part  of  natural  philosophy  which  concerneth 
the  soul  or  spirit :  all  these  strangely  commixed 
and  confused;  but  being  examined,  it  seemeth  to 
me  rather  a  depredation  of  other  sciences,  ad 
vanced  and  exalted  unto  some  height  of  terms, 
than  any  thing  solid  or  substantive  of  itself. 
Nevertheless  I  cannot  be  ignorant  of  the  distinc 
tion  which  is  current,  that  the  same  things  are 
handled  but  in  several  respects.  As,  for  example, 
that  logic  considereth  of  many  things  as  they  are 
in  notion,  and  this  philosophy  as  they  are  in  na 
ture  ;  the  one  in  appearance,  the  other  in  exist 
ence  ;  but  I  find  this  difference  better  made  than 
pursued.  For  if  they  had  considered  quantity, 
similitude,  diversity,  and  the  rest  of  those  exter 
nal  characters  of  things,  as  philosophers,  and  in 
nature,  their  inquiries  must  of  force  have  been  of 
a  far  other  kind  than  they  are.  For  doth  any  of 
them,  in  handling  quantity,  speak  of  the  force 
of  union,  how  and  how  far  it  multiplieth  virtue  1 
Doth  any  give  the  reason,  why  some  things  in 
nature  are  so  common,  and  in  so  great  mass,  and 
others  so  rare,  and  in  so  small  quantity!  Doth 
any,  in  handling  similitude  and  diversity,  assign 
the  cause  why  iron  should  not  move  to  iron,  which 
is  more  like,  but  move  to  the  loadstone,  which  is 
less  like  !  Why  in  all  diversities  of  things  there 
should  be  certain  participles  in  nature,  which  are 
almost  ambiguous  to  which  kind  they  should  be 
referred  !  But  there  is  a  mere  and  deep  silence 
touching  the  nature  and  operation  of  those  com 
mon  adjuncts  of  things,  as  in  nature ;  and  only  a  re 
suming  and  repeating  of  the  force  and  use  of  them 
in  speech  or  argument.  Therefore,  because  in  a 
writing  of  this  nature  I  avoid  all  subtilty,  my 
meaning  touching  this  original  or  universal  phy- 
losophy  is  thus,  in  a  plain  and  gross  description 
by  negative  :  "  That  it  be  a  receptacle  for  all  such 
profitable  observations  and  axioms  as  fall  not 
within  the  compass  of  any  of  the  special  parts  of 
philosophy  or  sciences,  but  are  more  common 
and  of  a  higher  stage." 

Now  that  there  are  many  of  that  kind  need  not 
to  be  doubted.  For  example;  is  not  the  rule, 
"Si  inaequalibus  eequalia  addas,  omnia  erunt  inas- 
qualia,"  an  axiom  as  well  of  justice  as  of  the  ma 
thematics  !  And  is  there  not  a  true  coincidence 
between  commutative  and  distributive  justice,  and 
arithmetical  and  geometrical  proportion!  Is  not 
that  other  rule,  "  Qusein  eodemtertio  conveniunt, 
et  inter  se  conveniunt,"  a  rule  taken  from  the 
mathematics,  but  so  potent  in  logic  as  all  syllo 
gisms  are  built  upon  it  !  Is  not  the  observation, 
*  Omnia  mutantur,  nil  interit,"  a  contemplation, 


in  philosophy  thus,  that  the  quantum  of  nature  is 
eternal  1  in  natural  theology  thus,  that  it  requireth 
the  same  omnipotence  to  make  somewhat  nothing, 
which  at  the  first  made  nothing  somewhat!  ac 
cording  to  the  Scripture,  "  Didici  quod  omnia 
opera,  quse  fecit  Deus,  perseverent  in  perpetuum  ; 
non  possumus  eis  quicquam  addere  nee  auferre." 
Is  not  the  ground,  which  Machiavel  wisely  and 
largely  discourseth  concerning  governments,  that 
the  way  to  establish  and  preserve  them  is  to  reduce 
them  "  ad  principia,"  a  rule  in  religion  and  nature, 
as  well  as  in  civil  administration  !  Was  not  the 
Persian  magic  a  reduction  or  correspondence  of 
the  principles  and  architectures  of  nature  to  the 
rules  and  policy  of  governments  1  Is  not  the  pre 
cept  of  a  musician,  to  fall  from  a  discord  or  harsh 
accord  upon  a  concord  or  sweet  accord,  alike  true  in 
affection!  Is  not  the  trope  of  music,  to  avoid  or 
slide  from  the  close  or  cadence,  common  with  the 
trope  of  rhetoric  of  deceiving  expectation!  Is  not 
the  delight  of  the  quavering  upon  a  stop  in  music 
the  same  with  the  playing  of  light  upon  the  water ! 

"Splendet  tremulo  sub  lumine  pontus." 
Are  not  the  organs  of  the  senses  of  one  kind  with 
the  organs  of  reflection,  the  eye  with  a  glass,  the 
ear  with  a  cave  or  strait  determined  and  bounded  ! 
Neither  are  these  only  similitudes,  as  men  of  nar 
row  observation  may  conceive  them  to  be,  but  the 
same  footsteps  of  nature,  treading  or  printing  upon 
several  subjects  or  matters.  This  science,  there 
fore,  as  I  understand  it,  I  may  justly  report  as 
deficient :  for  I  see  sometimes  the  profounder 
sort  of  wits,  in  handling  some  particular  argu 
ment,  will  now  and  then  draw  a  bucket  of  water 
out  of  this  well  for  their  present  use ;  but  the 
spring-head  thereof  seemeth  to  me  not  to  have  been 
visited  :  being  of  so  excellent  use.  both  for  the 
disclosing  of  nature  and  the  abridgment  of  art. 

This  science  being  therefore  the  first  placed  as 
a  common  parent,  like  unto  Berecynthia,  which 
had  so  much  heavenly  issue, 

"Omnes  ccelicolas,  omnes  supera  alta  tenentes  :" 

we  may  return  to  the  former  distribution  of  the 
three  philosophies,  divine,  natural,  and  human. 

And  as  concerning  Divine  Philosophy  or  Natu 
ral  Theology,  it  is  that  knowledge  or  rudiment  of 
knowledge  concerning  God,  which  may  be  ob 
tained  by  the  contemplation  of  his  creatures  ; 
which  knowledge  may  be  truly  termed  divine  in 
respect  of  the  object,  and  natural  in  respect  of  the 
light.  The  bounds  of  this  knowledge  are,  that  it 
sufficeth  to  convince  atheism,  but  not  to  inform 
religion  :  and  therefore  there  was  never  miracle 
wrought  by  God  to  convert  an  atheist,  because  the 
light  of  nature  might  have  led  him  to  confess  a 
God ;  but  miracles  have  been  wrought  to  convert 
idolaters  and  the  superstitious,  because  no  light 
of  nature  extendeth  to  declare  the  will  and  true 
worship  of  God.  For  as  all  works  do  show  forth 
the  power  and  skill  of  the  workman,  and  not  his 


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ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


195 


image  ;  so  it  is  of  the  works  of  God,  which  do 
show  the  omnipotency  and  wisdom  of  the  maker, 
but  not  his  image  ;  and  therefore  therein  the 
heathen  opinion  differeth  from  the  sacred  truth  : 
for  they  supposed  the  world  to  be  the  image  of 
God,  and  man  to  be  an  extract  or  compendious 
image  of  the  world  ;  but  the  Scriptures  never 
vouchsafe  to  attribute  to  the  world  that  honour, 
as  to  be  the  image  of  God,  but  only  the  work  of 
his  hands ;  neither  do  they  speak  of  any  other 
image  of  God,  but  man :  wherefore  by  the  con 
templation  of  nature  to  induce  and  enforce  the  ac 
knowledgment  of  God,  and  to  demonstrate  his 
power,  providence,  and  goodness,  is  an  excellent 
argument,  and  hath  been  excellently  handled  by 
divers. 

But  on  the  other  side,  out  of  the  contemplation 
of  nature,  or  ground  of  human  knowledge,  to  in 
duce  any  verity  or  persuasion  concerning  the 
points  of  faith,  is  in  my  judgment  not  safe  :  "  Da 
fidei,  quae  fidei  sunt."  For  the  heathen  them 
selves  conclude  as  much,  in  that  excellent  and  di 
vine  fable  of  the  golden  chain  :  "  That  men  and 
gods  were  not  able  to  draw  Jupiter  down  to  earth  ; 
but  contrariwise,  Jupiter  was  able  to  draw  them 
up  to  heaven." 

So  as  we  ought  not  attempt  to  draw  down  or 
submit  the  mysteries  of  God  to  our  reason  ;  but 
contrariwise  to  raise  and  advance  our  reason  to 
the  divine  truth.  So  as  in  this  part  of  knowledge, 
touching  divine  philosophy,  I  am  so  far  from 
noting  any  deficience,  as  I  rather  note  an  excess : 
whereunto  I  have  digressed  ;  because  of  the  ex 
treme  prejudice  which  both  religion  and  philoso 
phy  have  received  and  may  receive,  by  being 
commixed  together ;  as  that  which  undoubtedly 
will  make  an  heretical  religion,  and  an  imaginary 
and  fabulous  philosophy. 

Otherwise  it  is  of  the  nature  of  angels  and 
spirits,  which  is  an  appendix  of  theology,  both 
divine  and  natural,  and  is  neither  inscrutable  nor 
interdicted  ;  for  although  the  Scripture  saith,  "  Let 
no  man  deceive  you  in  sublime  discourse  touching 
the  worship  of  angels,  pressing  into  that  he 
knoweth  not,"  &c.  yet,  notwithstanding,  if  you 
observe  well  that  precept  it  may  appear  thereby 
that  there  be  two  things  only  forbidden,  adoration 
of  them,  and  opinion  fantastical  of  them ;  either 
to  extol  them  farther  than  appertained  to  the  de 
gree  of  a  creature,  or  to  extol  a  man's  knowledge 
of  them  farther  than  he  hath  ground.  But  the 
sober  and  grounded  inquiry,  which  may  arise  out 
of  the  passages  of  Holy  Scriptures,  or  out  of  the 
gradations  of  nature,  is  not  restrained.  So  of 
degenerate  and  revolted  spirits,  the  conversing 
with  them  or  the  employment  of  them  is  prohibit 
ed,  much  more  any  veneration  towards  them  ; 
but  the  contemplation  or  science  of  their  nature, 
their  power,  their  illusions,  either  by  Scripture  or 
reason,  is  a  part  of  spiritual  wisdom.  For  so  the 
apostle  saith,  "  We  are  not  ignorant  of  his  strata 


gems."  And  it  is  no  more  unlawful  to  inquire 
the  nature  of  evil  spirits,  than  to  inquire  the  force 
of  poisons  in  nature,  or  the  nature  of  sin  and  vice 
in  morality.  But  this  part  touching  angels  and 
spirits  I  cannot  note  as  deficient,  for  many  have 
occupied  themselves  in  it;  I  may  rather  challenge 
it,  in  many  of  the  writers  thereof,  as  fabulous  and 
fantastical. 

Leaving  therefore  divine  philosophy  or  natu 
ral  theology  (not  divinity  or  inspired  theology, 
which  we  reserve  for  the  last  of  all,  as  the  haven 
and  sabbath  of  all  man's  contemplations)  we  will 
now  proceed  to  Natural  Philosophy. 

If  then  it  be  true  that  Democritus  said,  "That 
the  truth  of  nature  lieth  hid  in  certain  deep  mines 
and  caves  :"  and  if  it  be  true  likewise  that  the  al- 
chymists  do  so  much  inculcate,  that  Vulcan  is  a 
second  nature,  and  imitateth  that  dexterously  and 
compendiously,  which  nature  worketh  by  ambages 
and  length  of  time,  it  were  good  to  divide  natural 
philosophy  into  the  mine  and  furnace  ;  and  to  make 
two  professions  or  occupations  of  natural  philoso 
phers,  some  to  be  pioneers  and  some  smiths ; 
some  to  dig,  and  some  to  refine  and  hammer ;  and 
surely  I  do  best  allow  of  a  division  of  that  kind, 
though  in  more  familiar  and  scholastical  terms; 
namely,  that  these  be  the  two  parts  of  natural 
philosophy, — the  inquisition  of  causes,  and  the 
production  of  effects  ;  speculative  and  operative, 
natural  science,  and  natural  prudence.  For  as  in 
civil  matters  there  is  a  wisdom  of  discourse,  and 
a  wisdom  of  direction  ;  so  is  it  in  natural.  And 
here  I  will  make  a  request,  that  for  the  latter,  or 
at  least  for  a  part  thereof,  I  may  revive  and  rein 
tegrate  the  misapplied  and  abused  name  of  Natu 
ral  Magic  ;  which  in  the  true  sense  is  but  natural 
wisdom,  or  natural  prudence;  taken  according  to 
the  ancient  acceptation,  purged  from  vanity  and 
superstition.  Now  although  it  be  true,  and  I 
know  it  well,  that  there  is  an  intercourse  between 
causes  and  effects,  so  as  both  these  knowledges, 
speculative  and  operative,  have  a  great  connection 
between  themselves  ;  yet  because  all  true  and 
fruitful  natural  philosophy  hath  a  double  scale  or 
ladder  ascendant  and  descendent ;  ascending  from 
experiments  to  the  invention  of  causes,  and  de 
scending  from  causes  to  the  invention  of  new  ex 
periments  ;  therefore  I  judge  it  most  requisite  that 
these  two  partsbe  severally  considered  and  handled. 

Natural  Science  or  Theory  is  divided  into  Phy 
sic  and  Metaphysic ;  wherein  I  desire  it  may 
be  conceived  that  I  use  the  word  metaphysic  in  a 
differing  sense  from  that  that  is  received  :  and  in 
like  manner,  I  doubt  not  but  it  will  easily  appear 
to  men  of  judgment,  that  in  this  and  other  particu 
lars,  wheresoever  my  conception  and  notion  may 
differ  from  the  ancient,  yet  I  am  studious  to  keep 
the  ancient  terms.  For  hoping  well  to  deliver 
myself  from  mistaking,  by  the  order  and  perspi  - 
cuous  expressing  of  that  I  do  propound  :  I  am 
otherwise  zealous  and  affectionate  to  recede  as 


196 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


little  from  antiquity,  either  in  terms  or  opinions, 
as  may  stand  with  truth  and  the  proficience  of 
knowledge.  And  herein  I  cannot  a  little  marvel 
at  the  philosopher  Aristotle,  that  did  proceed  in 
such  a  spirit  of  difference  and  contradiction  to 
wards  all  antiquity :  undertaking  not  only  to  frame 
new  words  of  science  at  pleasure,  but  to  confound 
and  extinguish  all  ancient  wisdom  :  insomuch  as 
he  never  nameth  or  mentioneth  an  ancient  author 
or  opinion,  but  to  confute  and  reprove ;  wherein 
for  glory,  and  drawing  followers  and  disciples,  he 
took  the  right  course.  For  certainly  there  cometh 
to  pass,  and  hath  place  in  human  truth,  that 
which  was  noted  and  pronounced  in  the  highest 
truth  :  "  Veni  in  nomine  Patris,  nee  recipitis  me ; 
si  quis  venerit  in  nomine  suo,  eum  recipietis." 
But  in  this  divine  aphorism,  (considering  to  whom 
it  was  applied,  namely  to  Antichrist,  the  highest 
deceiver,)  we  may  discern  well  that  the  coming 
in  a  man's  own  name,  without  regard  of  antiquity 
or  paternity,  is  no  good  sign  of  truth,  although  it 
be  joined  with  the  fortune  and  success  of  an  "  Eum 
recipietis."  But  for  this  excellent  person  Aris 
totle,  I  will  think  of  him  that  he  learned  that 
humour  of  his  scholar,  with  whom,  it  secmet.li, 
he  did  emulate;  the  one  to  conquer  all  opinions, 
<is  the  other  to  conquer  all  nations :  wherein  ne 
vertheless,  it  may  be,  he  may  at  some  men's  hands, 
that  are  of  a  bitter  disposition,  get  a  like  title  as 
his  scholar  did : 

"Felix  terrarum  prado,  noil  utile  mundo 
Editus  exempluni,  &.<:.'' 

So, 

"Felix  doctrine  praedo." 

But  to  me,  on  the  other  side,  that  do  desire  as 
much  as  lieth  in  my  pen  to  ground  a  sociable  in 
tercourse  between  antiquity  and  proficience,  it 
seemeth  best  to  keep  away  with  antiquity,  "  us 
que  ad  aras;"  and  therefore  to  retain  the  ancient 
terms,  though  I  sometimes  alter  the  uses  and  defi 
nitions,  according  to  the  moderate  proceeding  in 
civil  government;  where  although  there  be  some 
alteration,  yet  that  holdcth  which  Tacitus  wisely 
noteth,  "eadem  magistratuum  vocabula." 

To  return,  therefore,  to  the  use  and  acceptation 
of  the  term  Mctaphysic,  as  I  do  now  understand 
the  word;  it  appeareth,  by  that  which  hath  been 
already  said,  that  I  intend  "philosophia  prima," 
Summary  Philosophy  and  Metaphysic,  which 
heretofore  have  been  confounded  as  one,  to  be  two 
things.  For,  the  one  I  have  made  as  a  parent  or 
common  ancestor  to  all  knowledge;  and  the  other 
I  have  now  brought  in  as  a  branch  or  descendant 
of  natural  science.  It  appeareth  likewise  that  I 
have  assigned  to  Summary  Philosophy  the  com 
mon  principles  and  axioms  which  are  promiscuous 
and  indifferent  to  several  sciences:  I  have  as- 
signea  unto  it  likewise  the  inquiry  touching  the 
operation  of  the  relative  and  adventitious  charac 
ters  of  essences,  as  quantity,  similitude,  diversity, 
possibility,  and  the  rest :  with  this  distinction  and 


provision;  that  they  be  handled  as  they  have  effi 
cacy  in  nature,  and  not  logically.  It  appeareth 
likewise,  that  Natural  Theology,  which  hereto- 
I  fore  hath  been  handled  confusedly  with  metaphy- 
sic,  I  have  enclosed  and  bounded  by  itself.  It  is 
therefore  now  a  question  what  is  left  remaining 
for  metaphysic ;  wherein  I  may  without  prejudice 
preserve  thus  much  of  the  conceit  of  antiquity, 
that  physic  should  contemplate  that  which  is 
inherent  in  matter,  and  therefore  transitory ;  and 
metaphysic  that  which  is  abstracted  and  fixed. 
And  again,  that  physic  should  handle  that  which 
supposeth  in  nature  only  a  being  and  moving; 
and  metaphysic  should  handle  that  which  sup 
poseth  further  in  nature  a  reason,  understanding, 
and  platform.  But  the  difference,  perspicuously 
expressed,  is  most  familiar  and  sensible.  For  as 
we  divided  natural  philosophy  in  general  into  the 
inquiry  of  causes,  and  productions  of  effects;  so 
that  part  which  concerneth  the  inquiry  of  causes 
we  do  subdivide  according  to  the  received  and 
I  sound  division  of  causes;  the  one  part,  which  is 
physic,  inquireth  and  handleth  the  material  and 
efficient  causes ;  and  the  other,  which  is  meta 
physic,  handleth  the  formal  and  final  causes. 

Physic,  taking  it  according  to  the  deriviation, 
and  not  according  to  our  idiom  for  medicine,  is 
situate  in  a  middle  term  or  distance  between  na 
tural  history  and  metaphysic.  For  natural  history 
describeth  the  variety  of  things;  physic,  the 
causes,  but  variable  or  respective  causes ;  and 
metaphysic,  the  fixed  and  constant  causes. 

"I.imus  ut  hie  durescit,  et  ha:c  ut  cera  liquescit, 
Uno  eodentque  igni :" 

Fire  is  the  cause  of  induration,  but  respective  to 
clay :  fire  is  the  cause  of  colliquation,  but  respec 
tive  to  wax ;  but  fire  is  no  constant  cause  either 
of  induration  or  colliquation :  so  then  the  physical 
causes  are  but  the  efficient  and  the  matter.  Phy 
sic  hath  three  parts ;  whereof  two  respect  nature 
united  or  collected,  the  third  contemplateth  nature 
diffused  or  distributed.  Nature  is  collected  either 
into  one  entire  total,  or  else  into  the  same  principles 
or  seeds.  So  as  the  first  doctrine  is  touching  the 
contexture  or  configuration  of  things,  as  "  de 
mundo,  de  universitate  rerum."  The  second  is 
the  doctrine  concerning  the  principles  or  originals 
of  things.  The  third  is  the  doctrine  concerning 
all  variety  and  particularity  of  things ;  whether 
it  be  of  the  different  substances,  or  their  different 
qualities  and  natures ;  whereof  there  needeth  no 
enumeration,  this  part  being  but  as  a  gloss,  or 
paraphrase,  that  attendeth  upon  the  text  of  natural 
history.  Of  these  three  1  cannot  report  any  as 
deficient.  In  what  truth  or  perfection  they  are 
handled,  I  make  not  now  any  judgment :  but  they 
are  parts  of  knowledge  not  deserted  by  the  labour 
of  man. 

For  Metaphysic,  we  have  assigned  unto  it  the 
inquiry  of  formal  and  final  causes ;  which  assigna 
tion,  as  to  the  former  of  them,  may  seem  to  bo 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


197 


nugatory  and  void ;  because  of  the  received  and 
inveterate  opinion,  that  the  inquisition  of  man  is 
not  competent  to  find  out  essential  forms  or  true 
differences :  of  which  opinion  we  will  take  this 
hold,  that  the  invention  of  forms  is  of  all  other 
parts  of  knowledge  the  worthiest  to  be  sought,  if 
it  be  possible  to  be  found.  As  for  the  possibility, 
they  are  ill  discoverers  that  think  there  is  no  land, 
when  they  can  see  nothing  but  sea.  But  it  is 
manifest  that  Plato,  in  his  opinion  of  ideas,  as 
one  that  had  a  wit  of  elevation  situate  as  upon  a 
cliff,  did  descry,  "That  forms  were  the  true  ob 
ject  of  knowledge;"  but  lost  the  real  fruit  of  his 
opinion,  by  considering  of  forms  as  absolutely 
abstracted  from  matter,  and  not  confined  and  de 
termined  by  matter ;  and  so  turning  his  opinion 
upon  theology,  wherewith  all  his  natural  philo 
sophy  is  infected.  But  if  any  man  shall  keep  a 
continual  watchful  and  severe  eye  upon  action, 
operation,  and  the  use  of  knowledge,  he  may  ad 
vise  and  take  notice  what  are  the  forms,  the  dis 
closures  whereof  are  fruitful  and  important  to  the 
state  of  man.  For  as  to  the  forms  of  substances, 
man  only  except,  of  whom  it  is  said,  "  Formavit 
hominem  de  limo  terrae,  et  spiravit  in  faciem  ejus 
spiraculum  vitse,"  and  not  as  of  all  other  crea 
tures,  "Producant  aquae,  producat  terra;"  the 
forms  of  substances,  I  say,  as  they  are  now  by 
compounding  and  transplanting  multiplied,  are  so 
perplexed,  as  they  are  not  to  be  inquired ;  no  more 
than  it  were  either  possible  or  to  purpose  to  seek 
in  gross  the  forms  of  those  sounds  which  make 
words,  which  by  composition  and  transposition 
of  letters  are  infinite.  But,  on  the  other  side,  to 
inquire  the  loitti  01  those  sounds  or  voices  which 
.nake  simple  letters,  is  easily  comprehensible ; 
and  being  knovvn,  induceth  and  manifesteth  the 
ibrms  of  all  words,  which  consist  and  are  com 
pounded  of  them.  In  the  same  manner,  to  in 
quire  the  torm  of  a  lion,  of  an  oak,  of  gold;  nay, 
of  water,  of  air,  is  a  vain  pursuit :  but  to  inquire 
die  forms  of  sense,  of  voluntary  motion,  of  vege 
tation,  of  colours,  of  gravity  and  levity,  of  den 
sity,  of  tenuity,  of  heat,  of  cold,  and  all  other 
natures  and  qualities,  which,  like  an  alphabet,  are 
not  many,  and  of  which  the  essences,  upheld  by 
matter,  of  all  creatures  do  consist;  to  inquire, 
i  say,  the  true  forms  of  these,  is  that  part  of  me- 
taphysic  which  we  now  define  of.  Not  but  that 
physic  doth  make  inquiry,  and  take  consideration 
of  the  same  natures:  but  how1?  Only  as  to  the 
material  and  efficient  causes  of  them,  and  not  as 
to  the  forms.  For  example;  if  the  cause  of 
whiteness  in  snow  or  froth  be  inquired,  and  it  be 
rendered  thus,  that  the  subtile  intermixture  of  air 
and  water  is  the  cause,  it  is  well  rendered ;  but 
nevertheless,  is  this  the  form  of  whiteness  1  No; 
but  it  is  the  efficient,  which  is  ever  but  "vehicu- 
luin  forma-?..1"  This  part  of  metaphysic  I  do  not 
find  laboured  and  performed;  whereat  I  marvel 
not :  because  I  hold  it  not  possible  to  be  invented 


by  that  course  of  invention  which  hath  been  used ; 
in  regard  that  men,  which  is  the  root  of  all  error, 
have  made  too  untimely  a  departure  and  too  re 
mote  a  recess  from  particulars. 

But  the  use  of  this  part  of  metaphysic,  which 
I  report  as  deficient,  is  of  the  rest  the  most  excel 
lent  in  two  respects  :  the  one,  because  it  is  the 
duty  and  virtue  of  all  knowledge  to  abridge  the 
infinity  of  individual  experience,  as  much  as  the 
conception  of  truth  will  permit,  and  to  remedy  the 
complaint  of  "vitabrevis,  ars  longa;"  which  is 
performed  by  uniting  the  notions  and  conceptions 
of  sciences :  for  knowledges  are  as  pyramids, 
whereof  history  is  the  basis.  So  of  Natural 
Philosophy,  the  basis  is  natural  history ;  the  stage 
next  the  basis  is  physic ;  the  stage  next  the  ver 
tical  point  is  metaphysic.  As  for  the  vertical 
point,  "  Opus  quod  operatur  Dens  a  principio  us 
que  ad  finem,"  the  summary  law  of  nature,  we 
know  not  whether  man's  inquiry  can  attain  unto 
it.  But  these  three  be  the  true  stages  of  know 
ledge,  and  are  to  them  that  are  depraved  no  better 
than  the  giants'  hills  : 

"  Ter  sunt  conati  imponere  Pelio  Ossam 
Scilicet,  atque  Ossce  frondosum  involvere  Olympum." 

But  to  those  which  refer  all  things  to  the  glory 
of  God,  they  are  as  the  three  acclamations, 
"  Sancte,  sancte,  sancte  ;"  holy  in  the  description 
or  dilatation  of  his  works  ;  holy  in  the  connexion 
or  concatenation  of  them ;  and  holy  in  the  union 
of  them  in  a  perpetual  and  uniform  law.  And 
therefore  the  speculation  was  excellent  in  Par- 
menides  and  Plato,  although  but  a  speculation  in 
them,  that  all  things  by  scale  did  ascend  to  unity. 
So  then  always  that  knowledge  is  worthiest, 
which  is  charged  with  least  multiplicity ;  which 
appeareth  to  be  metaphysic ;  as  that  which  con- 
sidereth  the  simple  forms  or  differences  of  things, 
which  are  few  in  number,  and  the  degrees  and  co 
ordinations  whereof  make  all  this  variety. 

The  second  respect,  which  valueth  and  com- 
mendeth  this  part  of  metaphysic,  is,  that  it  doth 
enfranchise  the  power  of  man  unto  the  greatest 
liberty  and  possibility  of  works  and  effects.  For 
physic  carrieth  man  in  narrow  and  restrained 
ways,  subject  to  many  accidents  of  impediments, 
imitating  the  ordinary  flexuous  courses  of  nature ; 
but  "latse  undique  sunt  sapientibus  viae  :"  to  sa 
pience,  which  was  anciently  defined  to  be  "  rerum 
divinarum  et  humanarum  scientia,"  there  is  ever 
choice  of  means :  for  physical  causes  give  light 
to  new  invention  "in  simili  materia."  But  who 
soever  knoweth  any  form,  knoweth  the  utmost 
possibility  of  superinducing  that  nature  upon  any 
variety  of  matter ;  and  so  is  less  restrained  in 
operation,  either  to  the  basis  of  the  matter,  or  the 
condition  of  the  efficient:  which  kind  of  know 
ledge  Solomon  likewise,  though  in  a  more  divino 
sort,  elegantly  describeth :  "Non  arctabuntur 
gressus  tui,  et  currens  non  habebis  offendiculum." 

R2 


198 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


The  ways*  of  sapience  are  not  much  liable  either 
to  particularity  or  chance. 

The  second  part  of  metaphysic  is  the  inquiry 
of  final  causes,  which  I  am  moved  to  report  not 
as  omitted,  hut  as  misplaced ;  and  yet  if  it  were 
but  a  fault  in  order,  I  would  not  speak  of  it :  for 
order  is  matter  of  illustration.,  but  pertaineth  not 
to  the  substance  of  sciences.  But  this  misplacing 
hath  caused  a  deficience,  or  at  least  a  great  impro- 
ficience  in  the  sciences  themselves.  For  the 
handling  of  final  causes,  mixed  with  the  rest  in 
physical  inquiries,  hath  intercepted  the  severe 
and  diligent  inquiry  of  all  real  and  physical 
causes,  and  given  men  the  occasion  to  stay  upon 
these  satisfactory  and  specious  causes,  to  the  great 
arrest  and  prejudice  of  further  discovery.  For 
this  I  find  done  not  only  by  Plato,  who  ever  an- 
choreth  upon  that  shore,  but  by  Aristotle,  Galen, 
and  others  which  do  usually  likewise  fall  upon 
these  flats  of  discoursing  causes.  For  to  say  that 
the  hairs  of  the  eyelids  are  for  a  quickset  and 
fence  about  the  sight;  or  that  the  firmness  of  the 
skins  and  hides  of  living  creatures  is  to  defend 
them  from  the  extremities  of  heat  or  cold;  or  that 
the  bones  are  for  the  columns  or  beams,  whereupon 
the  frames  of  the  bodies  of  living  creatures  are 
built ;  or  that  the  leaves  of  trees  are  for  protecting 
of  the  fruit ;  or  that  the  clouds  are  for  the  water 
ing  of  the  earth ;  or  that  the  solidness  of  the  earth 
is  for  the  station  and  mansion  of  living  creatures, 
and  the  like,  is  well  inquired  and  collected  in 
metaphysic ;  but  in  physic  they  are  impertinent. 
Nay,  they  are  indeed  but  remoras  and  hinderances 
to  stay  and  slug  the  ship  from  further  sailing ;  and 
have  brought  this  to  pass,  that  the  search  of  the 
physical  causes  hath  been  neglected,  and  passed 
in  silence.  And  therefore  the  natural  philosophy 
of  Democritus  and  some  others,  (who  did  not 
suppose  a  mind  or  reason  in  the  frame  of  things, 
but  attributed  the  form  thereof,  able  to  maintain 
itself,  to  infinite  essays  or  proofs  of  nature,  which 
they  term  fortune,)  seemeth  to  me,  as  far  as  I  can 
judge  by  the  recital  and  fragments  which  remain 
unto  us,  in  particularities  of  physical  causes,  more 
real  and  better  inquired  than  that  of  Aristotle  and 
Plato ;  whereof  both  intermingled  final  causes, 
the  one  as  a  part  of  theology,  and  the  other  as  a 
part  of  logic,  which  were  the  favourite  studies 
respectively  of  both  those  persons.  Not  because 
those  final  causes  are  not  true,  and  worthy  to  be 
inquired,  being  kept  within  their  own  province ; 
but  because  their  excursions  into  the  limits  of 
physical  causes  hath  bred  a  vastness  and  solitude 
in  that  track.  For  otherwise,  keeping  their  pre 
cincts  and  borders,  men  are  extremely  deceived  if 
they  think  there  is  an  enmity  or  repugnancy  at  all 
between  them.  For  the  cause  rendered,  that  the 
hairs  about  the  eyelids  are  for  the  safeguard  of 
the  sight,  doth  not  impugn  the  cause  rendered, 
that  pilosity  is  incident  to  orifices  of  moisture ; 
'•  Muscosi  fontes,"  &c.  Nor  the  cause  rendered, 


that  the  firmness  of  hides  is  for  the  armour  of  the 
body  against  extremities  of  heat  and  cold,  doth 
not  impugn  the  cause  rendered,  that  contraction 
of  pores  is  incident  to  the  outwardest  parts,  in  re 
gard  of  their  adjacence  to  foreign  or  unlike  bodies ; 
and  so  of  the  rest:  both  causes  being  true  and 
compatible,  the  one  declaring  an  intention,  the 
other  a  consequence  only. 

Neither  doth  this  call  in  question,  or  derogate 
from  divine  providence,  huj;  highly  confirm  and 
exalt  it.  For  as  in  civil  actions  he  is  the  greater 
and  deeper  politician,  that  can  make  other  men 
the  instruments  of  his  will  and  ends,  and  yet 
never  acquaint  them  with  his  purpose,  so  as  they 
shall  do  it,  and  yet  not  know  what  they  do,  than 
he  that  imparteth  his  meaning  to  those  he  employ- 
eth;  so  is  the  wisdom  of  God  more  admirable, 
when  nature  intendeth  one  thing,  and  providence 
draweth  forth  another,  than  if  he  had  communi 
cated  to  particular  creatures  and  motions  the 
characters  and  impressions  of  his  providence. 
And  thus  much  for  metaphysic;  the  latter  part 
whereof  I  allow  as  extant,  but  wish  it  confined 
to  its  proper  place. 

Nevertheless  there  remaineth  yet  another  part 
of  natural  philosophy,  which  is  commonly  made 
a  principal  part,  and  holdeth  rank  with  physic 
special  and  metaphysic,  which  is  Mathematic ; 
but  I  think  it  more  agreeable  to  the  nature  of 
things,  and  to  the  light  of  order,  to  place  it  as  a 
branch  of  metaphysic  :  for  the  subject  of  it  being- 
quantity,  (not  quantity  indefinite,  which  is  but  a 
relative,  and  belongeth  to  "philosophia  prima," 
as  hath  been  said,  but  quantity  determined  or 
proportionable,)  it  appeareth  to  be  one  of  the 
essential  forms  of  things ;  as  that  that  is  causative 
in  nature  of  a  number  of  effects;  insomuch  as  we 
see,  in  the  schools  both  of  Democritus  and  of 
Pythagoras,  that  the  one  did  ascribe  figure  to  the 
first  seeds  of  things,  and  the  other  did  suppose 
numbers  to  be  the  principles  and  originals  of 
things:  and  it  is  true  also,  that  of  all  other  forms, 
as  we  understand  forms,  it  is  the  most  abstracted 
and  separable  from  matter,  and  therefore  most 
proper  to  metaphysic  :  which  hath  likewise  been 
the  cause  why  it  hath  been  better  laboured  and 
inquired  than  any  of  the  other  forms,  which  are 
more  immersed  in  matter. 

For  it  being  the  nature  of  the  mind  of  man,  to 
the  extreme  prejudice  of  knowledge,  to  delight 
in  the  spacious  liberty  of  generalities,  as  in  a 
champaign  region,  and  not  in  the  enclosures  of 
particularity;  the  mathematics  of  all  other  know 
ledge  were  the  goodliest  fields  to  satisfy  that 
appetite. 

But  for  the  placing  of  this  science,  it  is  not 
much  material :  only  we  have  endeavoured,  in 
these  our  partitions,  to  observe  a  kind  of  perspec 
tive,  that  one  part  may  cast  light  upon  another. 

The  Mathematics  are  either  pure  or  mixed, 
To  the  pure  mathematics  are  those  sciences 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


19'J 


belonging  which  handle  quantity  determinate 
merely  severed  from  any  axioms  of  natural  phi 
losophy;  and  these  are  two,  Geometry  anc 
Arithmetic ;  the  one  handling  quantity  continued 
and  the  other  dissevered. 

Mixed  hath  for  subject  some  axioms  or  parts 
of  natural  philosophy,  and  considereth  quantity 
determined,  as  it  is  auxiliary  and  incident  unto 
them. 

For  many  parts  of  nature  can  neither  be  in 
vented  with  sufficient  subtilty,  nor  demonstrated 
with  sufficient  perspicuity,  nor  accommodated  unto 
use  with  sufficient  dexterity,  without  the  aid  and 
intervening  of  the  mathematics :  of  which  sort 
are  perspective,  music,  astronomy,  cosmography, 
architecture,  enginery,  and  divers,  others. 

In  the  mathematics  I  can  report  no  deficience, 
except  it  be  that  men  do  not  sufficiently  under 
stand  the  excellent  use  of  the  pure  mathematics, 
in  that  they  do  remedy  and  cure  many  defects  in 
the  wit  and  faculties  intellectual.  For  if  the  wit 
be  too  dull  they  sharpen  it;  if  too  wandering, 
they  fix  it ;  if  too  inherent  in  the  sense  they  ab 
stract  it.  So  that  as  tennis  is  a  game  of  no  use 
in  itself,  but  of  great  use  in  respect  it  maketh  a 
quick  eye  and  a  body  ready  to  put  itself  into  all 
postures ;  so  in  the  mathematics,  that  use  which 
is  collateral  and  intervenient  is  no  less  worthy 
than  that  which  is  principal  and  intended.  And 
as  for  the  mixed  mathematics,  I  may  only  make 
this  prediction,  that  there  cannot  fail  to  be  more 
kinds  of  them,  as  nature  grows  further  disclosed. 
Thus  much  of  natural  science,  or  the  part  of  na 
ture  speculative. 

For  Natural  Prudence,  or  the  part  operative  of 
natural  philosophy,  we  will  divide  it  into  three 
parts,  experimental,  philosophical,  and  magical ; 
which  three  parts  active  have  a  correspondence 
and  analogy  with  the  three  parts  speculative, 
natural  history,  physic,  and  metaphysic :  for 
many  operations  have  been  invented,  sometimes 
by  a  casual  incidence  and  occurrence,  sometimes 
by  a  purposed  experiment :  and  of  those  which 
have  been  found  by  an  intentional  experiment, 
some  have  been  found  out  by  varying  or  extend 
ing  the  same  experiment,  some  by  transferring 
and  compounding  divers  experiments  the  one  into 
the  other,  which  kind  of  invention  an  empiric 
may  manage. 

Again,  by  the  knowledge  of  physical  causes 
there  cannot  fail  to  follow  many  indications  and 
designations  of  new  particulars,  if  men  in  their 
speculation  will  keep  one  eye  upon  use  and  prac 
tice.  But  these  are  but  coastings  along  the  shore, 
"premendo  littus  iniquum:"  for,  it  seemeth  to 
me  there  can  hardly  be  discovered  any  radical  or 
fundamental  alterations  and  innovations  in  nature, 
either  by  the  fortune  and  essays  of  experiments, 
or  by  the  light  and  direction  of  physical  causes. 
If  therefore  we  have  reported  metaphysic  defi 
cient,  it  must  follow  that  we  do  the  like  of  natu 


ral  magic,  which  hath  relation  thereunto.  'For 
as  for  the  natural  magic  whereof  now  there  is 
mention  in  books,  containing  certain  credulous 
and  superstitious  conceits  and  observations  of 
sympathies  and  antipathies,  and  hidden  proper 
ties,  and  some  frivolous  experiments,  strange 
rather  by  disguisement  than  in  themselves,  it  is 
as  far  differing  in  truth  of  nature  from  such  a 
knowledge  as  we  require,  as  the  story  of  King 
Arthur  of  Britain,  or  Hugh  of  Bourdeaux,  differs 
from  Caesar's  Commentaries  in  truth  of  story. 
For  it  is  manifest  that  Caesar  did  greater  thinp-s 
"de  vero"  than  those  imaginary  heroes  were 
feigned  to  do;  but  he  did  them  not  in  that  fabu 
lous  manner.  Of  this  kind  of  learning  the  fable 
of  Ixion  was  a  figure,  who  designed  to  enjoy 
Juno,  the  goddess  of  power;  and  instead  of  her 
had  copulation  with  a  cloud,  of  which  mixture 
were  begotten  centaurs  and  chimeras. 

So  whosoever  shall  entertain  high  and  vaporous 
imaginations,  instead  of  a  laborious  and  sober 
inquiry  of  truth,  shall  beget  hopes  and  beliefs  of 
strange  and  impossible  shapes.  And  therefore 
we  may  note  in  these  sciences  which  hold  so 
much  of  imagination  and  belief,  as  this  degene 
rate  natural  magic,  alchymy,  astrology,  and  the 
like,  that  in  their  propositions  the  description  of 
the  mean  is  ever  more  monstrous  than  the  pre 
tence  or  end.  For  it  is  a  thing  more  probable, 
that  he  that  knoweth  well  the  natures  of  weight, 
of  colour,  of  pliant  and  fragile  in  respect  of 
the  hammer,  of  volatile  and  fixed  in  respect  of 
the  fire  and  the  rest,  may  superinduce  upon 
some  metal  the  nature  and  form  of  gold  by  such 
mechanic  as  belongeth  to  the  production  of  the 
natures  afore  rehearsed,  than  that  some  grains 
of  the  medicine  projected  should  in  a  few  mo 
ments  of  time  turn  a  sea  of  quicksilver  or  other 
material  into  gold  :  so  it  is  more  probable,  that 
he  that  knoweth  the  nature  of  arefaction,  the  na 
ture  of  assimilation  of  nourishment  to  the  thing 
nourished,  the  manner  of  increase  and  clearing 
of  spirits,  the  manner  of  the  depredations  which 
spirits  make  upon  the  humours  and  solid  parts, 
shall  by  ambages  of  diets,  bathings,  anointings, 
medicines,  motions,  and  the  like,  prolong  life,  or 
restore  some  degree  of  youth  or  vivacity,  than 
that  it  can  be  done  with  the  use  of  a  few  drops 
or  scruples  of  a  liquor  or  receipt.  To  conclude 
therefore,  the  true  natural  magic,  which  is  that 
great  liberty  and  latitude  of  operation  which  de- 
pendeth  upon  the  knowledge  of  forms,  I  may  re 
port  deficient,  as  the  relative  thereof  is. 

To  which  part,  if  we  be  serious,  and  incline 
not  to  vanities  and  plausible  discourse,  besides 
the  deriving  and  deducing  the  operations  them 
selves  from  metaphysic,  there  are  pertinent  two 
joints  of  much  purpose,  the  one  by  way  of  pre 
paration,  the  other  by  way  of  caution :  the  first 
is,  that  there  be  made  a  calendar,  resembling  an 
inventory  of  the  estate  of  man,  containing  al. 


200 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


the  inventions,  being  the  works  or  fruits  of  nature 
or  art,  which  are  now  extant,  and  whereof  man 
is  already  possessed ;  out  of  which  doth  naturally 
result  a  note,  what  things  are  yet  held  impossible, 
or  not  invented  :  which  calendar  will  be  the  more 
artificial  and  serviceable,  if  to  every  reputed  im 
possibility  you  add  what  thing  is  extant  which 
cometh  the  nearest  in  degree  to  that  impossibility ; 
to  the  end  that  by  these  optatives  and  potentials 
man's  inquiry  may  be  the  more  awake  in  deduc 
ing  direction  of  wrorks  from  the  speculation  of 
causes :  and  secondly,  that  those  experiments  be 
not  only  esteemed  which  have  an  immediate  and 
present  use,  but  those  principally  which  are  of 
most  universal  consequence  for  invention  of  other 
experiments,  and  those  which  give  more  light  to 
the  invention  of  causes  ;  for  the  invention  of  the 
mariner's  needle,  which  giveth  the  direction,  is  of 
no  less  benefit  for  navigation  than  the  invention 
of  the  sails,  which  give  the  motion. 

Thus  I  have  passed  through  natural  philosophy, 
and  the  deficiencies  thereof:  wherein  if  I  have  dif 
fered  from  the  ancient  and  received  doctrines,  and 
thereby  shall  move  contradiction ;  for  my  part,  as 
I  affect  not  to  dissent,  so  I  purpose  not  to  contend. 
If  it  be  truth, 

"Non  canirmis  surdis,  respondent  omnia  sylvae  :" 
The  voice  of  nature  will  consent,  whether  the  voice 
of  man  do  or  not.  Arid  as  Alexander  Borgia  was 
wont  to  say  of  the  expedition  of  the  French  for 
Naples,  that  they  came  with  chalk  in  their  hands  to 
mark  up  their  lodgings,  and  not  with  weapons  to 
fight ;  so  I  like  better  that  entry  of  truth  which 
cometh  peaceably,  with  chalk  to  mark  up  those 
minds  which  are  capable  to  lodge  and  harbour  it, 
than  that  which  cometh  with  pugnacity  and  con 
tention. 

But  there  remaineth  a  division  of  natural  phi 
losophy  according  to  the  report  of  the  inquiry,  and 
nothing  concerning  the  matter  or  subject:  and 
that  is  positive  and  considerative  ;  when  the  in 
quiry  reporteth  either  an  assertion  or  a  doubt. 
These  doubts  or  "  non  liquets"  are  of  two  sorts, 
particular  and  total.  For  the  first,  we  see  a  good 
example  thereof  in  Aristotle's  Problems,  which 
deserved  to  have  had  a  better  continuance  ;  but  so, 
nevertheless,  as  there  is  one  point  whereof  warn 
ing  is  to  be  given  and  taken.  The  registering  of 
doubts  hath  two  excellent  uses :  the  one,  that 
it  saveth  philosophy  from  errors  and  falsehoods  ; 
when  that  which  is  not  fully  appearing  is  not  col 
lected  into  assertion,  whereby  error  might  draw 
error,  but  is  reserved  in  doubt:  the  other,  that 
the  entry  of  doubts  is  as  so  many  suckers  or 
sponges  to  draw  use  of  knowledge  ;  insomuch  as 
that  which,  if  doubts  had  not  preceded,  a  man 
should  never  have  advised,  but  passed  it  over 
without  note,  is,  by  the  suggestion  and  solicitation 
of  doubts,  made  to  be  attended  and  applied.  But 
both  these  commodities  do  scarcely  countervail  an 
inconvenience  which  will  intrude  itself,  if  it  be 


not  debarred  ;  which  is,  that  when  a  doubt  is  once 
received,  men  labour  rather  how  to  keep  it  a  doubt 
still,  than  how  to  solve  it ;  and  accordingly  bend 
their  wits.  Of  this  we  see  familiar  example  in 
lawyers  and  scholars,  both  which,  if  they  have 
once  admitted  a  doubt  it  goeth  ever  after  author 
ized  for  a  doubt.  But  that  use  of  wit  and  know 
ledge  is  to  be  allowed,  which  laboureth  to  make 
doubtful  things  certain,  and  not  those  which  la 
bour  to  make  certain  things  doubtful.  Therefore 
these  calendars  of  doubts  I  commend  as  excellent 
things  ;  so  that  there  be  this  caution  used,  that 
when  they  be  thoroughly  sifted  and  brought  to 
resolution,  they  be  from  thenceforth  omitted,  dis 
carded,  and  not  continued  to  cherish  and  encou 
rage  men  in  doubting.  To  which  calendar  of 
doubts  or  problems,  I  advise  be  annexed  another 
calendar,  as  much  or  more  material,  which  is  a 
calendar  of  popular  errors  :  I  mean  chiefly  in 
natural  history,  such  as  pass  in  speech  and  con 
ceit,  and  are  nevertheless  apparently  detected  and 
convicted  of  untruth  ;  that  man's  knowledge  be 
not  weakened  nor  embased  by  such  dross  and 
vanity.  As  for  the  doubts  or  "  non  liquets"  gene 
ral,  or  in  total,  I  understand  those  differences  of 
opinions  touching  the  principles  of  nature,  and 
the  fundamental  points  of  the  same,  which  have 
caused  the  diversity  of  sects,  schools,  and  philo 
sophies,  as  that  of  Empedocles,  Pythagoras,  De- 
mocritus,  Parmenides,  and  the  rest.  For  although 
Aristotle,  as  though  he  had  been  of  the  race  of  the 
Ottomans,  thought  he  could  not  reign  except  the 
first  thing  he  did  he  killed  all  his  brethren ;  yet  to 
those  that  seek  truth  and  not  magistrality,  it  can 
not  but  seem  a  matter  of  great  profit,  to  see  before 
them  the  several  opinions  touching  the  founda 
tions  of  nature  :  not  for  any  exact  truth  that  can 
be  expected  in  those  theories  ;  for  as  the  same 
phenomena  in  astronomy  are  satisfied  by  the  re 
ceived  astronomy  of  the  diurnal  motion,  and  the 
proper  motions  of  the  planets,  with  their  eccen 
trics  and  epicycles,  and  likewise  by  the  theory  of 
Copernicus  who  supposed  the  earth  to  move,  (and 
the  calculations  are  indifferently  agreeable  to  both,) 
so  the  ordinary  face  and  view  of  experience  is 
many  times  satisfied  by  several  theories  and  phi 
losophies  ;  whereas  to  find  the  real  truth  requireth 
another  manner  of  severity  and  attention.  For  as 
Aristotle  saith,  that  children  at  the  first  will  call 
every  woman  mother,  but  afterwards  they  come 
to  distinguish  according  to  truth ;  so  experience, 
if  it  be  in  childhood,  will  call  every  philosophy 
mother,  but  when  it  cometh  to  ripeness,  it  will 
discern  the  true  mother.  So  as  in  the  mean  time 
it  is  good  to  see  the  several  glosses  and  opinions 
upon  nature,  whereof,  it  may  be,  every  one  in 
some  one  point  hath  seen  clearer  than  his  fellows, 
therefore,  I  wish  some  collection  to  be  made, 
painfully  and  understandingly,  "  de  antiquis  phi- 
losophiis,"  out  of  all  the  possible  light  which  re 
maineth  to  us  of  them  :  which  kind  of  work  I  find 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


201 


deficient.  But  here  I  must  give  warning,  that  it 
be  done  distinctly  and  severally  ;  the  philosophies 
of  every  one  throughout  by  themselves,  and  not 
by  titles  packed  and  fagoted  up  together,  as  hath 
been  done  by  Plutarch.  For  it  is  the  harmony  of 
a  philosophy  in  itself  which  giveth  it  light  and 
credence ;  whereas  if  it  be  singled  and  broken,  it 
will  seem  more  foreign  and  dissonant.  For  as 
when  I  read  in  Tacitus  the  actions  of  Nero,  or 
Claudius,  with  circumstances  of  times,  induce 
ments,  and  occasions,  I  find  them  not  so  strange  ; 
but  when  I  read  them  in  Suetonius  Tranquillus, 
gathered  into  titles  and  bundles,  and  not  in  order 
of  time,  they  seem  more  monstrous  and  incredible  : 
so  is  it  of  any  philosophy  reported  entire,  and  dis 
membered  by  articles.  Neither  do  I  exclude 
opinions  of  latter  times  to  be  likewise  represented 
in  this  calendar  of  sects  of  philosophy,  us  that  of 
Theophrastus  Paracelsus,  eloquently  reduced  into 
a  harmony  by  the  pen  of  Severinus  the  Dane ; 
and  that  of  Tilesius,  and  his  scholar  Donius, 
being  as  a  pastoral  philosophy,  full  of  sense,  but 
of  no  great  depth  ;  and  that  of  Fracastorius,  who, 
though  he  pretended  not  to  make  any  new  phi 
losophy,  yet  did  use  the  absoluteness  of  his  own 
sense  upon  the  old ;  and  that  of  Gilbertus  our 
countryman,  who  revived,  with  some  alterations 
and  demonstrations,  the  opinions  of  Xenophanes; 
and  any  other  worthy  to  be  admitted. 

Thus  have  we  now  dealt  with  two  of  the  three 
beams  of  man's  knowledge;  that  is,  "radius 
directus,"  which  is  referred  to  nature;  "radius 
refractus,"  which  is  referred  to  God ;  and  cannot 
report  truly  because  of  the  inequality  of  the  me 
dium  :  there  resteth  "radius  refiexus,"  whereby 
man  beholdeth  and  contemplateth  himself. 

We  come  therefore  now  to  that  knowledge 
whereunto  the  ancient  oracle  directeth  us,  which 
is  the  knowledge  of  ourselves ;  which  deserveth 
the  more  accurate  handling,  by  how  much  it 
toucheth  us  more  nearly.  This  knowledge,  as  it 
is  the  end  and  term  of  natural  philosophy  in  the 
intention  of  man,  so  notwithstanding,  it  is  but  a 
portion  of  natural  philosophy  in  the  continent  of 
nature :  and  generally  let  this  be  a  rule,  that  all 
partitions  of  knowledges  be  accepted  rather  for 
lines  and  veins,  than  for  sections  and  separations ; 
and  that  the  continuance  and  entireness  of  know 
ledge  be  preserved.  For  the  contrary  hereof  hath 
made  particular  sciences  to  become  barren,  shal 
low,  and  erroneous,  while  they  have  not  been 
nourished  and  maintained  from  the  common 
fountain.  So  we  see  Cicero  the  orator  complain 
ed  of  Socrates  and  his  school,  that  he  was  the 
first  that  separated  philosophy  and  rhetoric ; 
whereupon  rhetoric  became  an  empty  and  verbal 
art.  So  we  may  see  that  the  opinion  of  Coperni 
cus  touching  the  rotation  of  the  earth,  which  as 
tronomy  itself  cannot  correct,  because  it  is  not 
repugnant  t<  any  of  the  phenomena,  yet  natural 
philosophy  may  correct.  So  we  see  also  that  the 
VOL  I.— af 


science  of  medicine,  if  it  be  destituted  and  for 
saken  by  natural  philosophy,  it  is  not  much  bet 
ter  than  an  empirical  practice.  With  this  reser 
vation,  therefore,  we  proceed  to  Human  Philoso 
phy,  or  Humanity,  which  hath  two  parts:  the 
one  considereth  man  segregate,  or  distributively ; 
the  other  congregate,  or  in  society.  So  is  human 
philosophy  either  simple  and  particular,  or  conju 
gate  and  civil.  Humanity  particular  consisteth 
of  the  same  parts  whereof  man  consisteth ;  that 
is,  of  knowledges  which  respect  the  body,  and  of 
knowledges  that  respect  the  mind  ;  but  before  we 
distribute  so  far,  it  is  good  to  constitute.  For  I 
do  take  the  consideration  in  general,  and  at  large, 
of  human  nature  to  be  fit  to  be  emancipate  and 
made  a  knowledge  by  itself:  not  so  much  in  re 
gard  of  those  delightful  and  elegant  discourses 
which  have  been  made  of  the  dignity  of  man,  of 
his  miseries,  of  his  state  and  life,  and  the  like  ad 
juncts  of  his  common  and  undivided  nature  ;  but 
chiefly  in  regard  of  the  knowledge  concerning  the 
sympathies  and  concordances  between  the  mind 
and  body,  which  being  mixed  cannot  be  properly 
assigned  to  the  sciences  of  either. 

This  knowledge  hath  two  branches:  for  as  all 
leagues  and  amities  consist  of  mutual  intelligence 
and  mutual  offices,  so  this  league  of  mind  and 
body  hath  these  two  parts;  how  the  one  dis- 
closeth  the  other,  and  how  the  one  worketh  upon 
the  other ;  Discovery,  and  Impression.  The  for 
mer  of  these  hath  begotten  two  arts,  both  of  pre 
diction  or  prenotion ;  whereof  the  one  is  honoured 
with  the  inquiry  of  Aristotle,  and  the  other  of 
Hippocrates.  And  although  they  have  of  later 
time  been  used  to  be  coupled  with  superstitious 
and  fantastical  arts,  yet  being  purged  and  restored 
to  their  true  state,  they  have  both  of  them  a  solid 
ground  in  nature,  and  a  profitable  use  in  life. 
The  first  is  physiognomy,  which  discovereth  the 
disposition  of  the  mind  by  the  lineaments  of  the 
body :  the  second  is  the  exposition  of  natural 
dreams,  which  discovereth  the  state  of  the  body 
by  the  imaginations  of  the  mind.  In  the  former 
of  these  I  note  a  deficience.  For  Aristotle  hath 
very  ingeniously  and  diligently  handled  the  fea 
tures  of  the  body,  but  not  the  gestures  of  the 
body,  which  are  no  less  comprehensible  by  art, 
and  of  greater  use  and  advantage.  For  the  linea 
ments  of  the  body  do  disclose  the  disposition  and 
inclination  of  the  mind  in  general;  but  the  mo 
tions  of  the  countenance  and  parts  do  not  only  so, 
but  do  further  disclose  the  present  humour  and 
state  of  the  mind  and  will.  For  as  your  majesty 
saith  most  aptly  and  elegantly,  "  As  the  tongue 
speaketh  to  the  ear,  so  the  gesture  speaketh  to  the 


eye 


And  therefore  a  number  of  subtle  persons, 


whose  eyes  do  dwell  upon  the  faces  and  fashions 
of  men,  do  well  know  the  advantage  of  this  obser 
vation,  as  being  most  part  of  their  ability ;  neither 
can  it  be  denied,  but  that  it  is  a  great  discovery  of 
dissimulations,  and  a  great  direction  in  business 


202 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


The  latter  branch,  touching  impression,  hath 
not  been  collected  into  art,  but  hath  been  handled 
dispersedly ;  and  it  hath  the  same  relation  or  anti- 
strophe  that  the  former  hath.  For  the  considera 
tion  is  double :  "  Either  how,  and  how  far  the 
humours  and  aifects  of  the  body  do  alter  or  work 
upon  the  mind ;  or  again,  how  and  how  far  the 
passions  or  apprehensions  of  the  mind  do  alter  or 
work  upon  the  body."  The  former  of  these  hath 
been  inquired  and  considered  as  a  part  and  appen 
dix  of  medicine,  but  much  more  as  a  part  of  reli 
gion  or  superstition.  For  the  physician  pre- 
scribeth  cures  of  the  mind  in  phrensies  and 
melancholy  passions ;  and  pretendeth  also  to 
exhibit  medicines  to  exhilarate  the  mind,  to  con 
firm  the  courage,  to  clarify  the  wits,  to  corrobo 
rate  the  memory,  and  the  like :  but  the  scruples 
and  superstitions  of  diet  and  other  regimen  of  the 
body  in  the  sect  of  the  Pythagoreans,  in  the  heresy 
of  the  Manicheans,  and  in  the  law  of  Mahomet, 
do  exceed.  So  likewise  the  ordinances  in  the 
ceremonial  law,  interdicting  the  eating  of  the 
blood  and  fat,  distinguishing  between  beasts  clean 
and  unclean  for  meat,  are  many  and  strict.  Nay, 
the  faith  itself  being  clear  and  serene  from  all 
clouds  of  ceremony,  yet  retaineth  the  use  of  fast 
ings,  abstinences,  and  other  macerations  and  hu 
miliations  of  the  body,  as  things  real,  and  not 
figurative.  The  root  and  life  of  all  which  pre 
scripts  is,  besides  the  ceremony,  the  consideration 
of  that  dependency  which  the  affections  of  the 
mind  are  submitted  unto  upon  the  state  and  dis 
position  of  the  body.  And  if  any  man  of  weak 
judgment  do  conceive  that  this  suffering  of  the 
mind  from  the  body  doth  either  question  the  im 
mortality,  or  derogate  from  the  sovereignty  of  the 
soul,  he  may  be  taught  in  easy  instances,  that  the 
infant  in  the  mother's  womb  is  compatible  with 
the  mother  and  yet  separable ;  and  the  most  abso 
lute  monarch  is  sometimes  led  by  his  servants, 
and  yet  without  subjection.  As  for  the  reciprocal 
knowledge,  which  is  the  operation  of  the  conceits 
and  passions  of  the  mind  upon  the  body,  we  see 
all  the  wise  physicians,  in  the  prescriptions  of 
their  regimens  to  their  patients,  do  ever  consider 
"  accidentia  animi"  as  of  great  force  to  further 
or  hinder  remedies  or  recoveries :  and  more  es 
pecially  it  is  an  inquiry  of  great  depth  and  worth 
concerning  imagination,  how  and  how  far  it 
altereth  the  body  proper  of  the  imaginant.  For 
although  it  hath  a  manifest  power  to  hurt,  it  fol- 
loweth  not  it  hath  the  same  degree  of  power  to 
help ;  no  more  than  a  man  can  conclude,  that  be 
cause  there  be  pestilent  airs,  able  suddenly  to  kill 
a  man  in  health,  therefore  there  should  be  sove 
reign  airs,  able  suddenly  to  cure  a  man  in  sick 
ness  But  the  inquisition  of  this  part  is  of  great 
use,  though  it  needeth,  as  Socrates  said,  "a 
Delian  diver,"  being  difficult  and  profound.  But 
unto  all  this  knowledge  "  de  communi  vinculo," 
of  the  concordances  between  the  mind  and  the 


body,  that  part  of  inquiry  is  most  necessary, 
which  considereth  of  the  seats  and  domiciles 
which  the  several  faculties  of  the  mind  do  take 
and  occupate  in  the  organs  of  the  body ;  which 
knowledge  hath  been  attempted,  and  is  contro 
verted,  and  deserveth  to  be  much  better  inquired. 
For  the  opinion  of  Plato,  who  placed  the  under 
standing  in  the  brain ;  animosity  (which  he  did 
unfitly  call  anger,  having  a  greater  mixture  with 
pride)  in  the  heart ;  and  concupiscence  or  sen 
suality  in  the  liver,  deserveth  not  to  be  despised ; 
but  much  less  to  be  allowed.  So  then  we  have 
constituted,  as  in  our  own  wish  and  advice,  the 
inquiry  touching  human  nature  entire,  as  a  just 
portion  of  knowledge  to  be  handled  apart. 

The  knowledge  that  concerneth  man's  Body  is 
divided  as  the  good  of  man's  body  is  divided, 
unto  which  it  referreth.  The  good  of  man's  body 
is  of  four  kinds,  health,  beauty,  strength,  and 
pleasure  :  so  the  knowledges  are  medicine,  or  art 
of  cure ;  art  of  decoration,  which  is  called  cos 
metic;  art  of  activity,  which  is  called  athletic ; 
and  art  voluptuary,  which  Tacitus  truly  calleth 
"  eruditus  luxus."  This  subject  of  man's  body  is 
of  all  other  things  in  nature  most  susceptible  of 
remedy ;  but  then  that  remedy  is  most  susceptible 
of  error.  For  the  same  sub  til  ty  of  the  subject 
doth  cause  large  possibility  and  easy  failing  ;  and 
therefore  the  inquiry  ought  to  be  more  exact. 

To  speak  therefore  of  medicine,  and  to  resume 
that  we  have  said,  ascending  a  little  higher  ;  the 
ancient  opinion  that  man  was  microcosrnus,  an 
abstract  or  model  of  the  world,  hath  been  fantas 
tically  strained  by  Paracelsus  and  the  alchymists, 
as  if  there  were  to  be  found  in  man's  body  certain 
correspondences  and  parallels,  which  should  have 
respect  to  all  varieties  of  things,  as  stars,  planets, 
minerals,  which  are  extant  in  the  great  world. 
But  thus  much  is  evidently  true,  that  of  all  sub 
stances  which  nature  hath  produced,  man's  body 
is  the  most  extremely  compounded :  for  we  see 
herbs  and  plants  are  nourished  by  earth  and  wa 
ter;  beasts  for  the  most  part  by  herbs  and  fruits; 
man  by  the  flesh  of  beasts,  birds,  fishes,  herbs, 
grains,  fruits,  water,  and  the  manifold  alterations, 
dressings,  and  preparations  of  these  several  bodies, 
before  they  come  to  be  his  food  and  aliment.  Add 
hereunto,  that  beasts  have  a  more  simple  order  of 
life,  and  less  change  of  affections  to  work  upon 
their  bodies  :  whereas  man  in  his  mansion,  sleep, 
exercise,  passions,  hath  infinite  variations  :  and 
it  cannot  be  denied  but  that  the  body  of  man  of 
all  other  things  is  of  the  most  compounded  mass. 
The  soul  on  the  other  side  is  the  simplest  of  sub 
stances,  as  is  well  expressed : 

"Purumque  reliquit 
JEthereum  sensum  atque  aura'i  simplicis  ignem." 

So  that  it  is  no  marvel  though  the  soul  so  placed 
enjoy  no  rest,  if  that  principle  be  true,  that  "  Motus 
rerum  est  rapidus  extra  locum,  placidus  in  loco 
But  to  the  purpose :  this  variable  composition  of 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


203 


man's  body  hath  made  it  as  an  instrument  easy  to 
distemper;  and  therefore  the  poets  did  well  to 
conjoin  music  and  medicine  in  Apollo  :  because 
the  office  of  medicine  is  but  to  tune  this  curious 
harp  of  man's  body  and  to  reduce  it  to  harmony. 
So  then  the  subject  being  so  variable,  hath  made 
the  art  by  consequence  more  conjectural ;  an  art 
being  conjectural  hath  made  so  much  the  more 
place  to  be  left  for  imposture.  For  almost  all 
other  arts  and  sciences  are  judged  by  acts  or  mas 
terpieces,  as  I  may  term  them,  and  not  by  the 
successes  and  events.  The  lawyer  is  judged  .by 
the  virtue  of  his  pleading,  and  not  by  the  issue  of 
the  cause.  The  master  of  the  ship  is  judged  by 
the  directing  his  course  aright,  and  not  by  the  for 
tune  of  the  voyage.  But  the  physician,  and  per 
haps  the  politician,  hath  no  particular  acts  demon 
strative  of  his  ability,  but  is  judged  most  by  the 
event ;  which  is  ever  but  as  it  is  taken :  for  who 
can  tell,  if  a  patient  die  or  recover,  or  if  a  state 
be  preserved  or  ruined,  whether  it  be  art  or  acci 
dent?  And  therefore  many  times  the  impostor  is 
prized,  and  the  man  of  virtue  taxed.  Nay,  we 
see  the  weakness  and  credulity  of  men  is  such, 
as  they  will  often  prefer  a  mountebank  or  witch 
before  a  learned  physician.  And  therefore  the 
poets  were  clear-sighted  in  discerning  this  extreme 
folly,  when  they  made  ^Esculapius  and  Circe 
brother  and  sister,  both  children  of  the  sun,  as  in 
the  verses,  ./En.  vii.  772. 

"  Ipse  repertorem  medicinse  talis  et  artis 
Fulmine  Phcebigenam  Stygias  detrusit  ad  undas  :" 

And  again,  jfEn.  vii.  11. 

"Dives  inaccessos  ubi  Solis  filia  lucos,"  &c. 

For  in  all  times,  in  the  opinion  of  the  multitude, 
witches  and  old  women  and  impostors  have  had  a 
competition  with  physicians.  And  what  follow- 
eth?  Even  this,  that  physicians  say  to  them 
selves,  as  Solomon  expresseth  it  upon  a  higher 
occasion ;  "  If  it  befall  to  me  as  befalleth  to  the 
fools,  why  should  I  labour  to  be  more  wise?" 
And  therefore  I  cannot  much  blame  physicians, 
that  the  use  commonly  to  intend  some  other  art  or 
practice,  which  they  fancy  more  than  their  pro 
fession.  For  you  shall  have  of  them  antiquaries, 
poets,  humanists,  statesmen,  merchants,  divines, 
and  in  every  of  these  better  seen  than  in  their 
profession ;  and  no  doubt  upon  this  ground,  that 
they  find  that  mediocrity  and  excellency  in  their 
art  maketh  no  difference  in  profit  or  reputation 
towards  their  fortune;  for  the  weakness  of  pa 
tients,  and  sweetness  of  life,  and  nature  of  hope, 
maketh  men  depend  upon  physicians  with  all 
their  defects.  But,  nevertheless,  these  things 
which  we  have  spoken  of,  are  courses  begotten ' 
between  a  little  occasion,  and  a  great  deal  of  sloth  | 
and  default ;  for  if  we  will  excite  and  awake  our 
observation,  we  shall  see  in  familiar  instances 
what  a  predominant  faculty  the  subtilty  of  spirit 
hath  over  the  variety  of  matter  of  form.  Nothing  ! 


more  variable  than  faces  and  countenances ;  yet 
men  can  bear  in  memory  the  infinite  distinctions 
of  them ;  nay,  a  painter  with  a  few  shells  of  co 
lours,  and  the  benefit  of  his  eye,  and  habit  of  his 
imagination,  can  imitate  them  all  that  ever  have 
been,  are,  or  may  be,  if  they  were  brought  before 
him.  Nothing  more  variable  than  voices;  yet 
men  can  likewise  discern  them  personally :  nay, 
you  shall  have  a  buffoon,  or  pantomimus,  who 
will  express  as  many  as  he  pleaseth.  Nothing 
more  variable  than  the  differing  sounds  of  words ; 
yet  men  have  found  the  way  to  reduce  them  to  a 
few  simple  letters.  So  that  it  is  not  the  insuffi 
ciency  or  incapacity  of  man's  mind,  but  it  is  the 
remote  standing  or  placing  thereof,  that  breedeth 
these  mazes  and  incomprehensions :  for  as  the 
sense  afar  off  is  full  of  mistaking,  but  is  exact  at 
hand,  so  is  it  of  the  understanding;  the  remedy 
whereof  is,  not  to  quicken  or  strengthen  the  or 
gan,  but  to  go  nearer  to  the  object;  and  therefore 
there  is  no  doubt  but  if  the  physicians  will  learn 
and  use  the  true  approaches  and  avenues  of  na 
ture,  they  may  assume  as  much  as  the  poet  saith  : 

"  Et  quoniam  variant  mnrbi,  variabimus  artes  ; 
Mille  niali  species,  mille  salutis  erunt." 

Which  that  they  should  do,  the  nobleness  of  their 
art  doth  deserve ;  well  shadowed  by  the  poets,  in 
that  they  made  jEsculapius  to  be  the  son  of  the 
sun,  the  one  being  the  fountain  of  life,  the  other 
as  the  second  stream  :  but  infinitely  more  honour 
ed  by  the  example  of  our  Saviour,  who  made  the 
body  of  man  the  object  of  his  miracles  as  the  soul 
was  the  object  of  his  doctrine.  For  we  read  not 
that  ever  he  vouchsafed  to  do  any  miracle  about 
honour  or  money,  except  that  one  for  giving  tri 
bute  to  Caesar;  but  only  about  the  preserving, 
sustaining,  and  healing  the  body  of  man. 

Medicine  is  a  science  which  hath  been,  as  we 
have  said,  more  professed  than  laboured,  and  yet 
more  laboured  than  advanced ;  the  labour  having 
been,  in  my  judgment,  rather  in  circle  than  in 
progression.  P'or  I  find  much  iteration,  but  small 
addition.  It  considereth  causes  of  diseases,  with 
the  occasions  or  impulsions ;  the  diseases  them 
selves,  with  the  accidents ;  and  the  cures,  with 
the  preservations.  The  deficiencies  which  I  think 
good  to  note,  being  a  few  of  many,  and  those  such 
as  are  of  a  more  open  and  manifest  nature,  I  will 
enumerate,  and  not  place. 

The  first  is  the  discontinuance  of  the  ancient 
and  serious  diligence  of  Hippocrates,  which  used 
to  set  down  a  narrative  of  the  special  cases  of  his 
patients,  and  how  they  proceeded,  and  how  they 
were  judged  by  'recovery  or  death.  Therefore 
having  an  example  proper  in  the  father  of  the  art, 
I  shall  not  need  to  allege  an  example  foreign,  of 
the  wisdom  of  the  lawyers,  who  are  careful  to 
report  new  cases  and  decisions,  for  the  direction 
of  future  judgments.  This  continuance  of  Medi 
cinal  History  I  find  deficient ;  which  I  understand 
neither  to  be  so  infinite  as  to  extend  to  every  com* 


204 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


znon  case,  nor  so  reserved  as  to  admit  none  but 
wonders ;  for  many  things  are  new  in  the  manner, 
which  are  not  new  in  the  kind ;  and  if  men  will 
intend  to  observe,  they  shall  find  much  worthy  to 
observe. 

In  the  inquiry  which  is  made  by  anatomy  I  find 
much  deficience :  for  they  inquire  of  the  parts,  and 
their  substances,  figures,  and  collocations ;  but 
they  inquire  not  of  the  diversities  of  the  parts, 
the  secrecies  of  the  passages,  and  the  seats  or 
nestlings  of  the  humours,  nor  much  of  the  foot 
steps  and  impressions  of  diseases :  the  reason  of 
which  omission  I  suppose  to  be,  because  the  first 
inquiry  may  be  satisfied  in  the  view  of  one  or  a 
few  anatomies ;  but  the  latter,  being  comparative 
and  casual,  must  arise  from  the  view  of  many. 
And  as  to  the  diversity  of  parts,  there  is  no  doubt 
but  the  facture  or  framing  of  the  inward  parts  is 
as  full  of  differences  as  the  outward,  and  in  that 
is  the  cause  continent  of  many  diseases ;  which 
not  being  observed,  they  quarrel  many  times  with 
the  humours,  which  are  not  in  fault;  the  fault 
being  in  the  very  frame  and  mechanic  of  the  part, 
which  cannot  be  removed  by  medicine  alterative, 
but  must  be  accommodate  and  palliate  by  diets 
and  medicines  familiar.  As  for  the  passages  and 
pores,  it  is  true,  which  was  anciently  noted,  that 
the  more  subtile  of  them  appear  not  in  anatomies, 
because  they  are  shut  and  latent  in  dead  bodies, 
though  they  be  open  and  manifest  in  live ;  which 
being  supposed,  though  the  inhumanity  of  "ana- 
tomia  vivorum"  was  by  Celsus  justly  reproved; 
yet  in  regard  of  the  great  use  of  this  observation, 
the  inquiry  needed  not  by  him  so  slightly  to  have 
been  relinquished  altogether,  or  referred  to  the 
casual  practices  of  surgery ;  but  might  have  been 
well  diverted  upon  the  dissection  of  beasts  alive, 
which  notwithstanding  the  dissimilitude  of  their 
parts,  may  sufficiently  satisfy  this  inquiry.  And 
for  the  humours,  they  are  commonly  passed  over 
in  anatomies  as  purgaments ;  whereas  it  is  most 
necessary  to  observe,  what  cavities,  nests,  and 
receptacles  the  humours  do  find  in  the  parts,  with 
the  differing  kind  of  the  humours  so  lodged  and 
received.  And  as  for  the  footsteps  of  diseases, 
and  their  devastations  of  the  inward  parts,  im- 
posthumations,  exulcerations,  discontinuations, 
putrefactions,  consumptions,  contractions,  exten 
sions,  convulsions,  dislocations,  obstructions,  re 
pletions,  together  with  all  preternatural  substances, 
as  stones,  carnosities,  excrescences,  worms,  and 
the  like ;  they  ought  to  have  been  exactly 
observed  by  multitude  of  anatomies,  and  the  con 
tribution  of  men's  several  experiences,  and  care 
fully  set  down,  both  historically,  according  to  the 
appearances,  and  artificially,  with  a  reference  to 
the  diseases  and  symptoms  which  result  from 
them,  in  case  where  the  anatomy  is  of  a  defunct 
patient;  whereas  nOw:  upon  opening  of  bodies, 
they  are  passed  over  slightly  and  in  silence. 

In  the  inquiry  of  diseases,  they  do  abandon  the 


cures  of  many,  some  as  in  their  nature  incurable, 
and  others  as  past  the  period  of  cure ;  so  that 
Sylla  and  the  triumvirs  never  proscribed  so  many 
men  to  die,  as  they  do  by  their  ignorant  edicts  ; 
whereof  numbers  do  escape  with  less  difficulty 
than  they  did  in  the  Roman  proscriptions.  There 
fore  I  will  not  doubt  to  note  as  a  deficience,  that 
they  inquire  not  the  perfect  cures  of  many  di 
seases,  or  extremities  of  diseases ;  but,  pronounc 
ing  them  incurable  do  enact  a  law  of  neglect,  and 
exempt  ignorance  from  discredit. 

Nay,  farther,  I  esteem  it  the  office  of  a  physician 
not  only  to  restore  health,  but  to  mitigate  pain, 
and  dolours ;  and  not  only  when  such  mitigation 
may  conduce  to  recovery,  but  when  it  may  serve 
to  make  a  fair  and  easy  passage  :  for  it  is  no  small 
felicity  which  Augustus  Caesar  was  wont  to  wish 
to  himself,  that  same  "  euthanasia ;"  and  which 
was  specially  noted  in  the  death  of  Antoninus  Pius, 
whose  death  was  after  the  fashion  and  semblance 
of  a  kindly  and  pleasant  sleep.  So  it  is  written 
of  Epicurus,  that  after  his  disease  was  judged 
desperate,  he  drowned  his  stomach  and  senses 
with  a  large  draught  and  ingurgitation  of  wine , 
whereupon  the  epigram  was  made,  "Hinc  Stygias 
ebrius  hausit  aquas;"  he  was  not  sober  enough 
to  taste  any  bitterness  of  the  Stygian  water.  But 
the  physicians,  contrariwise,  do  make  a  kind  of 
scruple  and  religion  to  stay  with  the  patient  after 
the  disease  is  deplored;  whereas,  in  my  judg 
ment,  they  ought  both  to  inquire  the  skill,  and  to 
give  the  attendances,  for  the  facilitating  and  as 
suaging  of  the  pains  and  agonies  of  death. 

In  the  consideration  of  the  cures  of  diseases, 
I  find  a  deficience  in  the  receipts  of  propriety, 
respecting  the  particular  cures  of  diseases :  for 
the  physicians  have  frustrated  the  fruit  of  tradi 
tion  and  experience  by  their  magistralities,  in 
adding,  and  taking  out,  and  changing  "  quid  pro 
quo,"  in  their  receipts,  at  their  pleasures ;  com 
manding  so  over  the  medicine,  as  the  medicine 
cannot  command  over  the  diseases :  for  except  it 
be  treacle  and  mithridatum,  and  of  late  diascor- 
dium,  and  a  few  more,  they  tie  themselves  to  no 
receipts  severely  arid  religiously :  for  as  to  the 
confections  of  sale  which  are  in  the  shops,  they 
are  for  readiness,  and  not  for  propriety ;  for  they 
are  upon  general  intentions  of  purging,  opening, 
comforting,  altering,  and  not  much  appropriate  to 
particular  diseases:  and  this  is  the  cause  why 
empirics  and  old  women  are  more  happy  many 
times  in  their  cures  than  learned  physicians,  be 
cause  they  are  more  religious  in  holding  their 
medicines.  Therefore  here  is  the  deficience  which 
I  find,  that  physicians  have  not,  partly  out  of  their 
own  practice,  partly  out  of  the  constant  proba 
tions  reported  in  books,  and  partly  out  of  the 
traditions  of  empirics,  set  down  and  delivered 
over  certain  experimental  medicines  for  the  cure 
of  particular  diseases,  besides  their  own  conjec 
tural  and  magistral  descriptions.  For  as  they 


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ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


205 


were  the  men  of  the  best  composition  in  the  state 
of  Rome,  which  either  being  consuls  inclined  tc 
the  people,  or  being  tribunes  inclined  to  the  se 
nate ;  so  in  the  matter  we  now  handle,  they  b< 
the  best  physicians,  which  being  learned  incline 
to  the  traditions  of  experience,  or  being  empirics 
incline  to  the  methods  of  learning. 

In  preparation  of  medicines,  I  do  find  strange 
especially  considering  how  mineral  medicines 
have  been  extolled,  and  that  they  are  safer  for  the 
outward  than  inward  parts,  that  no  man  hath 
sought  to  make  an  imitation  by  art  of  natura 
baths  and  medicinable  fountains;  which  never 
theless  are  professed  to  receive  their  virtues  from 
minerals  :  and  not  so  only,  but  discerned  and  dis 
tinguished  from  what  particular  mineral  they  re 
ceive  tincture,  as  sulphur,  vitriol,  steel,  or  the 
like;  which  nature,  if  it  may  be  reduced  to  com 
positions  of  art,  both  the  variety  of  them  will  be 
increased,  and  the  temper  of  them  will  be  more 
commanded. 

But  lest  I  grow  to  be  more  particular  than  is 
agreeable  either  to  my  intention  or  to  proportion, 
I  will  conclude  this  part  with  the  note  of  one 
deficience  more,  which  seemeth  to  me  of  greatest 
consequence ;  which  is  that  the  prescripts  in  use 
are  too  compendious  to  attain  their  end :  for,  to 
my  understanding,  it  is  a  vain  and  nattering  opi 
nion  to  think  any  medicine  can  be  so  sovereign  or 
so  happy,  as  that  the  receipt  or  use  of  it  can  work 
any  great  effect  upon  the  body  of  man.  It  were 
a  strange  speech,  which,  spoken,  or  spoken  oft, 
should  reclaim  a  man  from  a  vice  to  which  he 
were  by  nature  subject:  it  is  order,  pursuit,  se 
quence,  and  interchange  of  application,  which  is 
mighty  in  nature ;  which,  although  it  require 
more  exact  knowledge  in  prescribing,  and  more 
precise  obedience  in  observing,  yet  is  recompens 
ed  with  the  magnitude  of  effects.  And  although 
a  man  would  think,  by  the  daily  visitations  of  the 
physicians,  that  there  were  a  pursuance  in  the 
cure ;  yet  let  a  man  look  into  their  prescripts  and 
ministrations,  and  he  shall  find  them  but  incon 
stancies  and  every  days'  devices,  without  any 
settled  providence  or  project.  Not  that  every 
scrupulous  or  superstitious  prescript  is  effectual, 
no  more  than  every  straight  way  is  the  way  to 
heaven  ;  but  the  truth  of  the  direction  must  pre 
cede  severity  of  observance. 

For  Cosmetic,  it  hath  parts  civil,  and  parts 
effeminate :  for  cleanness  of  body  was  ever  es 
teemed  to  proceed  from  a  due  reverence  to  God, 
to  society,  and  to  ourselves.  As  for  artificial  de 
coration,  it  is  well  worthy  of  the  deficiencies  which 
it  hath ;  being  neither  fine  enough  to  deceive,  nor 
handsome  to  use,  nor  wholesome  to  please. 

For  Athletic,  I  take  the  subject  of  it  largely, 
that  is  to  say,  for  any  point  of  ability  whereunto 
the  body  of  man  may  be  brought,  whether  it  be 
of  activity,  or  of  patience ;  whereof  activity  hath 
two  parts,  strength  and  swiftness ;  and  patience 


likewise  hath  two  parts,  hardness  against  wants 
and  extremities,  and  indurance  of  pain  or  tor 
ment  :  whereof  we  see  the  practices  in  tumblers, 
in  savages,  and  in  those  that  surfer  punishment : 
nay,  if  there  be  any  other  faculty  which  falls  not 
within  any  of  the  former  divisions,  as  in  those 
that  dive,  that  obtain  a  strange  power  of  contain 
ing  respiration,  and  the  like,  I  refer  it  to  this 
part.  Of  these  things  the  practices  are  known, 
but  the  philosophy  that  concerneth  them  is  not 
much  inquired  ;  the  rather,  I  think,  because  they 
are  supposed  to  be  obtained,  either  by  an  aptness 
of  nature,  which  cannot  be  taught,  or  only  by 
continual  custom,  which  is  soon  prescribed ; 
which  though  it  be  not  true,  yet  I  forbear  to  note 
any  deficiencies:  for  the  Olympian  games  are 
down  long  since,  and  the  mediocrity  of  these 
things  is  for  use ;  as  for  the  excellency  of  them, 
it  serveth  for  the  most  part  but  for  mercenary 
ostentation. 

For  arts  of  pleasure  sensual,  the  chief  deficience 
in  them  is  of  laws  to  repress  them.  For  as  it 
hath  been  well  observed,  that  the  arts  which 
flourish  in  times  while  virtue  is  in  growth,  are 
military;  and  while  virtue  is  in  state,  are  liberal ; 
and  while  virtue  is  in  declination,  are  voluptuary ; 
so  I  doubt  that  this  age  of  the  world  is  somewhat 
upon  the  descent  of  the  wheel.  With  arts  volup 
tuary  I  couple  practices  joculary;  for  the  deceiving 
of  the  senses  is  one  of  the  pleasures  of  the  senses. 
As  for  games  of  recreation,  I  hold  them  to  belong 
to  civil  life  and  education.  And  thus  much  of 
that  particular  human  philosophy  which  concerns 
the  body,  which  is  but  the  tabernacle  of  the  mind. 

For  Human  Knowledge  which  concerns  the 
Mind,  it  hath  two  parts ;  the  one  that  inquireth 
of  the  substance  or  nature  of  the  soul  or  mind, 
the  other  that  inquireth  of  the  faculties  or  func 
tions  thereof.  Unto  the  first  of  these,  the  coi.- 
siderations  of  the  original  of  the  soul,  whether  ,", 

native  or  adventive,  and  how  far  it  is  exempted 
Torn  laws  of  matter,  and  of  the  immortality 
thereof,  and  many  other  points  do  appertain : 
which  have  been  not  more  laboriously  inquired 
,han  variously  reported  :  so  as  the  travail  therein 
taken  seemeth  to  have  been  rather  in  a  maze  than 
n  a  way.  But  although  I  am  of  opinion  that 
;his  knowledge  may  be  more  really  and  soundly 
nquired,  even  in  nature,  than  it  hath  been ;  yet 
!  hold  that  in  the  end  it  must  be  bounded  by 
•eligion,  or  else  it  will  be  subject  to  deceit  and 
lelusion :  for  as  the  substance  of  the  soul  in  the 
creation  was  not  extracted  out  of  the  mass  of 
heaven  and  earth  by  the  benediction  of  a  "  pro- 
ducat,"  but  was  immediately  inspired  from  God : 
io  it  is  not  possible  that  it  should  be  otherwise 
han  by  accident,  subject  to  the  laws  of  heaven 
and  earth,  which  are  the  subject  of  philosophy ; 
ind  therefore  the  true  knowledge  of  the  nature 
.nd  state  of  the  soul  must  come  by  the  same  in- 
piration  that  gave  the  substance.  Unto  this 
S 


206 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


part  of  knowledge  touching  the  soul  there  be  two 
appendices ;  which,  as  they  have  been  handled, 
have  rather  vapoured  forth  fables  than  kindled 
truth,  divination  and  fascination. 

Divination  hath  been  anciently  and  fitly  divided 
into  artificial  and  natural ;  whereof  artificial  is, 
when  the  mind  maketh  a  prediction  by  argument, 
concluding  upon  signs  and  tokens ;  natural  is, 
when  the  mind  hath  a  presentation  by  an  internal 
power,  without  the  inducement  of  a  sign.  Arti 
ficial  is  of  two  sorts ;  either  when  the  argument 
is  coupled  with  a  derivation  of  causes,  which  is 
rational ;  or  when  it  is  only  grounded  upon  a 
coincidence  of  the  effect,  which  is  experimental  : 
whereof  the  latter  for  the  most  part  is  super 
stitious  ;  such  as  were  heathen  observations  upon 
the  inspection  of  sacrifices,  the  flights  of  birds, 
the  swarming  of  bees;  and  such  as  was  the 
Chaldean  astrology,  and  the  like.  For  artificial 
divination,  the  several  kinds  thereof  are  distri 
buted  amongst  particular  knowledges.  The  as 
tronomer  hath  his  predictions,  as  of  conjunctions, 
aspects,  eclipses,  and  the  like.  The  physician 
hath  his  predictions  of  death,  of  recovery,  of  the 
accidents  and  issues  of  diseases.  The  politician 
hath  his  predictions;  "  O  urbem  venalem,  et  cito 
perituram,  si  emptorem  invenerit !"  which  stayed 
not  long  to  be  performed,  in  Sylla  first,  and  after 
in  Caesar.  So  as  these  predictions  are  now  im 
pertinent,  and  to  be  referred  over.  But  the  divi 
nation  which  springeth  from  the  internal  nature 
of  the  soul,  is  that  which  we  now  speak  of; 
which  hath  been  made  to  be  of  two  sorts,  primi 
tive  and  by  influxion.  Primitive  is  grounded 
upon  the  supposition,  that  the  mind,  when  it  is 
withdrawn  and  collected  into  itself,  and  not  dif 
fused  into  the  organs  of  the  body,  hath  some 
extent  and  latitude  of  prenotion;  which  therefoie 
appeareth  most  in  sleep,  in  ecstasies,  and  near 
death,  and  more  rarely  in  waking  apprehensions ; 
and  is  induced  and  furthered  by  those  abstinences 
and  observances  which  make  the  mind  most  to 
consist  in  itself:  by  influxion,  is  grounded  upon 
the  conceit  that  the  mind,  as  a  mirror  or  glass, 
should  take  illumination,  from  the  foreknowledge 
of  God  and  spirits ;  unto  which  the  same  regimen 
doth  likewise  conduce.  For  the  retiring  of  the 
mind  within  itself,  is  the  state  which  is  most 
susceptible  of  divine  influxions ;  save  that  it  is 
accompanied  in  this  case  with  a  fervency  and 
elevation,  which  the  ancients  noted  by  fury,  and 
not  with  a  repose  and  quiet,  as  it  is  in  the  other. 

Fascination  is  the  power  and  act  of  imagina 
tion,  intensive  upon  other  bodies  than  the  body 
of  the  imaginant :  for  of  that  we  spake  in  the 
proper  place :  wherein  the  school  of  Paracelsus, 
and  the  disciples  of  pretended  natural  magic  have 
been  so  intemperate,  as  they  have  exalted  the 
power  of  the  imagination  to  be  much  one  with 
the  power  of  miracle-working  faith ;  others,  that 
draw  nearer  to  probability,  calling  to  their  view 


the  secret  passages  of  things,  and  specially  of 
the  contagion  that  passeth  from  body  to  body,  do 
conceive  it  should  likewise  be  agreeable  to  na 
ture,  that  there  should  be  some  transmissions  and 
operations  from  spirit  to  spirit  without  the  media 
tion  of  the  senses;  whence  the  conceits  have 
grown,  now  almost  made  civil,  of  the  mastering 
spirit,  and  the  force  of  confidence,  and  the  like. 
Incident  unto  this  is  the  inquiry  how  to  raise  and 
fortify  the  imagination :  for  if  the  imagination 
fortified  have  power,  then  it  is  material  to  know 
how  to  fortify  and  exalt  it.  And  herein  comes  in 
crookedly  and  dangerously  a  palliation  of  a  great 
part  of  ceremonial  magic.  For  it  may  be  pre 
tended  that  ceremonies,  characters,  and  charms, 
do  work,  not  by  any  tacit  or  sacramental  contract 
with  evil  spirits,  but  serve  only  to  strengthen  the 
imagination  of  him  that  useth  it ;  as  images  are 
said  by  the  Roman  church  to  fix  the  cogitations, 
and  raise  the  devotions  of  them  that  pray  before 
them.  But  for  mine  own  judgment,  if  it  be  ad 
mitted  that  imagination  hath  power,  and  that 
ceremonies  fortify  imagination,  and  that  they  be 
used  sincerely  and  intentionally  for  that  purpose  ; 
yet  I  should  hold  them  unlawful,  as  opposing  to 
that  first  edict  which  God  gave  unto  man,  "  In 
sud ore  vultus  comedes  panem  tuum."  For  they 
propound  those  noble  effects,  which  God  hath  set 
forth  unto  man  to  be  bought  at  the  price  of  labour, 
to  be  attained  by  a  few  easy  and  slothful  obser 
vances.  Deficiencies  in  these  knowledges  I  will 
report  none,  other  than  the  general  deficience, 
that  it  is  not  known  how  much  of  them  is  verity, 
and  how  much  vanity. 

The  knowledge  which  respecteth  the  faculties 
of  the  mind  of  man  is  of  two  kinds :  the  one  re 
specting  his  understanding  and  reason,  and  the 
other  his  will,  appetite,  and  affection  ;  whereof 
the  former  produccth  direction  or  decree,  the  latter 
action  or  execution.  It  is  true  that  the  imagina 
tion  is  an  agent  or  "  nuncius,"  in  both  provinces, 
both  the  judicial  and  ministerial.  For  sense 
sendeth  over  to  the  imagination  before  reason 
have  judged  ;  and  reason  sendeth  over  to  imagi 
nation  before  the  decree  can  be  acted  ;  for  imagi 
nation  ever  precedeth  voluntary  motion.  Saving 
that  this  Janus  of  imagination  hath  differing  faces ; 
for  the  face  towards  reason  hath  the  print  of  truth 
but  the  face  towards  action  hath  the  print  of  good  • 
which  nevertheless  are  faces, 

"  Quales  decet  esse  sororum." 

Neither  is  the  imagination  simply  and  only  a 
messenger  ;  but  is  invested  with,  or  at  least 
usurpeth  no  small  authority  in  itself,  besides  the 
duty  of  the  message.  For  it  was  well  said  by 
Aristotle,  "  That  the  mind  hath  over  the  body 
that  commandment,  which  the  lord  hath  over  a 
bondman ;  but  that  reason  hath  over  the  imagina 
tion  that  commandment  which  a  magistrate  hath 
over  a  free  citizen;"  who  may  come  also  to  rule 
in  his  turn.  For  we  see  that,  in  matters  of  faith 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


207 


and  religion,  we  raise  our  imagination  above  our 
reason ;  which  is  the  cause  why  religion  sought 
ever  access  to  the  mind  by  similitudes,  types, 
parables,  visions,  dreams.  Arid  again,  in  all 
persuasions  that  are  wrought  by  eloquence,  and 
other  impressions  of  like  nature,  which  do  paint 
and  disguise  the  true  appearance  of  things,  the 
chief  recommendation  unto  reason  is  from  the  im 
agination.  Nevertheless,  because  I  find  not  any 
science  that  doth  properly  or  fitly  pertain  to  the 
imagination,  I  see  no  cause  to  alter  the  former  di 
vision.  For  as  for  poesy,  it  is  rather  a  pleasure 
or  play  of  the  imagination,  than  a  work  or  duty 
thereof.  And  if  it  be  a  work,  we  speak  not  now 
of  such  parts  of  learning  as  the  imagination  pro- 
duceth,  but  of  such  sciences  as  handle  and  con 
sider  of  the  imagination  ;  no  more  than  we  shall 
speak  now  of  such  knowledges  as  reason  pro- 
duceth,  for  that  extendeth  to  all  philosophy,  but 
of  such  knowledges  as  do  handle  and  inquire  of 
the  faculty  of  reason  :  so  as  poesy  had  its  true 
place.  As  for  the  power  of  the  imagination  in 
nature,  and  the  manner  of  fortifying  the  same,  we 
have  mentioned  it  in  the  doctrine  "  De  anima," 
whereunto  it  most  fitly  belongeth.  And  lastly, 
for  imaginative  or  insinuative  reason,  which  is  the 
subject  of  rhetoric,  we  think  it  best  to  refer  it  to 
the  arts  of  reason.  So  therefore  we  content  our 
selves  with  the  former  division,  that  Human  Phi 
losophy,  which  respecteth  the  faculties  of  the 
mind  of  man,  hath  two  parts,  Rational  and  Moral. 

The  part  of  Human  Philosophy  which  is  ra 
tional  is  of  all  knowledges,  to  the  most  wits,  the 
least  delightful,  and  seemeth  but  a  net  of  subtilty 
and  spinosity.  For  as  it  was  truly  said,  that 
knowledge  is  "  pabulum  animi ;"  so  in  the  nature 
of  men's  appetite  to  this  food,  most  men  are  of 
the  taste  and  stomach  of  the  Israelites  in  the  desert, 
that  would  fain  have  returned  "  ad  ollas  carnium," 
and  were  weary  of  manna  ;  which,  though  it  were 
celestial  seemed  less  nutritive  and  comfortable. 
So  generally  men  taste  well  knowledges  that  are 
drenched  in  flesh  and  blood,  civil  history,  morality, 
policy,  about  the  which  men's  affections,  praises, 
fortunes,  do  turn  and  are  conversant :  but  this 
same  "  lumen  siccum"  doth  parch  and  offend  most 
men's  watery  and  soft  natures.  But,  to  speak 
truly  of  things  as  they  are  in  worth,  rational 
knowledges  are  the  keys  of  all  other  arts  ;  for  as 
Aristotle  saith  aptly  and  elegantly,  "That  the 
hand  is  the  instrument  of  instruments,  and  the 
mind  is  the  form  of  forms  :"  so  these  be  truly 
said  to  be  the  art  of  arts  :  neither  do  they  only 
direct,  but  likewise  confirm  and  strengthen;  even 
as  the  habit  of  shooting  doth  not  only  enable  to 
shoot  a  nearer  shoot,  but  also  to  draw  a  stronger 
bow. 

The  arts  intellectual  are  four  in  number;  divid- 
\<\  according  to  the  ends  whereunto  they  are  re 
ferred  :  for  man's  labour  is  to  invent  that  which  is 
sought  or  propounded  ;  or  to  judge  that  which  is 


invented;  or  to  retain  that  which  is  judged;  or 
to  deliver  over  that  which  is  retained.  So  as  the 
arts  must  be  four  ;  art  of  inquiry  or  in"  ?ntion  ;  art 
of  examination  or  judgment;  art,  of  custody  or 
memory  ;  and  art  of  elocution  or  tradition. 

Invention  is  of  two  kind  a,  )auuh  differing  ;  the 
one,  of  arts  and  sciences ;  and  the  other,  of  speech 
and  arguments.  The  former  of  these  I  do  report 
deficient ;  which  seemeth  to  me  to  be  such  a  de 
ficience  as  if,  in  the  making  of  an  inventory  touch 
ing  the  estate  of  a  defunct,  it  should  be  set  down, 
that  there  is  no  ready  money.  For  as  money  will 
fetch  all  other  commodities,  so  this  knowledge  is 
that  which  should  purchase  all  the  rest.  And 
like  as  the  West  Indies  had  never  been  discover 
ed,  if  the  use  of  the  mariner's  needle  had  not  been 
first  discovered,  though  the  one  be  vast  regions, 
arid  the  other  a  small  motion  ;  so  it  cannot  be 
found  strange  if  sciences  be  no  farther  discovered, 
if  the  art  itself  of  invention  and  discovery  hath 
been  passed  over. 

That  this  part  of  knowledge  is  wanting,  to  my 
judgment  standeth  plainly  confessed;  for  first, 
logic  doth  not  pretend  to  invent  sciences,  or  the 
axioms  of  sciences,  but  passeth  it  over  with  a 
"cuique  in  sua  arte  credendum."  And  Celsus 
acknowledged  it  gravely,  speaking  of  the  em 
pirical  and  dogmatical  sects  of  physicians,  "  That 
medicines  and  cures  were  first  found  out,  and 
then  after  the  reasons  and  causes  were  discoursed  ; 
and  not  the  causes  first  found  out,  and  by  light 
from  them  the  medicines  and  cures  discovered." 
And  Plato,  in  his  Theaetetus,  noteth  well,  "That 
particulars  are  infinite,  and  the  higher  generalities 
give  no  sufficient  direction ;  and  that  the  pith  of 
all  sciences,  which  maketh  the  artsman  differ 
from  the  inexpert,  is  in  the  middle  propositions, 
which  in  every  particular  knowledge  are  taken 
from  tradition  and  experience."  And  therefore 
we  see,  that  they  which  discourse  of  the  inven 
tions  and  originals  of  things,  refer  them  rather  to 
chance  than  to  art,  and  rather  to  beasts,  birds, 
fishes,  serpents,  than  to  men. 

"  Dictammim  genetrix  Cret;ea  carpit  ab  Ida, 
Puberibus  caulein  foliis,  et  flore  comantem 
Purpureo  :  non  ilia  feris  incognita  capris 
Gramina,  cum  tergo  volucres  haesere  sagittE." 

So  that  it  was  no  marvel,  the  manner  of  antiquity 
being  to  consecrate  inventors,  that  the  ^Egyptians 
had  so  few  human  idols  in  their  temples,  but  al 
most  all  brute. 

"  Omnigenumque  Deum  monstra,  et  latrator  Anubis, 
Contra  Neptunum,  et  Venerem,  contraque  Minervam,"  &c- 

And  if  you  like  better  the  tradition  of  the  Grecians, 

and  ascribe  the  first  inventions  to  men ;  yet  you 

will  rather  believe  that  Prometheus  first  struck 

I  the  flints,  and  marvelled  at  the  spark,  than  that 

I  when  he  first  struck  the  flints  he  expected  the 

I  spark :   and   therefore   we   see  the  West  Indian 

Prometheus  had  no  intelligence  with  the  European, 

because  of  the  rareness  with  them  of  flint,  thai 


208 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


gave  the  first  occasion.  So  as  it  should  seem, 
that  hitherto  men  are  rather  beholden  to  a  wild 
goat  for  surgery,  or  to  a  nightingale  for  music,  or 
to  the  ibis  for  some  part  of  physic,  or  to  the  pot 
lid  that  flew  open  for  artillery,  or  generally  to 
chance,  or  any  thing  else,  than  to  logic,  for  the 
invention  of  arts  and  sciences.  Neither  is  the 
form  of  invention  which  Virgil  describeth  much 
other : 

"  Ut  varias  usus  meditando  extunderet  artes 
Paulatim." 

For  if  you  observe  the  words  well,  it  is  no  other 
method  than  that  which  brute  beasts  are  capable 
of,  and  do  put  in  use ;  which  is  a  perpetual  in 
tending  or  practising  some  one  thing,  urged  and 
imposed  by  an  absolute  necessity  of  conservation 
of  being:  for  so  Cicero  saith  very  truly,  "Usus 
uni  rei  deditus,  et  naturam  et  artem  saepe  vincit." 
And  therefore  if  it  be  said  of  men, 

"  Labor  omnia  vincit 
Improbus,  et  duris  urgens  in  rebus  egestas  ;" 

it  is  likewise  said  of  beasts,  "  Quis  psittaco  do- 
cuit  suum  xalpsV  Who  taught  the  raven  in  a 
drought  to  throw  pebbles  into  a  hollow  tree,  where 
she  espied  water,  that  the  water  might  rise  so  as 
she  might  come  to  it  1  Who  taught  the  bee  to 
sail  through  such  a  vast  sea  of  air,  and  to  find  the 
•<vay  from  a  field  in  flower,  a  great  way  off,  to  her 
hive?  Who  taught  the  ant  to  bite  every  grain 
of  corn  that  she  burieth  in  her  hill,  lest  it  should 
take  root  and  grow  ]  Add  then  the  word  "  extun- 
dere,"  which  importeth  the  extreme  difficulty, 
and  the  word  "  paulatim,"  which  importeth  the 
extreme  slowness,  and  we  are  where  we  were, 
even  amongst  the  ^Egyptians'  gods  ;  there  being 
little  left  to  the  faculty  of  reason,  and  nothing  to 
the  duty  of  art,  for  matter  of  invention. 

Secondly,  the  induction  which  the  logicians 
speak  of,  and  which  seemeth  familiar  with  Plato, 
(whereby  the  principles  of  sciences  may  be  pre 
tended  to  be  invented,  and  so  the  middle  propo 
sitions  by  derivation  from  the  principles ;)  their 
form  of  induction,  I  say,  is  utterly  vicious  and  in 
competent  :  wherein  their  error  is  the  fouler, 
because  it  is  the  duty  of  art  to  perfect  and  exal 
nature;  but  they  contrariwise  have  wronged 
abused,  and  traduced  nature.  For  he  that  shal 
attentively  observe  how  the  mind  doth  gather  this 
excellent  dew  of  knowledge,  like  unto  that  which 
the  poet  speaketh  of,  "Aerei  mellis  coelestia 
dona,"  distilling  and  contriving  it  out  of  particu 
lars  natural  and  artificial,  as  the  flowers  of  thj 
field  and  garden,  shall  find  that  the  mind  of  her 
self  by  nature  doth  manage  and  act  an  inductior 
much  better  than  they  describe  it.  For  to  con 
elude  upon  an  enumeration  of  particulars,  withou 
instance  contradictory,  is  no  conclusion,  but  z 
conjecture;  for  who  can  assure,  in  many  subject 
upon  those  particulars  which  appear  of  a  side 
that  there  are  not  other  on  the  contrary  side  whicl 
appear  not?  As  if  Samuel  should  have  reste 


pon  those  sons  of  Jesse  which  were  brought 
efore  him,  and  failed  of  David,  which  was  in 
le  field.  And  this  form,  to  say  truth,  is  so 
ross,  as  it  had  not  been  possible  for  wits  so 
ubtile  as  have  managed  these  things  to  have 
ffered  it  to  the  world,  but  that  they  hasted  to 
heir  theories  and  dogmaticals,  and  were  imperi- 
us  and  scornful  toward  particulars;  which  their 
aanner  was  to  use  but  as  "  lictores  and  viatores," 
or  sergeants  and  whifflers,  "  ad  summovendam 
urbam,"  to  make  way  and  make  room  for  their 
pinions,  rather  than  in  their  true  use  and  service. 
Certainly  it  is  a  thing  may  touch  a  man  with  a 
eligious  wonder,  to  see  how  the  footsteps  of  se- 
iucement  are  the  very  same  in  divine  and  human 
ruth:  for  as  in  divine  truth  man  cannot  endure 
o  become  as  a  child  ;  so  in  human,  they  reputed 
he  attending  the  inductions  whereof  we  speak, 
as  if  it  were  a  second  infancy  or  childhood. 

Thirdly,  allow  some  principles  or  axioms  were 
ightly  induced,  yet  nevertheless  certain  it  is  that 
niddle  propositions  cannot  be  deduced  from  them 
n  subject  of  nature  by  syllogism,  that  is,  by  touch 
and  reduction  of  them  to  principles  in  a  middle 
erm.  It  is  true  that  in  sciences  popular,  as  mo 
ralities,  laws,  and  the  like,  yea  and  divinity,  (be 
cause  it  pleaseth  God  to  apply  himself  to  the 
capacity  of  the  simplest,)  that  form  may  have 
use ;  and  in  natural  philosophy  likewise,  by  way 
f  argument  or  satisfactory  reason,  ';  Quse  assen- 
sum  parit,  operis  effoeta  est:"  but  the  subtilty  of 
mature  and  operations  will  not  be  enchained  in 
;hose  bonds :  for  arguments  consist  of  proposi 
tions,  and  propositions  of  words ;  and  words  are 
3Ut  the  current  tokens  or  marks  of  popular  notions 
of  things :  which  notions,  if  they  be  grossly  and 
variably  collected  out  of  particulars,  it  is  not  the 
aborious  examination  either  of  consequences  of 
arguments,  or  of  the  truth  of  propositions,  that  can 
ever  correct  that  error,  being,  as  the  physicians 
speak,  in  the  first  digestion :  and  therefore  it  was 
not  without  cause,  that  so  many  excellent  philo 
sophers  became  sceptics  and  academics,  and  de 
nied  any  certainty  of  knowledge  or  comprehen 
sion;  and  held  opinion,  that  the  knowledge  of 
man  extendeth  only  to  appearances  and  probabili 
ties.  It  is  true  that  in  Socrates  it  was  supposed 
to  be  but  a  form  of  irony,  "  Scientiam  dissimu- 
lando  simulavit:"  for  he  used  to  disable  his 
knowledge,  to  the  end  to  enhance  his  knowledge; 
like  the  humour  of  Tiberius  in  his  beginnings, 
that  would  reign,  but  would  not  acknowledge  so 
much :  and  in  the  later  Academy,  which  Cicero  em 
braced,  this  opinion  also  of  "  acatalepsia,"  I  doubt, 
was  not  held  sincerely :  for  that  all  those  which 
excelled  in  "copia"  of  speech  seem  to  have 
chosen  that  sect,  as  that  which  was  fittest  to  give 
glory  to  their  eloquence  and  variable  discourses; 
being  rather  like  progresses  of  pleasure,  than 
journeys  to  an  end.  But  assuredly  many  scat 
tered  in  both  Academies  did  hold  it  in  subtilty 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


209 


and  integrity :  but  here  was  their  chief  error ; 
they  charged  the  deceit  upon  the  senses ;  which 
in  my  judgment,  notwithstanding  all  their  cavilla- 
tions,  are  very  sufficient  to  certify  and  report 
truth,  though  not  always  immediately,  yet  by 
comparison,  by  help  of  instrument,  and  by  pro 
ducing  and  urging  such  things  as  are  too  subtile 
for  the  sense  to  some  effect  comprehensible  by 
the  sense,  and  other  like  assistance.  But  they 
ought  to  have  charged  the  deceit  upon  the  weak 
ness  of  the  intellectual  powers,  and  upon  the  man 
ner  of  collecting  and  concluding  upon  the  reports 
of  the  senses.  This  I  speak,  not  to  disable  the 
mind  of  man,  but  to  stir  it  up  to  seek  help  :  for  no 
man,  be  he  never  so  cunning  or  practised,  can 
make  a  straight  line  or  perfect  circle  by  steadi 
ness  of  hand,  which  may  be  easily  done  by  help 
of  a  ruler  or  compass. 

This  part  of  the  invention,  concerning  the  in 
vention  of  sciences,  I  purpose,  if  God  give  me 
leave,  hereafter  to  propound,  having  digested  it 
into  two  parts ;  whereof  the  one  I  term  "  Expe- 
rientia  Literate,"  and  the  other  "  Interpretatio 
Naturae  :"  the  former  being  but  a  degree  and  rudi 
ment  of  the  latter.  But  I  will  not  dwell  too 
long,  nor  speak  too  great  upon  a  promise. 

The  invention  of  speech  or  argument  is  not 
pioperly  an  invention :  for  to  invent  is  to  discover 
that  we  know  not,  and  not  to  recover  or  resiiiiimon 
that  which  we  already  know :  and  the  use  of  this 
invention  is  no  other  but,  out  of  the  knowledge 
whereof  our  mind  is  already  possessed,  to  draw 
forth  or  call  before  us  that  which  may  be  perti 
nent  to  the  purpose  which  we  take  into  our  con 
sideration.  So  as,  to  speak  truly,  it  is  no  inven 
tion,  but  a  remembrance  or  suggestion,  with  an 
application ;  which  is  the  cause  why  the  schools 
do  place  it  after  judgment,  as  subsequent  and  not 
precedent.  Nevertheless,  because  we  do  account 
it  a  chase,  as  well  of  deer  in  an  enclosed  park  as 
in  a  forest  at  large,  and  that  it  hath  already  ob 
tained  the  name,  let  it  be  called  invention  :  so  as 
it  be  perceived  and  discerned,  that  the  scope  and 
end  of  this  invention  is  readiness  and  present  use 
of  our  knowledge,  and  not  addition  or  amplifica 
tion  thereof. 

To  procure  this  ready  use  of  knowledge  there 
are  two  courses,  Preparation  and  Suggestion. 
The  former  of  these  seemeth  scarcely  a  part  of 
knowledge,  consisting  rather  of  diligence  than 
of  any  artificial  erudition.  And  herein  Aristotle 
wittily,  but  hurtfully,  doth  deride  the  sophists 
near  his  time,  saying,  "  they  did  as  if  one  that 
professed  the  art  of  shoemaking  should  not 
teach  how  to  make  a  shoe,  but  only  exhibit,  in  a 
readiness  a  number  of  shoes  of  all  fashions  and 
sizes."  But  yet  a  man  might  reply,  that  if  a 
shoemaker  should  have  no  shoes  in  his  shop,  but 
only  work  as  he  is  bespoken,  he  should  be  weakly 
customed.  But  our  Saviour,  speaking  of  divine 
knowledge,  saith,  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is 
VOL.  I.— 27 


like  a  good  householder,  that  bringeth  forth  both 
new  and  old  store;  and  we  see  the  ancient 
writers  of  rhetoric  do  give  it  in  precept,  that 
pleaders  should  have  the  places,  whereof  they 
have  most  continual  use,  ready  handled  in  all  the 
variety  that  may  be;  as  that,  to  speak  for  the 
literal  interpretation  of  the  law  against  equity, 
and  contrary ;  and  to  speak  for  presumptions  and 
inferences  against  testimony,  and  contrary.  And 
Cicero  himself,  being  broken  unto  it  by  great 
experience,  delivereth  it  plainly,  that  whatsoever 
a  man  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  of,  if  he  will 
take  the  pains,  he  may  have  it  in  effect  premedi 
tate  and  handled  "  in  thesi ;"  so  that  when  he 
corneth  to  a  particular,  he  shall  have  nothing  to  do, 
but  to  add  names,  and  times,  and  places,  and  such 
other  circumstances  of  individuals.  We  see  like 
wise  the  exact  diligence  of  Demosthenes ;  who, 
in  regard  of  the  great  force  that  the  entrance  and 
access  into  causes  hath  to  make  a  good  impres 
sion,  had  ready  framed  a  number  of  prefaces  for 
orations  and  speeches.  All  which  authorities  and 
precedents  may  overweigh  Aristotle's  opinion, 
that  would  have  us  change  a  rich  wardrobe  for  a 
pair  of  shears. 

But  the  nature  of  the  collection  of  this  provi 
sion  or  preparatory  store,  though  it  be  common 
both  to  logic  and  rhetoric,  yet  having  made  an 
entry  of  it  here,  where  it  came  first  to  be  spoken 
of,  I  think  fit  to  refer  over  the  farther  handling  of 
it  to  rhetoric. 

The  other  part  of  invention,  which  I  term  sug 
gestion,  doth  assign  and  direct  us  to  certain 
marks  or  places,  which  may  excite  our  mind  to 
return  and  produce  such  knowledge  as  it  hath 
formerly  collected,  to  the  end  we  may  make  use 
thereof.  Neither  is  this  use,  truly  taken,  only  to 
furnish  argument  to  dispute  probably  with  others, 
but  likewise  to  minister  unto  our  judgment  to 
conclude  aright  within  ourselves.  Neither  may 
these  places  serve  only  to  prompt  our  invention, 
but  also  to  direct  our  inquiry.  For  a  faculty  of 
wise  interrogating  is  half  a  knowledge.  For  as 
Plato  saith,  "Whosoever  seeketh,  knoweth  that 
which  he  seeketh  for  in  a  general  notion ;  else 
how  shall  he  know  it  when  he  hath  found  it?" 
And  therefore  the  larger  your  anticipation  is,  the 
more  direct  and  compendious  is  your  search.  But 
the  same  places  which  will  help  us  what  to  pro 
duce  of  that  which  we  know  already,  will  also 
help  us,  if  a  man  of  experience  were  before  us, 
what  questions  to  ask ;  or,  if  we  have  books  and 
authors  to  instruct  us,  what  points  to  search  and 
revolve :  so  as  I  cannot  report  that  this  part  of  in 
vention,  which  is  that  which  the  schools  call  to 
pics,  is  deficient. 

Nevertheless  topics  are  of  two  sorts,  general  and 
special.  The  general  we  have  spoken  to;  but 
the  particular  hath  been  touched  by  some,  but  re 
jected  generally  as  inartificial  and  variable.  But 
leavin  the  humour  which  hath  reigned  too  much 


210 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


in  the  schools,  which  is,  to  be  vainly  subtle  in  a 
few  things  which  are  within  their  command,  and 
to  reject  the  rest;  I  do  receive  particular  topics, 
(that  is,  places  or  directions  of  invention  and  in 
quiry  in  every  particular  knowledge,)  as  things 
of  great  use,  being  mixtures  of  logic  with  the 
matter  of  sciences ;  for  in  these  it  holdeth,  "  Ars 
inveniendi  adolescit  cum  inventis;"  for  as  in 
going  of  a  way,  we  do  not  only  gain  that  part  of 
the  way  which  is  passed ;  but  we  gain  the  better 
sight  of  that  part  of  the  way  which  remaineth  : 
so  every  degree  of  proceeding  in  a  science  giveth 
a  light  to  that  which  followeth ;  which  light  if  we 
strengthen,  by  drawing  it  forth  into  questions  or 
places  of  inquiry  ,we  do  greatly  advance  our  pursuit. 

Now  we  pass  unto  the  arts  of  Judgment,  which 
handle  the  natures  of  proofs  and  demonstrations  ; 
which  as  to  induction  hath  a  coincidence  with  in 
vention  ;  for  in  all  inductions,  whether  in  good  or 
vicious  form,  the  same  action  of  the  mind  which 
inventeth,  judgeth ;  all  one  as  in  the  sense ;  but 
otherwise  it  is  in  proof  by  syllogism  ;  for  the  proof 
being  not  immediate,  but  by  mean,  the  invention 
of  the  mean  is  one  thing,  and  the  judgment  of  the 
consequence  is  another;  the  one  exciting  only, 
the  other  examining.  Therefore,  for  the  real  and 
exact  form  of  judgment,  we  refer  ourselves  to 
that  which  we  have  spoken  of  "  Interpretation  of 
nature." 

For  the  other  judgment  by  syllogism,  as  it  is 
a  thing  most  agreeable  to  the  mind  of  man,  so  it 
hath  been  vehemently  and  excellently  laboured ; 
for  the  nature  of  man  doth  extremely  covet  to  have 
somewhat  in  his  understanding  fixed  and  immo 
vable,  and  as  a  rest  and  support  of  the  mind.  And 
therefore  as  Aristotle  endeavoureth  to  prove,  that 
in  all  motion  there  is  some  point  quiescent;  and 
as  he  elegantly  expoundeth  the  ancient  fable  of 
Atlas,  that  stood  fixed,  and  bare  up  the  heaven 
from  falling,  to  be  meant  of  the  poles  or  axle-tree 
of  heaven,  whereupon  the  conversion  is  accom 
plished  :  so  assuredly  men  have  a  desire  to  have 
an  Atlas  or  axle-tree  within,  to  keep  them  from 
fluctuation,  which  is  like  to  a  perpetual  peril  of 
falling;  therefore  men  did  hasten  to  set  down 
some  principles  about  which  the  variety  of  their 
disputations  might  turn. 

So  then  this  art  of  judgment  is  but  the  reduction 
of  propositions  to  principles  in  a  middle  term :  the 
principles  to  be  agreed  by  all  and  exempted  from 
argument;  the  middle  term  to  be  elected  at  the 
liberty  of  every  man's  invention;  the  reduction  to 
he  of  two  kinds,  direct  and  inverted  ;  the  one 
when  the  proposition  is  reduced  to  the  principle, 
which  they  term  a  probation  ostensive ;  the  other, 
when  the  contradictory  of  the  proposition  is  re 
duced  to  the  contradictory  of  the  principle,  which 
is  that  which  they  call  "per  incommodum,"  or 
pressing  an  absurdity;  the  number  of  middle 
terms  to  be  as  the  proposition  stand eth  degrees 
more  or  less  removed  from  the  principle. 


I  But  this  art  hath  two  several  methods  of  doc- 
!  trine,  the  one  by  way  of  direction,  the  other  by 
J  way  of  caution ;  the  former  frameth  and  setteth 
down  a  true  form  of  consequence,  by  the  variations 
and  deflections  from  which  errors  and  inconse 
quences  may  be  exactly  judged  ;  toward  the  com 
position  and  structure  of  which  form,  it  is  incident 
to  handle  the  parts  thereof,  which  are  propositions, 
and  the  parts  of  propositions,  which  are  simple 
words :  and  this  is  that  part  of  logic  which  is 
comprehended  in  the  analytics. 

The  second  method  of  doctrine  was  introduced 
for  expedite  use  and  assurance  sake ;  discovering 
the  more  subtile  forms  of  sophisms  and  illaquea- 
tions  with  their  redargutions,  which  is  that  which 
is  termed  Blenches.  For  although  in  the  more 
gross  sorts  of  fallacies  it  happeneth,  as  Seneca 
maketh  the  comparison  well,  as  in  juggling  feats, 
which  though  we  know  not  how  they  are  done, 
yet  we  know  well  it  is  not  as  it  seemeth  to  be  ; 
yet  the  more  subtle  sort  of  them  doth  not  only  put 
a  man  beside  his  answer,  but  doth  many  times 
abuse  his  judgment. 

This  part  concerning  Blenches  is  excellently 
handled  by  Aristotle  in  precept,  but  more  excel 
lently  by  Plato  in  example,  not  only  in  the  per 
sons  of  the  sophists,  but  even  in  Socrates  himself; 
who  professing  to  affirm  nothing,  but  to  infirm 
that  which  was  affirmed  by  another,  hath  exactly 
expressed  all  the  forms  of  objection,  fallacy,  and 
redargution.  And  although  we  have  said  that 
the  use  of  this  doctrine  is  for  redargution,  yet  it 
is  manifest  the  degenerate  and  corrupt  use  is  for 
caption  and  contradiction,  which  passeth  for  a  great 
faculty,  and  no  doubt  is  of  very  great  advantage: 
though  the  difference  be  good  which  was  made 
between  orators  and  sophisters,  that  the  one  is  as 
the  greyhound,  which  hath  his  advantage  in  the 
race,  and  the  other  as  the  hare,  which  hath  her 
advantage  in  the  turn,  so  as  it  is  the  advantage 
of  the  weaker  creature. 

But  yet  further,  this  doctrine  of  elenches  hath 
a  more  ample  latitude  and  extent  than  is  per 
ceived;  namely,  unto  divers  parts  of  knowledge; 
whereof  some  are  laboured  and  others  omitted. 
For  first,  I  conceive,  though  it  may  seem  at  first 
somewhat  strange,  that  that  part  which  is  variably 
referred  sometimes  to  logic,  sometimes  to  meta 
physics,  touching  the   common  adjuncts  of  es 
sences,  is  but  an  elench ;  for  the  great  sophism 
|  of  all  sophisms  being  equivocation  or  ambiguity 
j  of  words  and  phrase,  (especially  of  such  words 
as  are  most  general,  and  intervene,  in  every  inqui 
ry,)  it  seemeth  to  me  that  the  true  and  fruitful 
use,  leaving  vain  subtilties  and  speculations,  of 
the  inquiry  of  majority,  minority,  priority,  poste 
riority,  identity,  diversity,  possibility,  act,  totality, 
:  parts,  existence,  privation,  and  the  like,  are  but 
j  wise    cautions    against  ambiguities   of  speech. 
So  again  the  distribution  of  thingj  into  certain 
I  tribes,  which  we  call  categories  or  predicaments 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


2i 


are  but  cautions  against  the  confusion  of  defini 
tions  and  divisions. 

Secondly,  there  is  a  seducement  that  worketh 
by  the  strength  of  the  impression,  and  not  by  the 
subtilty  of  the  illaqueation ;  not  so  much  per 
plexing  the  reason,  as  overruling  it  by  power  of 


But  this  part  I  think  more  pro- 


the  imagination. 

per  to  handle  when  I  shall  speak  of  rhetoric. 

But  lastly,  there  is  yet  a  much  more  important 
and  profound  kind  of  fallacies  in  the  mind  of  man, 
which  I  find  not  observed  or  inquired  at  all,  and 
think  good  to  place  here,  as  that  which  of  all  others 
appertaineth  most  to  rectify  judgment:  the  force 
whereof  is  such,  as  it  doth  not  dazzle  or  snare  the 
understanding  in  some  particulars,  but  doth  more 
generally  and  inwardly  infect  and  corrupt  the 
state  thereof.  For  the  mind  of  man  is  far  from  the 
nature  of  a  clear  and  equal  glass,  wherein  the 
beams  of  things  should  reflect  according  to  their 
true  incidence ;  nay,  it  is  rather  like  an  enchanted 
glass,  full  of  superstition  and  imposture,  if  it  be 
not  delivered  and  reduced.  For  this  purpose,  let 
us  consider  the  false  appearances  that  are  imposed 
upon  us  by  the  general  nature  of  the  mind,  be 
holding  them  in  an  example  or  two ;  as  first,  in 
that  instance  which  is  the  root  of  all  superstition, 
namely,  That  to  the  nature  of  the  mind  of  all  men 
it  is  consonant  for  the  affirmative  or  active  to  af 
fect  more  than  the  negative  or  privative :  so  that  a 
few  times  hitting  or  presence  countervails  oft- 
times  failing  or  absence;  as  was  well  answered 
by  Diagoras  to  him  that  showed  him  in  Nep 
tune's  temple  the  great  number  of  pictures  of  such 
as  had  escaped  shipwreck  and  had  paid  their 
vows  to  Neptune,  saying,  "  Advise  now,  you  that 
think  it  folly  to  invocate  Neptune  in  tempest:" 
"  Yea,  but,"  saith  Diagoras,  "  where  are  they 
painted  that  are  drowned]"  Let  us  behold  it  in 
another  instance,  namely,  That  the  spirit  of  man, 
being  of  an  equal  and  uniform  substance,  doth 
usually  suppose  and  feign  in  nature  a  greater 
equality  and  uniformity  than  is  in  truth.  Hence 
it  cometh,  that  the  mathematicians  cannot  satisfy 
themselves,  except  they  reduce  the  motions  of 
the  celestial  bodies  to  perfect  circles,  rejecting 
spiral  lines,  and  labouring  to  be  discharged  of 
eccentrics.  Hence  it  cometh,  that  whereas  there 
are  many  things  in  nature,  as  it  were  "monodica, 


to  be  of  human  shape.  And  therefore  Velleius 
the  Epicurean  needed  not  to  have  asked,  why 
God  should  have  adorned  the  heavens  with  stars 
as  if  he  had  been  an  jEdilis,  one  that  should  hav0 
set  forth  some  magnificent  shows  or  plays.  For 
if  that  great  Work-master  had  been  of  a  human 
disposition,  he  would  have  cast  the  stars  into 
some  pleasant  and  beautiful  works  and  orders, 
like  the  frets  in  the  roofs  of  houses ;  whereas  one 
can  scarce  find  a  posture  in  square,  or  triangle,  or 
straight  line,  amongst  such  an  infinite  number; 
so  differing  a  harmony  there  is  between  the 
spirit  of  man  and  the  spirit  of  nature. 

Let  us  consider,  again,  the  false  appearances 
imposed  upon  us  by  every  man's  '  \vn  individual 
nature  and  custom,  in  that  feigned  s  jpposition 
that  Plato  maketh  of  the  cave  :  for  certainly  if  a 
child  were  continued  in  a  grot  or  cave  under  the 
earth,  until  maturity  of  age,  and  came  suddenly 
abroad,  he  would  have  strange  and  absurd  imagi 
nations.  So  in  like  manner,  although  our  per 
sons  live  in  the  view  of  heaven,  yet  our  spirits 
are  included  in  the  caves  of  our  own  complexions 
and  customs,  which  minister  unto  us  infinite 
errors  and  vain  opinions,  if  they  be  not  recalled  to 
examination.  But  hereof  we  have  given  many 
examples  in  one  of  the  errors  or  peccant  humours, 
which  we  ran  briefly  over  in  our  first  book. 

And  lastly,  let  us  consider  the  false  appear 
ances  that  are  imposed  upon  us  by  words,  which 
are  framed  and  applied  according  to  the  conceit 
and  capacities  of  the  vulgar  sort;  and  although 
we  think  we  govern  our  words,  and  prescribe  it 
well,  "Loquendum  ut  vulgus,  sentiendum  ut 
sapientes;"  yet  certain  it  is  that  words,  as  a 
Tartar's  bow.  do  shoot  back  upon  the  understand 
ing  of  the  wisest,  and  mightily  entangle  and 
pervert  the  judgment;  so  as  it  is  almost  neces 
sary,  in  all  controversies  and  disputations,  to 
imitate  the  wisdom  of  the  mathematicians,  in 
setting  down  in  the  very  beginning  the  definitions 
of  our  words  and  terms,  that  others  may  know 
how  we  accept  and  understand  them,  and  whether 
they  concur  with  us  or  no.  For  it  cometh  to 
pass,  for  want  of  this,  that  we  are  sure  to  end 
there  where  we  ought  to  have  begun,  which  is, 
n  questions  and  differences  about  words.  To 
conclude,  therefore,  it  must  be  confessed  that  it  is 


sui  juris;"  yet  the  cogitations  of  man  do  feign  I  not  possible  to  divorce  ourselves  from  these  falla- 


unto  them  relatives,  parallels,  and  conjugates, 
whereas  no  such  thing  is ;  as  they  have  feigned 
an  element  of  fire,  to  keep  square  with  earth, 
water,  and  air,  and  the  like :  nay,  it  is  not  credi 
ble,  till  it  be  opened,  what  a  number  of  fictions 
and  fancies  the  similitude  of  human  actions  and 
arts,  together  with  the  making  of  man  "  communis 
mensura,"  have  brought  into  Natural  Philosophy; 
not  much  better  than  the  heresy  of  the  Anthropo- 
morphites,  bred  in  the  cells  of  gross  and  solitary 
monks,  and  the  opinion  of  Epicurus,  answerable 
to  the  same  in  heathenism,  who  supposed  the  gods 


cies  and  false  appearances,  because  they  are  in 
separable  from  our  nature  and  condition  of  life; 
so  yet  nevertheless  the  caution  of  them,  (for  all 
elenches,  as  was  said,  are  but  cautions,)  doth 
extremely  import  the  true  conduct  of  human 
judgment.  The  particular  elenches  or  cautions 
against  these  three  false  appearances,  I  find  alto 
gether  deficient. 

There  remaineth  one  part  of  judgment  of  great 
excellency,  which  to  mine  understanding  is  so 
slightly  touched,  as  I  may  report  that  also  defi 
cient;  which  !  s  the  application  of  the  differing 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


ts  to  the  differing1  kinds  of  subjects  ; 
ig  but  four  kinds  of  demonstrations, 
that  is,  by  the  immediate  consent  of  the  mind  or 
sense,  by  induction,  by  sophism,  and  by  congru- 
ity,  (which  is  that  which  Aristotle  calleth  de 
monstration  in  orb  or  circle,  and  not  "a  noti- 
oribus  ;")  every  of  these  hath  certain  subjects  in 
the  matter  of  sciences,  in  which  respectively 
they  have  chiefest  use ;  and  certain  others,  from 
which  respectively  they  ought  to  be  excluded  : 
and  the  rigour  and  curiosity  in  requiring  the  more 
severe  proofs  in  some  things,  and  chiefly  the  facil 
ity  in  contenting  ourselves  with  the  more  remiss 
proofs  in  others,  hath  been  amongst  the  greatest 
causes  of  detriment  and  hinderance  to  knowledge. 
The  distributions  and  assignations  of  demonstra 
tions,  according  to  the  analogy  of  sciences,  I  note 
as  deficient. 

The  custody  or  retaining  of  knowledge  is  either 
in  Writing  or  Memory  ;  whereof  writing  hath  two 
parts,  the  nature  of  the  character,  and  the  order  of 
the  entry ;  for  the  art  of  characters,  or  other  visible 
notes  of  words  or  things,  it  hath  nearest  conjuga 
tion  with  grammar;  and  therefore  I  refer  it  to 
the  due  place  :  for  the  disposition  and  collocation 
of  that  knowledge  which  we  preserve  in  writing, 
it  consisteth  in  a  good  digest  of  commonplaces ; 
wherein  I  am  not  ignorant  of  the  prejudice  imputed 
to  the  use  of  commonplace  books,  as  causing  a 
retardation  of  reading,  and  some  sloth  or  relaxation 
of  memory.  But  because  it  is  but  a  counterfeit 
thing  in  knowledges  to  be  forward  and  pregnant, 
except  a  man  be  deep  and  full,  I  hold  the  entry  of 
commonplaces,  to  be  a  matter  of  great  use  and  es 
sence  in  studying,  as  that  which  assureth  "  copia" 
of  invention,  and  contracteth  judgment  to  a 
strength.  But  this  is  true,  that  of  the  methods  of 
commonplaces  that  I  have  seen  there  is  none  of  any 
sufficient  worth  ;  all  of  them  carrying  merely  the 
face  of  a  school,  and  not  of  a  world  ;  and  refer 
ring  to  vulgar  matters  and  pedantical  divisions, 
without  all  life,  or  respect  to  action. 

For  the  other  principal  part  of  the  custody  of 
knowledge,  which  is  Memory,  I  find  that  faculty 
in  my  judgment  weakly  inquired  of.  An  art  there 
is  extant  of  it :  but  it  seemeth  to  me  that  there  are 
better  precepts  than  that  art,  and  better  practices  of 
that  art  than  those  received.  It  is  certain  the  art, 
as  it  is,  may  be  raised  to  points  of  ostentation  pro 
digious;  but  in  use,  as  it  is  now  managed,  it  is 
barren,  (not  burdensome,  nor  dangerous  to  natural 
memory,  as  is  imagined,  but  barren,)  that  is,  not 
dexterous  to  be  applied  to  the  serious  use  of  busi 
ness  and  occasions.  And  therefore  I  make  no  more 
estimation  of  repeating  a  great  number  of  names  or 
words  upon  once  hearing,  or  the  pouring  forth  of 
a  number  of  verses  or  rhymes  extempore,  or  the 
making  of  a  satirical  simile  of  every  thing,  or  the 
turning  of  every  thing  to  a  jest,  or  the  falsifying  or 
Contradicting  of  every  thing  by  cavil,  or  the  like, 
(whereof  in  the  faculties  of  the  mind  there  is  great 


"  copia,"  and  such  as  by  device  and  practice  may 
be  exalted  to  an  extreme  degree  of  wonder,)  than  I 
do  of  the  tricks  of  tumblers,  funambulos,  baladines ; 
the  one  being  the  same  in  the  mind  that  the  other 
is  in  the  body,  matters  of  strangeness  without 
worthiness. 

This  art  of  memory  is  but  built  upon  two  in 
tentions;  the  one  prenotion,  the  other  emblem. 
Prenotion  dischargeth  the  indefinite  seeking  of  that 
we  would  remember,  and  directeth  us  to  seek  in  a 
narrow  compass,  that  is,  somewhat  that  hath  con- 
gruity  with  our  place  of  memory.  Emblem  re- 
duceth  conceits  intellectual  to  images  sensible, 
which  strike  the  memory  more ;  out  of  which 
axioms,  may  be  drawn  much  better  practice  than 
that  in  use  ;  and  besides  which  axioms  there  are 
divers  more  touching  help  of  memory,  not  inferior 
to  them.  But  I  did  in  the  beginning  distinguish, 
not  to  report  those  things  deficient,  which  are  but 
only  ill  managed. 

There  remaineth  the  fourth  kind  of  rational 
knowledge,  which  is  transitive,  concerning  the 
expressing  or  transferring  our  knowledge  to 
others  ;  which  I  will  term  by  the  general  name 
of  tradition  or  delivery.  Tradition  hath  three 
parts  ;  the  first  concerning  the  organ  of  tradition  ; 
the  second  concerning  the  method  of  tradition ; 
and  the  third  concerning  the  illustration  of  tra 
dition. 

For  the  organ  of  tradition,  it  is  either  speech  or 
writing  :  for  Aristotle  saith  well,  "  Words  are  the 
images  of  cogitations,  and  letters  are  the  images 
of  words  ;"  but  yet  it  is  not  of  necessity  that  cogi 
tations  be  expressed  by  the  medium  of  words. 
For  whatsoever  is  capable  of  sufficient  differences, 
and  those  perceptible  by  the  sense,  is  in  nature 
competent  to  express  cogitations.  And  therefore 
we  see  in  the  commerce  of  barbarous  people,  that 
understand  not  one  another's  language,  and  in  the 
piactice  of  divers  that  are  dumb  and  deaf,  that 
men's  minds  are  expressed  in  gestures,  though 
not  exactly,  yet  to  serve  the  turn.  And  we  under 
stand  further,  that  it  is  the  use  of  China,  and  the 
kingdoms  of  the  high  Levant,  to  write  in  cha 
racters  real,  which  express  neither  letters  nor 
words  in  gross,  but  things  or  notions ;  insomuch 
as  countries  and  provinces,  which  understand 
not  one  another's  language,  can  nevertheless  read 
one  another's  writings,  because  the  characters 
are  accepted  more  generally  than  the  languages 
do  extend  ;  and  therefore  they  have  a  vast  multi 
tude  of  characters,  as  many,  I  suppose,  as  radical 
words. 

These  notes  of  cogitations  are  of  two  sorts ; 
the  one  when  the  note  hath  some  similitude  or 
congruity  with  the  notion;  the  other  "  ad  placi- 
tum,"  having  force  only  by  contract  or  accepta 
tion.  Of  the  former  sort  are  hieroglyphics  and 
gestures.  For  as  to  hieroglyphics,  things  of  an 
cient  use,  and  embraced  chiefly  by  the  J&gyL  dans, 
one  of  the  most  ancient  nations,  they  are  but  as 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


213 


continued  impresses  and  emblems.  And  as  for 
gestures,  they  are  as  transitory  hieroglyphics,  and 
are  to  hieroglyphics  as  words  spoken  are  to  words 
written,  in  that  they  abide  not;  but  they  have 
evermore,  as  well  as  the  other,  an  affinity  with 
the  things  signified :  as  Periander,  being  consulted 
with  how  to  preserve  a  tyranny  newly  usurped, 
bid  the  messenger  attend  and  report  what  he  saw 
him  do ;  and  went  into  his  garden  and  topped  all 
the  highest  flowers  :  signifying,  that  it  consisted 
in  the  cutting  off  and  keeping  low  of  the  nobility 
and  grandees.  "  Ad  placitum,"  are  the  charac 
ters  real  before  mentioned,  and  words  :  although 
some  have  been  willing  by  curious  inquiry,  or 
rather  by  apt  feigning,  to  have  derived  imposition 
of  names  from  reason  and  intendment ;  a  specula 
tion  elegant,  and,  by  reason  it  searcheth  into 
antiquity,  reverent;  but  sparingly  mixed  with 
truth,  and  of  small  fruit.  This  portion  of  know 
ledge,  touching  the  notes  of  things,  and  cogita 
tions  in  general,  I  find  not  inquired,  but  deficient. 
And  although  it  may  seem  of  no  great  use,  con 
sidering  that  words  and  writings  by  letters  do  far 
excel  all  the  other  ways ;  yet  because  this  part 
concerneth,  as  it  were,  the  mint  of  knowledge, 
(for  words  are  the  tokens  current  and  accepted 
for  conceits,  as  moneys  are  for  values,  and  that  it 
is  fit  men  be  not  ignorant  that  moneys  may  be  of 
another  kind  than  gold  and  silver,)  I  thought 
good  to  propound  it  to  better  inquiry. 

Concerning  speech  and  words,  the  considera 
tion  of  them  hath  produced  the  science  of  Gram 
mar  :  for  man  still  striveth  to  reintegrate  himself 
in  those  benedictions,  from  which  by  his  fault  he 
hath  been  deprived  ;  and  as  he  hath  striven  against 
the  first  general  curse  by  the  invention  of  all  other 
arts,  so  hath  he  sought  to  come  forth  of  the  second 
general  curse,  which  was  the  confusion  of  tongues, 
by  the  art  of  grammar:  whereof  the  use  in  a 
mother  tongue  is  small,  in  a  foreign  tongue  more  ; 
but  most  in  such  foreign  tongues  as  have  ceased 
to  be  vulgar  tongues,  and  are  turned  only  to 
learned  tongues.  The  duty  of  it  is  of  two  na 
tures  ;  the  one  popular,  which  is  for  the  speedy 
and  perfect  attaining  languages,  as  well  for  inter 
course  of  speech  as  for  understanding  of  authors  ; 
the  other  philosophical,  examining  the  power  and 
nature  of  words,  as  they  are  the  footsteps  and 
prints  of  reason :  which  kind  of  analogy  between 
words  and  reason  is  handled  "  sparsim,"  brokenly, 
though  not  entirely ;  and  therefore  I  cannot  report 
tt  deficient,  though  I  think  it  very  worthy  to  be 
reduced  into  a  science  by  itself. 

Unto  grammar  also  belongeth,  as  an  appendix, 
the  consideration  of  the  accidents  of  words ; 
which  are  measure,  sound,  and  elevation  or 
accent,  and  the  sweetness  and  harshness  of  them ; 
whence  hath  issued  some  curious  observations  in 
rhetoric,  but  chiefly  poesy,  as  we  consider  it,  in 
respect  of  the  verse,  and  not  of  the  argument : 
wherein  though  men  in  learned  tongues  do  tie 


themselves  to  the  ancient  measures,  yet  in  modern 
languages  it  seemeth  to  me  as  free  to  make  new 
measures  of  verses  as  of  dances ;  for  a  dance  is 
a  measured  pace,  as  a  verse  is  a  measured  speech. 
In  these  things  the  sense  is  better  judge  than  the 
art; 

"  CoenJE  fercula  nostrae 
Mallem  convivis  quam  placuisse  cocis." 

And  of  the  servile  expressing  antiquity  in  an 
unlike  and  an  unfit  subject,  it  is  well  said, 
"  Quod  tempore  antiquum  videtur,  id  incongrui- 
tate  est  maxime  novum." 

For  ciphers,  they  are  commonly  in  letters  or 
alphabets,  but  may  be  in  words.  The  kinds  of 
ciphers,  besides  the  sViple  ciphers,  with  changes, 
and  intermixtures  of  nulls  and  non-significants, 
are  many,  according  to  the  nature  or  rule  of  the 
infolding,  wheel-ciphers,  key-ciphers,  doubles, 
&c.  But  the  virtues  of  them,  whereby  they  are 
to  be  preferred,  are  three ;  that  they  be  not  labo 
rious  to  write  and  read  ;  that  they  be  impossible 
to  decipher;  and,  in  some  cases,  that  they  be 
without  suspicion.  The  highest  degree  whereof 
is  to  write  "  omnia  per  omnia;"  which  is  un 
doubtedly  possible,  with  a  proportion  quintuple 
at  most  of  the  writing  infolding  to  the  writing 
infolded,  and  no  other  restraint  whatsoever.  This 
art  of  ciphering,  hath  for  relative  an  art  of  deci 
phering,  by  supposition  unprofitable,  but,  as 
things  are,  of  great  use.  For  suppose  that  ciphers 
were  well  managed,  there  be  multitudes  of  them 
which  exclude  the  decipherer.  But  in  regard  of 
the  rawness  and  unskilfulness  of  the  hands 
through  which  they  pass,  the  greatest  matters  are 
many  times  carried  in  the  weakest  ciphers. 

In  the  enumeration  of  these  private  and  retired 
arts,  it  may  be  thought  I  seek  to  make  a  great 
muster-roll  of  sciences,  naming  them  for  show 
and  ostentation,  and  to  little  other  purpose.  But 
let  those  which  are  skilful  in  them  judge  whether 
I  bring  them  in  only  for  appearance,  or  whether  in 
that  which  I  speak  of  them,  though  in  few  marks, 
there  be  not  some  seed  of  proficience.  And  this 
must  be  remembered,  that  as  there  be  many  of 
great  account  in  their  countries  and  provinces, 
which,  when  they  come  up  to  the  seat  of  the 
estate,  are  but  of  mean  rank  and  scarcely  re 
garded  ;  so  these  arts,  being  here  placed  with  the 
principal  and  supreme  sciences,  seem  petty 
things ;  yet  to  such  as  have  chosen  them  to  spend 
their  labours  and  studies  in  them,  they  seem  great 
matters. 

For  the  method  of  tradition,  I  see  it  hath 
moved  a  controversy  in  our  time.  But  as  in  civil 
business,  if  there  be  a  meeting,  and  men  fall  at 
words,  there  is  commonly  an  end  of  the  matter 
for  that  time,  and  no  proceeding  at  all ;  so  in 
learning,  where  there  is  much  controversy,  there 
is  many  times  little  inquiry.  For  this  part  of 
knowledge  of  method  seemeth  to  me  so  weakly 
inquired  as  I  shall  report  it  deficient. 


214 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


Method  hath  been  placed,  and  that  not  amiss, 
in  logic,  as  a  part  of  judgment :  for  as  the  doc 
trine  of  syllogisms  comprehendeth  the  rules  of 
judgment  upon  that  which  is  invented,  so  the 
doctrine  of  method  containeth  the  rules  of  judg 
ment  upon  that  which  is  to  be  delivered  ;  for 
judgment  precedeth  delivery,  as  it  followeth  in 
vention.  Neither  is  the  method  or  the  nature  of 
the  tradition  material  only  to  the  use  of  know 
ledge,  but  likewise  to  the  progression  of  know 
ledge  :  for  since  the  labour  and  life  of  one  man 
cannot  attain  to  perfection  of  knowledge,  the  wis 
dom  of  the  tradition  is  that  which  inspireth  the 
felicity  of  continuance  and  proceeding.  And 
therefore  the  most  real  diversity  of  method,  is  of 
method  referred  to  use,  and  method  referred  to 
progression;  whereof  the  one  may  be  termed 
magistral,  and  the  other  of  probation. 

The  latter  whereof  seerneth  to  be  "  via  deserta 
et  interclusa."  For  as  knowledges  are  now  de 
livered,  there  is  a  kind  of  contract  of  error  be 
tween  the  deliverer  and  the  receiver :  for  he  that 
delivereth  knowledge,  desireth  to  deliver  it  in 
such  form  as  may  be  best  believed,  and  not  as 
may  be  best  examined ;  and  he  that  receiveth 
knowledge,  desireth  rather  present  satisfaction, 
than  expectant  inquiry;  and  so  rather  not  to 
doubt,  than  not  to  err :  glory  making  the  author 
not  to  lay  open  his  weakness,  and  sloth  making 
the  disciple  not  to  know  his  strength. 

But  knowledge  that  is  delivered  as  a  thread  to 
be  spun  on,  ought  to  be  delivered  and  intimated, 
if  it  were  possible,  in  the  same  method  wherein 
it  was  invented ;  and  so  is  it  possible  of  know 
ledge  induced.  But  in  this  same  anticipated  and 
prevented  knowledge,  no  man  knoweth  how  he 
came  to  the  knowledge  which  he  hath  obtained. 
But  yet  nevertheless, "  secundum  majus  et  minus," 
a  man  may  revisit  and  descend  unto  the  founda 
tions  of  his  knowledge  and  consent ;  and  so  trans 
plant  it  into  another,  as  it  grew  in  his  own  mind. 
For  it  is  in  knowledges  as  it  is  in  plants :  if  you 
mean  to  use  the  plant,  it  is  no  matter  for  the  roots; 
but  if  you  mean  to  remove  it  to  grow,  then  it  is 
more  assured  to  rest  upon  roots  than  slips  :  so  the 
delivery  of  knowledges,  as  it  is  now  used,  is  as 
of  fair  bodies  of  trees  without  the  roots;  good 
for  the  carpenter,  but  not  for  the  planter.  But  if 
you  will  have  sciences  grow,  it  is  less  matter  for 
the  shaft  or  body  of  the  tree,  so  you  look  well  to 
the  taking  up  of  the  roots :  of  which  kind  of  de 
livery  the  method  of  the  mathematics,  in  that  sub 
ject,  hath  some  shadow ;  but  generally  I  see  it 
neither  put  in  ure  nor  put  in  inquisition,  and 
therefore  note  it  for  deficient. 

Another  diversity  of  method  there  is,  which 
hath  some  affinity  with  the  former,  used  in  some 
cases  by  the  discretion  of  the  ancients,  but  dis 
graced  since  by  the  impostures  of  many  vain 
persons,  who  have  made  it  as  a  false  light  for 
their  counterfeit  merchandises ;  and  that  is,  enig 


matical  and  disclosed.  The  pretence  whereof  is, 
to  remove  the  vulgar  capacities  from  being  ad 
mitted  to  the  secrets  of  knowledges,  and  to  reserve 
them  to  selected  auditors,  or  wits  of  such  sharp 
ness  as  can  pierce  the  veil. 

Another  diversity  of  method,  whereof  the  con 
sequence  is  great,  is  the  delivery  of  knowledge 
in  aphorisms,  or  in  methods ;  wherein  we  may 
observe,  that  it  hath  been  too  much  taken  into 
custom,  out  of  a  few  axioms  or  observations  upon 
any  subject,  to  make  a  solemn  and  formal  art, 
filling  it  with  some  discourses,  and  illustrating  it 
with  examples,  and  digesting  it  into  a  sensible 
method  :  but  the  writing  in  aphorisms  hath  many 
excellent  virtues,  whereto  the  writing  in  method 
doth  not  approach. 

For  first,  it  trieth  the  writer,  whether  he  be 
superficial  or  solid  :  for  aphorisms,  except  they 
should  be  ridiculous,  cannot  be  made  but  of  the 
pith  and  heart  of  sciences ;  for  discourse  of  illus 
tration  is  cut  off;  recitals  of  examples  are  cut  off; 
discourse  of  connection  and  order  is  cut  off;  de 
scriptions  of  practice  are  cut  off;  so  there  re- 
maineth  nothing  to  fill  the  aphorisms  but  some 
good  quantity  of  observation :  and  therefore  no 
man  can  suffice,  nor  in  reason  will  attempt  to 
write  aphorisms,  but  he  that  is  sound  and 
grounded.  But  in  methods, 

"Tantum  series  junctunique  pollet, 
Tantum  de  medio  suniptis  accedit  honoris;" 

as  a  man  shall  make  a  great  show  of  an  art, 
which,  if  it  were  disjointed,  would  come  to  little. 
Secondly,  methods  are  more  fit  to  win  consent 
or  belief,  but  less  fit  to  point  to  action ;  for  they 
carry  a  kind  of  demonstration  in  orb  or  circle,  one 
part  illuminating  another,  and  therefore  satisfy ; 
but  particulars,  being  dispersed,  do  best  agree 
with  dispersed  directions.  And  lastly,  aphorisms? 
representing  a  knowledge  broken,  do  invite  men 
to  inquire  farther ;  whereas  methods,  carrying  the 
show  of  a  total,  do  secure  men,  as  if  they  were 
at  farthest. 

Another  diversity  of  method,  which  is  likewise 
of  great  weight,  is  the  handling  of  knowledge  by 
assertions  and  their  proofs,  or  by  questions  and 
their  determinations  ;  the  latter  kind  whereof,  if 
it  be  immoderately  followed,  is  as  prejudicial  to 
the  proceeding  of  learning,  as  it  is  to  the  proceed 
ing  of  an  army  to  go  about  to  besiege  every  little 
fort  or  hold.  For  if  the  field  be  kept,  and  the 
sum  of  the  enterprise  pursued,  those  smaller 
things  will  come  in  of  themselves :  indeed  a  man 
would  not  leave  some  important  piece  with  an 
enemy  at  his  back.  In  like  manner,  the  use  of 
confutation  in  the  delivery  of  sciences  ought  to 
be  very  sparing ;  arid  to  serve  to  remove  strong 
preoccupations  and  prejudgments,  and  not  to 
minister  and  excite  disputations  and  doubts. 

Another  diversity  of  method  is,  according  to  the 
subject  or  matter  which  is  handled  ;  for  there  is  a 
great  difference  in  delivery  of  the  mathematics, 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


215 


which  are  the  most  abstracted  of  knowledges,  and 
policy  which  is  the  most  immersed  ;  and  howso 
ever  contention  hath  been  moved,  touching  a 
uniformity  of  method  in  multiformity  of  matter, 
yet  we  see  how  that  opinion,  besides  the  weakness 
of  it,  hath  been  of  ill  desert  towards  learning1,  as 
that  which  taketh  the  way  to  reduce  learning1  to 
certain  empty  and  barren  generalities  ;  being  but 
the  very  husks  and  shells  of  sciences,  all  the  kernel 
being  forced  out  and  expulsed  with  the  torture  and 
press  of  the  method  :  and  therefore,  as  I  did  allow 
well  of  particular  topics  for  invention,  so  I  do 
allow  likewise  of  particular  methods  of  tradition. 

Another  diversity  of  judgment  in  the  delivery 
and  teaching  of  knowledge  is,  according  unto  the 
light  and  presuppositions  of  that  which  is  deliver 
ed  ;  for  that  knowledge  which  is  new,  and  foreign 
from  opinions  received,  is  to  be  delivered  in 
another  form  than  that  that  is  agreeable  and  fa 
miliar  ;  and  therefore  Aristotle,  when  he  thinks 
to  tax  Democritus,  doth  in  truth  commend  him, 
where  he  saith,  "  If  we  shall  indeed  dispute,  and 
not  follow  after  similitudes,"  &c.  For  those 
whose  conceits  are  seated  in  popular  opinions, 
need  only  but  to  prove  or  dispute ;  but  those 
whose  conceits  are  beyond  popular  opinions  have 
a  double  labour;  the  one  to  make  themselves 
conceived,  and  the  other  to  prove  and  demon 
strate  :  so  that  it  is  of  necessity  with  them  to  have 
recourse  to  similitudes  and  translations  to  express 
themselves.  And  therefore  in  the  infancy  of 
learning,  and  in  rude  times,  when  those  conceits 
which  are  now  trivial  were  then  new,  the  world 
was  full  of  parables  and  similitudes  ;  for  else 
would  men  either  have  passed  over  without  mark, 
or  else  rejected  for  paradoxes  that  which  was 
offered  before  they  had  understood  or  judged.  So 
in  divine  learning,  we  see  how  frequent  parables 
and  tropes  are  ;  for  it  is  a  rule,  "  That  whatsoever 
science  is  not  consonant  to  presuppositions,  must 
pray  in  aid  of  similitudes." 

There  be  also  other  diversities  of  methods,  vul 
gar  and  received  :  as  that  of  resolution  or  analysis, 
of  constitution  or  systasis,  of  concealment  or 
cryptic,  &c.,  which  I  do  allow  well  of,  though  I 
have  stood  upon  those  which  are  least  handled 
and  observed.  All  which  I  have  remembered  to 
this  purpose,  because  I  would  erect  and  constitute 
one  general  inquiry,  which  seems  to  me  deficient, 
touching  the  wisdom  of  tradition. 

But  unto  this  part  of  knowledge,  concerning 
methods,  doth  farther  belong  not  only  the  archi 
tecture  of  the  whole  frame  of  a  work,  but  also  the 
severals  beams  and  columns  thereof;  not  as  to 
their  stuff,  but  as  to  their  quantity  and  figure  : 
and  therefore  method  considereth  not  only  the 
disposition  of  the  argument  or  subject,  but  likewise 
the  propositions ;  not  as  to  their  truth  or  matter,  but 
as  to  their  limitation  and  manner.  For  herein  Ra- 
mus  merited  better  a  great  deal  in  reviving  the 
good  rules  of  propositions,  KafloAov  Trpwrov  Kara  iravr6$, 


&c.  than  he  did  in  introducing  the  canker  of  epi 
tomes  ;  and  yet  (as  it  is  the  condition  of  human 
things  that,  according  to  the  ancient  fables,  "  The 
most  precious  things  have  the  most  pernicious 
keepers ;")  it  was  so,  that  the  attempt  of  the  one 
made  him  fall  upon  the  other.  For  he  had  need 
be  well  conducted  that  should  design  to  mako 
axioms  convertible,  if  he  make  them  not  withal 
circular,  and  "  non  promovent,"  or  incurring  into 
themselves  :  but  yet  the  intention  was  excellent. 

The  other  considerations  of  method,  concerning 
propositions,  are  chiefly  touching  the  utmost  pro 
positions,  which  limit  the  dimensions  of  sciences  ; 
for  every  knowledge  may  be  fitly  said,  besides  the 
profundity,  (which  is  the  truth  and  substance  of 
it,  that  makes  it  solid,)  to  have  a  longitude  and  a 
latitude;  accounting  the  latitude  towards  other 
sciences,  and  the  longitude  towards  action  ;  that 
is,  from  the  greatest  generality  to  the  most  par 
ticular  precept :  the  'one  giveth  rule  how  far  one 
knowledge  ought  to  intermeddle  within  the  pro 
vince  of  another,  which  is  the  rule  they  call  KaVavrd; 
the  other  giveth  rule  unto  what  degree  of  particu 
larity  a  knowledge  should  descend  :  which  latter 
I  find  passed  over  in  silence,  being  in  my  judg 
ment  the  more  material  ;  for  certainly  there  must 
be  somewhat  left  to  practice  ;  but  how  much  is 
worthy  the  inquiry.  We  see  remote  and  super 
ficial  generalities  do  but  offer  knowledge  to  scorn 
of  practical  men  ;  and  are  no  more  aiding  to  prac 
tice,  than  an  Ortelius's  universal  map  is  to  direct 
the  way  between  London  and  York.  The  better 
sort  of  rules  have  been  not  unfitly  compared  to 
glasses  of  steel  unpolished,  where  you  may  see 
the  images  of  things,  but  first  they  must  be  filed  ; 
so  the  rules  will  help,  if  they  be  laboured  and 
polished  by  practice.  But  how  crystalline  they 
may  be  made  at  the  first,  and  how  far  forth  they 
may  be  polished  aforehand,  is  the  question;  the 
inquiry  whereof  seemeth  to  me  deficient. 

There  hath  been  also  laboured  and  put  in  prac 
tice  a  method,  which  is  not  a  lawful  method,  but 
a  method  of  imposture ;  which  is,  to  deliver  know 
ledges  in  such  manner,  as  men  may  speedily  come 
to  make  a  show  of  learning  who  have  it  not :  such 
was  the  travail  of  Raymundus  Lullius,  in  making 
that  art  which  bears  his  name  ;  not  unlike  to  some 
books  of  typocosmy,  which  have  been  made  since ; 
being  nothing  but  a  mass  of  words  of  all  arts,  to 
give  men  countenance,  that  those  which  use  the 
terms  might  be  thought  to  understand  the  art; 
which  collections  are  much  like  a  flipper's  or 
broker's  shop,  that  hath  ends  of  every  thing,  but 
nothing  of  worth. 

Now  we  descend  to  that  part  which  concerneth 
the  illustration  of  tradition,  comprehended  in  that 
science  which  we  call  Rhetoric,  or  art  of  elo 
quence  ;  a  science  excellent,  and  excellently  well 
laboured.  For  although  in  true  value  it  is  inferior 
to  wisdom,  (as  it  is  said  by  God  to  Moses,  when 
he  disabled  himself  for  want  of  this  faculty,  Aaron 


216 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


shall  be  thy  speaker,  and  thou  shalt  be  to  him  as 
God  :)  yet  with  the  people  it  is  the  more  mighty; 
for  so  Solomon  saith,  "  Sapiens  cordeappellabitur 
prudens,  sed  dulcis  eloquio  majora  reperiet  ;" 
signifying,  that  profoundness  of  wisdom  will  help 
a  man  to  a  name  or  admiration,  but  that  it  is  elo 
quence  that  prevaileth  in  an  active  life.  And  as 
to  the  labouring  of  it,  the  emulation  of  Aristotle 
with  the  rhetoricians  of  his  time,  and  the  expe 
rience  of  Cicero,  hath  made  them  in  their  works 
of  rhetoric  exceed  themselves.  Again,  the  ex 
cellency  of  examples  of  eloquence  in  the  orations 
of  Demosthenes  and  Cicero,  added  to  the  perfec 
tion  of  the  precepts  of  eloquence,  hath  doubled 
the  progression  in  this  art ;  and  therefore  the  de 
ficiencies  which  I  shall  note  will  rather  be  in  some 
collections,  which  may  as  handmaids  attend  the 
art,  than  in  the  rules  or  use  of  the  art  itself. 

Notwithstanding,  to  stir  the  earth  a  little  about 
the  roots  of  this  science,  as  we  have  done  of  the 
rest ;  the  duty  and  office  of  Rhetoric  is,  to  apply 
reason  to  imagination  for  the  better  moving  of  the 
will.  For  we  see  reason  is  disturbed  in  the  ad 
ministration  thereof  by  three  means;  by  illaquea- 
tion  or  sophism,  which  pertains  to  logic ;  by  ima 
gination  or  impression,  which  pertains  to  rhetoric ; 
and  by  passion  or  affection,  which  pertains  to 
morality.  And  as  in  negotiation  with  others,  men 
are  wrought  by  cunning,  by  importunity,  and  by 
vehemency ;  so  in  this  negotiation  within  our 
selves,  men  are  undermined  by  consequences, 
solicited  and  importuned  by  impressions  or  obser 
vations,  and  transported  by  passions.  Neither  is 
the  nature  of  man  so  unfortunately  built,  as  that 
those  powers  and  arts  should  have  force  to  disturb 
reason,  and  not  to  establish  and  advance  it :  for 
the  end  of  logic  is,  to  teach  a  form  of  argument 
to  secure  reason,  and  not  to  entrap  it ;  the  end  of 
morality  is  to  procure  the  affections  to  obey  rea 
son,  and  not  to  invade  it ;  the  end  of  rhetoric  is, 
to  fill  the  imagination  to  second  reason,  and  not 
to  oppress  it :  for  these  abuses  of  arts  come  in  but 
"  ex  obliquo,"  for  caution. 

And  therefore  it  was  great  injustice  in  Plato, 
though  springing  out  of  a  just  hatred  of  the  rhe 
toricians  of  his  time,  to  esteem  of  rhetoric  but  as 
a  voluptuary  art,  resembling  it  to  cookery,  that 
did  mar  wholesome  meats,  and  help  unwholesome 
by  variety  of  sauces  to  the  pleasure  of  the  taste. 
For  we  see  that  speech  is  much  more  conversant 
in  adorning  that  which  is  good,  than  in  colouring 
that  which  is  evil;  for  there  is  no  man  but 
speaketh  more  honestly  than  he  can  do  or  think ; 
and  it  was  excellently  noted  by  Thucydides  in 
Cleon,  that  because  he  used  to  hold  on  the  bad 
side  in  causes  of  estate,  therefore  he  was  ever 
inveighing  against  eloquence  and  good  speech; 
knowing  that  no  man  can  speak  fair  of  courses 
sordid  and  base.  And  therefore  as  Plato  said 
eiegantly,  "That  Virtue,  if  she  could  be  seen, 
would  move  great  love  and  affection;"  so  seeing 


that  she  cannot  be  showed  to  the  sense  by  corpo 
ral  shape,  the  next  degree  is  to  show  her  to  the 
imagination  in  lively  representation :  for  to  show 
her  to  reason  only  in  subtilty  of  argument,  was 
a  thing  ever  derided  in  Chrysippus  and  many  of 
the  Stoics ;  who  thought  to  thrust  virtue  upon 
men  by  sharp  disputations  and  conclusions,  which 
have  no  sympathy  with  the  will  of  man. 

Again,  if  the  affections  in  themselves  were  pli 
ant  and  obedient  to  reason,  it  were  true,  there 
should  be  no  great  use  of  persuasions  and  insinua 
tions  to  the  will,  more  than  of  naked  proposition 
and  proofs ;  but  in  regard  to  the  continual  muti 
nies  and  seditions  of  the  affections, 

"  Video  meliora,  proboque  ; 
Deteriora  sequor :" 

reason  would  become  captive  and  servile,  if  elo 
quence  of  persuasions  did  not  practise  and  win 
the  imagination  from  the  affections  part,  and  con 
tract  a  confederacy  between  the  reason  and  ima 
gination  against  the  affections ;  for  the  affections 
themselves  carry  ever  an  appetite  to  good,  as  rea 
son  doth.  The  difference  is,  that  the  affection 
beholdeth  merely  the  present;  reason  beholdeth 
the  future  and  sum  of  time.  And  therefore  the 
present  filling  the  imagination  more,  reason  is 
commonly  vanquished;  but  after  that  force  of 
eloquence  and  persuasion  hath  made  things  future 
and  remote  appear  as  present,  then  upon  the  re 
volt  of  the  imagination  reason  prevaileth. 

We  conclude,  therefore,  that  rhetoric  can  be 
no  more  charged  with  the  colouring  of  the  worst 
part,  than  logic  with  sophistry,  or  morality  with 
vice.  For  we  know  the  doctrines  of  contraries  are 
the  same,  though  the  use  be  opposite.  It  appeareth 
also  that  logic  differeth  from  rhetoric,  not  only  as 
the  fist  from  the  palm,  the  one  close  the  other  at 
large ;  but  much  more  in  this,  that  logic  handlcth 
reason  exact  and  in  truth,  and  rhetoric  handleth  it 
as  it  is  planted  in  popular  opinions  and  manners. 
And  therefore  Aristotle  doth  wisely  place  rhetoric 
.as  between  logic  on  the  one  side,  and  moral  or 
civil  knowledge  on  the  other,  as  participating  of 
both :  for  the  proofs  and  demonstrations  of  logic 
are  toward  all  men  indifferent  and  the  same;  but 
the  proofs  and  persuasions  of  rhetoric  ought  to 
differ  according  to  the  auditors  : 

"  Orpheus  in  sylvis,  inter  delphinas  Arion  :" 
which  application,  in  perfection  of  idea,  ought  to 
extend  so  far,  that  if  a  man  should  speak  of  the 
same  thing  to  several  persons,  he  should  speak  to 
them  all  respectively  in  several  ways :  though 
this  politic  part  of  eloquence  in  private  speech  it 
is  easy  for  the  greatest  orators  to  want ;  whilst, 
by  the  observing  their  well-graced  forms  of  speech, 
they  lose  the  volubility  of  application  :  and  there 
fore  it  shall  not  be  amiss  to  recommend  this  to 
better  inquiry,  not  being  curious  whether  we  place 
it  here,  or  in  that  part  which  concerneth  policy. 

Now,  therefore,  will  I  descend  to  the  deficiencies, 
which,  as  I  said,  are  but  attendances:  and  first,  I 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


217 


do  not  find  the  wisdom  and  diligence  of  Aristotle 
well  pursued,  who  began  to  make  a  collection  of 
the  popular  signs  and  colours  of  good  and  evil, 
both  simple  and  comparative,  which  are  as  the 
sophisms  of  rhetoric,  as  I  touched  before.  For 
example : 

SOPHISMA. 

"  Quod  laudatur,  bonum  :  quod  vituperatur,  malum." 

REDARGUTIO. 

"Laudat  venales  qui  vult  extrudere  merces. 
Malurn  est,  rnaliun  est,  inquit  emptor:  sed  cum  reces- 
serit,  turn  gloriabitur." 

The  defects  in  the  labour  ot  Aristotle  are  three : 
one,  that  there  be  but  a  few  of  many;  another, 
that  their  elenches  are  not  annexed :  and  the  third, 
that  he  conceived  but  a  part  of  the  use  of  them : 
for  their  use  is  not  only  in  probation,  but  much 
more  in  impression.  For  many  forms  are  equal 
in  signification  which  are  differing  in  impression ; 
as  the  difference  is  great  in  the  piercing  of  that 
which  is  sharp  and  that  which  is  flat,  though  the 
strength  of  the  percussion  be  the  same  :  for  there 
is  no  man  but  will  be  a  little  more  raised  by  hear 
ing  it  said,  "  Your  enemies  will  be  glad  of  this  :" 

"Hoc  Ithacus  velit,  et  magno  mercentur  Atridre  :" 

than  by  hearing  it  said  only,  "This  is  evil  for 
you." 

Secondly,  I  do  resume  also  that  which  I  men 
tioned  before,  touching  provision  or  preparatory 
store,  for  the  furniture  of  speech  and  readiness 
of  invention,  which  appeareth  to  be  of  two  sorts ; 
the  one  in  resemblance  to  a  shop  of  pieces  un 
made  up,  the  other  to  a  shop  of  things  ready  made 
up;  both  to  be  applied  to  that  which  is  frequent 
and  most  in  request :  the  former  of  these  I  will 
call  antitheta,  and  the  latter  formulas. 

Antitheta  are  theses  argued  "proet  contra;" 
wherein  men  may  be  more  large  and  laborious : 
but,  in  such  as  are  able  to  do  it,  to  avoid  prolixity 
of  entry,  I  wish  the  seeds  of  the  several  argu 
ments  to  be  cast  up  into  some  brief  and  acute 
sentences,  not  to  be  cited,  but  to  be  as  skains  or 
bottoms  of  thread,  to  be  unwinded  at  large  when 
they  come  to  be  used ;  applying  authorities  and 
examples  by  reference. 

PRO   VERBIS   LEO 

"Non  est  interpretatio,  sed  divinatio,  quse  recedit,  a  liter&  : 
Cum  receditur  a  litera,  judex  transit  in  legislatorem." 

PRO   SEXTENTIA   LEGIS. 

"  Ex  omnibus  verbis  est  eliciendus  sensus,  qui  interpretatur 
singula." 

Formulae  are  but  decent  and  apt  passages  or 
conveyances  of  speech,  which  may  serve  indiffer 
ently  for  differing  subjects;  as  of  preface,  con 
clusion,  digression,  transition,  excusation,  &c. 
For  as  in  buildings,  there  is  great  pleasure  and 
use  in  the  well-casting  of  the  staircases,  entries, 
doors,  windows,  and  the  like ;  so  in  speech,  the 
conveyances  and  passages  are  of  special  orna 
ment  and  effect. 

VOL.  I — 28 


A   CONCLUSION   IN  A  DELIBERATIVE. 

"  So  may  we  redeem  the  faults  passed,  and  prevent  the 
inconveniences  future." 

There  remain  two  appendices  touching  the 
tradition  of  knowledge,  the  one  critical,  the  other 
pedantical.  For  all  knowledge  is  either  delivered 
by  teachers,  or  attained  by  men's  proper  endea 
vours  :  and  therefore  as  the  principal  part  of  tra 
dition  of  knowledge  concerneth  chiefly  writing 
of  books,  so  the  relative  part  thereof  concerneth 
reading ,pf  books;  whereunto  appertain  incidently 
these  considerations.  The  first  is  concerning  the 
true  correction  and  edition  of  authors ;  wherein 
nevertheless  rash  diligence  hath  done  great  pre 
judice.  For  these  critics  have  often  presumed, 
that  that  which  they  understand  not  is  false  set 
down :  as  the  priest  that,  where  he  found  it  was 
written  of  St.  Paul,  "  Demissus  est  per  sportam," 
mended  his  book,  and  made  it  "  Demissus  est 
per  portam;"  because  sporta  was  a  hard  word, 
and  out  of  his  reading :  and  surely  their  errors, 
though  they  be  not  so  palpable  and  ridiculous, 
are  yet  of  the  same  kind.  And  therefore,  as  it 
hath  been  wisely  noted,  the  most  corrected  copies 
are  commonly  the  least  correct. 

The  second  is  concerning  the  exposition  and 
explication  of  authors,  which  resteth  in  annota 
tions  and  commentaries :  wherein  it  is  over  usual 
to  blanch  the  obscure  places,  and  discourse  upon 
the  plain. 

The  third  is  concerning  the  times,  which  in 
many  cases  give  great  light  to  true  interpreta 
tions. 

The  fourth  is  concerning  some  brief  censure 
and  judgment  of  the  authors;  that  men  thereby 
may  make  some  election  unto  themselves  what 
books  to  read. 

And  the  fifth  is  concerning  the  syntax  and 
disposition  of  studies ;  that  men  may  know  in 
what  order  or  pursuit  to  read. 

For  pedantical  knowledge,  it  containeth  that 
difference  of  tradition  which  is  proper  for  youth ; 
whereunto  appertain  divers  considerations  of  great 
fruit. 

As  first,  the  timing  and  seasoning  of  know 
ledge  ;  as  with  what  to  initiate  them,  and  from 
what  for  a  time  to  refrain  them. 

Secondly,  the  consideration  where  to  begin 
with  the  easiest,  and  so  proceed  to  the  more  diffi 
cult  ;  and  in  what  courses  to  press  the  more  diffi 
cult,  and  then  to  turn  them  to  the  more  easy ;  for 
it  is  one  method  to  practise  swimming  with  blad 
ders,  and  another  to  practise  dancing  with  heavy 
shoes. 

A  third  is,  the  application  of  learning  according 
unto  the  propriety  of  the  wits ;  for  there  is  no 
defect  in  the  faculties  intellectual,  but  seemeth  to 
have  a  proper  cure  contained  in  some  studies  :  as 
for  example,  if  a  child  be  bird-witted,  that  is, 
hath  not  the  faculty  of  attention,  the  mathematics 
giveth  a  remedy  thereunto ;  for  in  them,  if  the 
T 


218 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


wit  be  caught  away  out  a  moment,  one  is  to  begin 
anew.  And  as  sciences  have  a  propriety  towards 
faculties  for  cure  and  help,  so  faculties  or  powers 
have  a  sympathy  towards  sciences  for  excellency 
or  speedy  profiting ;  and  therefore  it  is  an  inquiry 
of  great  wisdom,  what  kinds  of  wits  and  natures 
are  most  apt  and  proper  for  what  sciences. 

Fourthly,  the  ordering  of  exercises  is  matter 
of  great  consequence  to  hurt  or  help :  for,  as  is 
well  observed  by  Cicero,  men  in  exercising  their 
faculties,  if  they  be  not  well  advised,  do  exercise 
their  faults  and  get  ill  habits  as  well  as  good ;  so 
there  is  a  great  judgment  to  be  had  in  the  con 
tinuance  and  intermission  of  exercises.  It  were 
too  long  to  particularize  a  number  of  other  con 
siderations  of  this  nature,  things  but  of  mean 
appearance,  but  of  singular  efficacy.  For  as  the 
wronging  or  cherishing  of  seeds  or  young  plants 
is  that  that  is  most  important  to  their  thriving: 
(and  as  it  was  noted  that  the  first  six  kings,  be 
ing  in  truth  as  tutors  of  the  state  of  Rome  in  the 
infancy  thereof,  was  the  principal  cause  of  the 
immense  greatness  of  that  state  which  followed:) 
so  the  culture  and  manurance  of  minds  in  youth 
hath  such  a  forcible,  though  unseen,  operation,  as 
hardly  any  length  of  time  or  contention  of  labour 
can  countervail  it  afterwards.  And  it  is  not  amiss 
to  observe  also  how  small  and  mean  faculties 
gotten  by  education,  yet  when  they  fall  into  great 
men  or  great  matters,  do  work  great  and  import 
ant  effects;  whereof  we  see  a  notable  example 
in  Tacitus  of  two  stage  players,  Percennius  and 
Vibulenus,  who  by  their  faculty  of  playing  put 
the  Pannonian  armies  into  an  extreme  tumult  and 
combustion  :  for  there  arising  a  mutiny  amongst 
them  upon  the  death  of  Augustus  Caesar,  Blaesus 
the  lieutenant  had  committed  some  of  the  muti 
neers,  which  were  suddenly  rescued  ;  whereupon 
Vibulenus  got  to  be  heard  speak,  which  he  did  in 
this  manner : — "  These  poor  innocent  wretches, 
appointed  to  cruel  death,  you  have  restored  to  be 
hold  the  light ;  but  who  shall  restore  my  brother 
to  me,  or  life  unto  my  brother,  that  was  sent 
hither  in  message  from  the  legions  of  Germany, 
to  treat  of  the  common  cause  1  and  he  hath  mur- 
dered  him  this  last  night  by  some  of  his  fencers 
and  ruffians,  that  he  hath  about  him  for  his  exe 
cutioners  upon  soldiers.  Answer,  Blaesus,  what 
is  done  with  his  body  1  The  mortalest  enemies 
do  not  deny  burial.  When  I  have  performed  my 
last  duties  to  the  corpse  with  kisses,  with  tears, 
command  me  to  be  slain  beside  him;  so  that 
these  my  fellows,  for  our  good  meaning,  and  our 
true  hearts  to  the  legions,  may  have  leave  to  bury 
us."  With  which  speech  he  put  the  army  into 
an  infinite  fury  and  uproar :  whereas  truth  was  he 
had  no  brother,  neither  was  there  any  such  matter; 
but  he  played  it  merely  as  if  he.  had  been  upon 
the  stage. 

But  to  return:  we  are  now  come  to  a  period  of 
Rational  Knowledges ;  wherein  if  I  have  made  | 


the  divisions  other  than  those  that  are  received, 
yet  would  I  not  be  thought  to  disallow  all  those 
divisions  which  I  do  not  use  :  for  there  is  a  double 
necessity  imposed  upon  me  of  altering  the  divi 
sions.  The  one,  because  it  differeth  in  end  and 
purpose,  to  sort  together  those  things  which  are 
next  in  nature  and  those  things  which  are  next  in 
use;  for  if  a  secretary  of  state  should  sort  his 
papers,  it  is  like  in  his  study  or  general  cabinet  he 
would  sort  together  things  of  a  nature,  as  treaties, 
instructions,  &c.,  but  in  his  boxes  or  particular  ca 
binet  he  would  sort  together  those  that  he  were  like 
to  use  together,  though  of  several  natures ;  so  in 
this  general  cabinet  of  knowledge  it  was  neces 
sary  for  me  to  follow  the  divisions  of  the  nature  of 
things  :  whereas  if  myself  had  been  to  handle  any 
particular  knowledge,  I  would  have  respected  the 
divisions  fittest  for  use.  The  other,  because  the 
bringing  in  of  the  deficiencies  did  by  consequence 
alter  the  partitions  of  the  rest :  for  let  the  know 
ledge  extant,  for  demonstration  sake,  be  fifteen ; 
let  the  knowledge  with  the  deficiencies  be  twenty ; 
the  parts  of  fifteen  are  not  the  parts  of  twenty ;  for 
the  parts  of  fifteen  are  three  and  five ;  the  parts  of 
twenty  are  two,  four,  five,  and  ten  ;  so  as  these 
things  are  without  contradiction,  and  could  not 
otherwise  be. 

WE  proceed  now  to  that  knowledge  which  con- 
sidereth  of  the  Appetite  and  Will  of  Man,  whereof 
Solomon  saith,  "  Ante  omnia,  fili,  custodi  cor 
tuum  :  nam  inde  procedunt  actiones  vitae."  In 
the  handling  of  this  science,  those  which  have 
written  seem  to  me  to  have  done  as  if  a  man,  that 
professeth  to  teach  to  write,  did  only  exhibit  fair 
copies  of  alphabets  and  letters  joined,  without  giv 
ing  any  precepts  or  directions  for  the  carriage  of 
the  hand  and  framing  of  the  letters  :  so  have  they 
made  good  and  fair  exemplars  and  copies,  carrying 
the  draughts  and  portraitures  of  good,  virtue,  duty, 
felicity  ;  propounding  them  well  described  as  the 
true  objects  and  scopes  of  man's  will  and  desires; 
but  how  to  attain  these  excellent  marks,  and  hovr 
to  frame  and  subdue  the  will  of  man  to  become 
true  and  conformable  to  those  pursuits,  they  pass 
it  over  altogether,  or  slightly  and  unprofitably  ;  for 
it  is  not  the  disputing,  that  moral  virtues  are  in  tho 
mind  of  man  by  habit  and  not  by  nature,  or  the 
distinguishing  that  generous  spirits  are  won  by 
doctrines  and  persuasions,  and  the  vulgar  sort  by 
reward  and  punishment,  and  the  like  scattered 
glances  and  touches,  that  can  excuse  the  absence 
of  this  part. 

The  reason  of  this  omission  I  suppose  to  be  that 
hidden  rock  whereupon  both  this  and  many  other 
barks  of  knowledge  have  been  cast  away;  which 
is,  that  men  have  despised  to  be  conversant  in 
ordinary  and  common  matters,  (the  judicious  di 
rection  whereof  nevertheless  is  the  wisest  doctrine, 
for  life  consisteth  not  in  novelties  or  subtilties,) 
but  contrariwise  they  have  compounded  sciences 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


219 


chiefly  of  a  certain  resplendent  or  lustrous  mass  of 
matter,  chosen  to  give  glory  either  to  subtilty  of 
disputations,  or  to  the  eloquence  of  discourses. 
But  Seneca  giveth  an  excellent  check  to  eloquence; 
"  Nocet  illis  eloquentia,  quibus  non  rerum  cupi- 
ditatem  facit,  sed  sui."  Doctrine  should  be  such 
as  should  make  men  in  love  with  the  lesson,  and 
not  with  the  teacher;  being  directed  to  the  auditor's 
benefit,  and  not  to  the  author's  commendation  : 
and  therefore  those  are  of  the  right  kind,  which 
may  be  concluded  as  Demosthenes  concludes 
his  counsel,  "  Quae  si  feceritis,  non  oratorem 
duntaxat  in  prsesentia  laudabatis,  sed  vosmetipsos 
etiam  non  ita  multo  post  statu  rerum  vestrarum 
meliore." 

Neither  needed  men  of  so  excellent  parts  to  have 
despaired  of  a  fortune,  which  the  poet  Virgil  pro 
mised  himself,  and  indeed  obtained,  who  got  as 
much  glory  of  eloquence,  wit,  and  learning  in  the 
expressing  of  the  observations  of  husbandry,  as 
of  the  heroical  acts  of  ^Eneas: — 

"  Nee  sum  animi  dubius,  verbis  ea  vinccre  magnum 
Quam  sit,  et  angustis  his  addere  rebus  honorem." 

Georg.  iii.  289. 

And  surely,  if  the  purpose  be  in  good  earnest, 
not  to  write  at  leisure  that  which  men  may  read 
at  leisure,  but  really  to  instruct  and  suborn  action 
and  active  life,  these  Georgics  of  the  mind,  con 
cerning  the  husbandry  and  tillage  thereof,  are  no 
less  worthy  than  the  heroical  descriptions  of  vir 
tue,  duty,  and  felicity.  Wherefore  the  main  and 
primitive  division  of  moral  knowledge  seemeth  to 
be  into  the  Exemplar  or  Platform  of  Good,  and  the 
Regiment  or  Culture  of  the  Mind;  the  one  de 
scribing  the  nature  of  Good,  the  other  prescribing 
rules  how  to  subdue,  apply,  and  accommodate  the 
Will  of  Man  thereunto. 

The  doctrine  touching  the  Platform  or  Nature 
of  Good  considereth  it  either  simple  or  compared ; 
either  the  kinds  of  good,  or  the  degrees  of  good : 
in  the  latter  whereof  those  infinite  disputations 
which  were  touching  the  supreme  degree  thereof, 
which  they  term  felicity,  beatitude,  or  the  high 
est  good,  the  doctrines  concerning  which  were  as 
the  heathen  divinity,  are  by  the  Christian  faith  dis 
charged.  And  as  Aristotle  saith,  "  That  young 
men  may  be  happy,  but  not  otherwise  but  by 
hope  ;"  so  we  must  all  acknowledge  our  minority, 
and  embrace  the  felicity  which  is  by  hope  of  the 
future  \*orld. 

Freed  therefore  and  delivered  from  this  doctrine 
of  the  philosopher's  heaven,  whereby  they  feigned 
a  higher  elevation  of  man's  nature  than  was,  (for 
we  see  in  what  a  height  of  style  Seneca  writeth 
"Vere  magnum,  habere  fragilitatem,  hominis 
securitatem  Dei,"  we  may  with  more  sobriety  and 
truth  receive  the  rest  of  their  inquiries  and  la 
bours  ;  wherein  for  the  nature  of  good  positive  or 
simple,  they  have  set  it  down  excellently,  in  de 
scribing  the  forms  of  virtue  and  duty,  with  thei 
situations  and  postures ;  in  distributing  them  into 


their  kinds,  parts,  provinces,  actions,  and  admi 
nistrations,  and  the  like :  nay  farther,  they  have 
commended  them  to  man's  nature  and  spirit,  with 
great  quickness  of  argument  and  beauty  of  per- 
uasions ;  yea,  and  fortified  and  intrenched  them, 
as  much  as  discourse  can  do,  against  corrupt  and 
popular  opinions.  Again,  for  the  degrees  and 
comparative  nature  of  good,  they  have  also  excel- 
ently  handled  it  in  their  triplicity  of  good,  in  the 
comparison  between  a  contemplative  and  an  ac 
tive  life,  in  the  distinction  between  virtue  with 
reluctation  and  virtue  secured,  in  their  encounters 
between  honesty  and  profit,  in  their  balancing  of 
virtue  with  virtue,  and  the  like ;  so  as  this  part 
ieserveth  to  be  reported  for  excellently  laboured. 

Notwithstanding,  if  before  they  had  come  to 
the  popular  and  received  notions  of  virtue  and 
vice,  pleasure  and  pain,  and  the  rest,  they  had 
stayed  a  little  longer  upon  the  inquiry  concerning1 
the  roots  of  good  and  evil,  and  the  strings  of  those 
roots,  they  had  given,  in  my  opinion,  a  great  light 
to  that  which  followed ;  and  especially  if  they 
had  consulted  with  nature,  they  had  made  their 
doctrines  less  prolix  and  more  profound :  which 
being  by  them  in  part  omitted  and  in  part  han 
dled  with  much  confusion,  we  will  endeavour  to 
resume  and  open  in  a  more  clear  manner. 

There  is  formed  in  every  thing  a  double  nature 
of  good  :  the  one,  as  every  thing  is  a  total  or  sub 
stantive  in  itself;  the  other,  as  it  is  a  part  or  mem 
ber  of  a  greater  body :  whereof  the  latter  is  in 
degree  the  greater  and  the  worthier,  because  it 
tendeth  to  the  conservation  of  a  more  general 
form.  Therefore  we  see  the  iron  in  particular 
sympathy  moveth  to  the  loadstone ;  but  yet  if  it 
exceed  a  certain  quantity,  it  forsaketh  the  affec 
tion  to  the  loadstone,  and  like  a  good  patriot 
moveth  to  the  earth,  which  is  the  region  and 
country  of  massy  bodies  ;  so  may  we  go  forward, 
and  see  that  water  and  massy  bodies  move  to  the 
centre  of  the  earth ;  but  rather  than  to  suffer  a  di- 
vulsion  in  the  continuance  of  nature,  they  will 
move  upwards  from  the  centre  of  the  earth,  for 
saking  their  duty  to  the  earth  in  regard  to  their 
duty  to  the  world.  This  double  nature  of  good, 
and  the  comparative  thereof,  is  much  more  en 
graven  upon  man,  if  he  degenerate  not;  unto 
whom  the  conservation  of  duty  to  the  public 
ought  to  be  much  more  precious  than  the  conser 
vation  of  life  and  being:  according  to  that  memo 
rable  speech  of  Pompeius  Magnus,  when  being 
in  commission  of  purveyance  for  a  famine  at  Rome, 
and  being  dissuaded  with  great  vehemency  and 
instance  by  his  friends  about  him,  that  he  should 
not  hazard  himself  to  sea  in  an  extremity  of 
weather,  he  said  only  to  them,  "  Necesso  est  ut 
earn,  non  ut  vivam."  But  it  may  be  truly  affirm 
ed  that  there  was  never  any  philosophy,  religion, 
or  other  discipline,  which  did  so  plainly  and 
highly  exalt  the  good  which  is  communicative, 
and  depress  the  good  which  is  private  and  parti- 


220 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  n. 


cular,  as  the  Holy  Faith;  well  declaring,  that  it 
was  the  same  God  that  gave  the  Christian  law  to 
men,  who  gave  those  laws  of  nature  to  inanimate 
creatures  that  we  speak  of  before;  for  we  read 
that  the  elected  saints  of  God  have  wished  them 
selves  anathematized  and  razed  out  of  the  book 
of  life,  in  an  ecstasy  of  charity  and  infinite  feeling 
of  communion. 

This  being  set  down  and  strongly  planted,  doth 
judge  and  determine  most   of  the  controversies 
wherein  moral  philosophy  is  conversant.     For 
first,  it  decideth  the  question  touching  the  prefer 
ment  of  the  contemplative  or  active  life,  and  de 
cideth  it  against  Aristotle.     For  all  the  reasons 
which  he  bringeth  for  the  contemplative  are  pri 
vate,  and  respecting  the  pleasure  and  dignity  of  a 
man's  self,  in  which  respects,  no  question,  the 
contemplative  life  hath  the   pre-eminence :    not 
much  unlike  to  that  comparison,  which  Pythago 
ras  made  for  the  gracing  and  magnifying  of  phi 
losophy   and   contemplation;  who,   being  asked 
what  he  was,  answered,   "That  if  Hiero  were 
ever  at  the  Olympian  games,  he  knew  the  manner, 
that  some  came  to  try  their  fortune  for  the  prizes, 
and  some  came  as  merchants  to  utter  their  com 
modities,  and  some  came  to  make  good  cheer  and 
meet  their  friends,  and  some  came  to  look  on ;  and 
that  he  was  one  of  them  that  came  to  look  on." 
But  men  must  know,  that  in  this  theatre  of  man's 
life  it  is  reserved  only  for  God  and  angels  to  be 
lookers  on :  neither  could  the  like  question  ever 
have  been  received  in  the  church,  (notwithstand 
ing  their  "  Pretiosa  in  oculis  Domini  mors  sancto 
rum  ejus,"  by  which  place  they  would  exalt  their 
civil  death  and  regular  professions,)  but  upon  this 
defence,  that  the  monastical  life  is  not  simply  con 
templative,  but  performeth  the  duty  either  of  in 
cessant  prayers   and   supplications,  which  hath 
been  truly  esteemed  as  an  office  in  the  church,  or 
else  of  writing  or  in  taking  instructions  for  writ 
ing  concerning  the  law  of  God,  as   Moses   did 
when  he  abode  so  long  in  the  mount.     And  so  we 
see  Enoch  the  seventh  from  Adam,  who  was  the 
first  contemplative,  and  walked   with   God,  ye' 
did  also  endow  the  church  with  prophecy,  whicl 
St.  Jude  citeth.      But  for  contemplation  which 
should  be  finished  in  itself,  without  casting  beams 
upon  society,  assuredly  divinity  knoweth  it  not. 
It  decideth  also  the  controversies  between  Zeno 
and  Socrates,  and  their  schools  and  successions 
on  the  one  side,  who  placed  felicity  in  virtue  sim 
ply  or  attended,  the  actions  and  exercises  whereof 
do  chiefly  embrace  and  concern  society;  and  on 
the  other  side,  the  Cyrenaics  and  Epicureans,  wh 
placed  it  in  pleasure,  and  made  virtue,  (as  it  is 
used  in  some  comedies   of  errors,  wherein  tin 
mistress  and  the  maid  change  habits,)  to  be  bu 
as  a  servant,  without  which  pleasure  cannot  b< 
served  and  attended,  and  the  reformed  school  ol 
the  Epicureans,  which  placed  it  in  serenity  oi 
mind  and  freedom  from  perturbation,  (as  if  they 


would  have  deposed  Jupiter  again,  and  restored 
Saturn  and  the  first  age,  when  there  was  no  sum- 
ner  nor  winter,  spring  nor  autumn,  but  all  after 
me  air  and  season,)  and  Herillus,  who  placed  fe- 
icity  in  extinguishment  of  the  disputes  of  the 
nind,  making  no  fixed  nature  of  good  and  evil, 
:steeming  things  according  to  the  clearness  of  the 
lesires,  or  the  reluctation ;  which  opinion  was 
evived  in  the  heresy  of  the  Anabaptists,  mea- 
iuring  things  according  to  the  motions  of  the 
ipirit,  and  the  constancy  or  wavering  of  belief : 
ill  which  are  manifest  to  tend  to  private  repose 
ind  contentment,  and  not  to  point  of  society. 

It  censureth  also  the  philosophy  of  Epictetus, 
vhich  presupposeth  that  felicity  must  be  placed 
n  those  things  which  are  in  our  power,  lest  we  be 
iable  to  fortune  and  disturbance  :  as  if  it  were 
lot  a  thing  much  more  happy  to  fail  in  good  and 
irtuous  ends  for  the  public,  than  to  obtain  all  that 
we  can  wish  to  ourselves  in  our  proper  fortune ; 
as  Gonsalvo  said  to  his  soldiers,  showing  them 
Naples,  and  protesting,  "He  had  rather  die  one 
bot  forwards,  than  to  have  his  life  secured  for 
ong  by  one  foot  of  retreat."  Whereunto  the 
wisdom  of  that  heavenly  leader  hath  signed,  who 
lath  affirmed  that  a  good  conscience  is  a  contin 
ual  feast;  showing  plainly  that  the  conscience  of 
good  intentions,  howsoever  succeeding,  is  a  more 
continual  joy  to  nature  than  all  the  provision 
which  can  be  made  for  security  and  repose. 

It  censureth  likewise  that  abuse  of  philosophy, 
which  grew  general  about  the  time  of  Epictetus, 
in  converting  it  into  an  occupation  or  profession  ; 
as  if  the  purpose  had  been,  not  to  resist  and  extin 
guish  perturbations,  but  to  fly  and  avoid  the 
causes  of  them,  and  to  shape  a  particular  kind 
and  course  of  life  to  that  end ;  introducing  such 
a  health  of  mind,  as  was  that  health  of  body  of 
which  Aristotle  speaketh  of  Herodicus,  who  did 
nothing  all  his  life  long  but  intend  his  health : 
whereas  if  men  refer  themselves  to  duties  of 
society,  as  that  health  of  body  is  best,  which  is 
ablest  to  endure  all  alterations  and  extremities : 
so  likewise  that  health  of  mind  is  most  proper, 
which  can  go  through  the  greatest  temptations 
and  perturbations.  So  as  Diogenes's  opinion  is 
to  be  accepted,  who  commended  not  them  which 
abstained,  but  them  which  sustained,  and  could 
refrain  their  mind  "  in  prsecipitio,"  and  could  give 
unto  the  mind,  as  is  used  in  horsemanship,  the 
shortest  stop  or  turn. 

Lastly,  it  censureth  the  tenderness  and  want 
of  application  in  some  of  the  most  ancient  and 
reverend  philosophers  and  philosophical  men, 
that  did  retire  too  easily  from  civil  business,  for 
avoiding  of  indignities  and  perturbations :  where 
as  the  resolution  of  men  truly  moral  ought  to  be 
such  as  the  same  Gonsalvo  said  the  honour  of  a 
soldier  should  be,  "  e  tela  crassiore,"  and  not  so 
fine  as  that  every  thing  should  catch  in  it  and 
endanger  it. 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


221 


To  resume  private  or  particular  good,  it  falleth 
into  the  division  of  good  active  and  passive  :  for 
this  difference  of  good,  not  unlike  to  that  which 
amongst  the  Romans  was  expressed  in  the  fami 
liar  or  household  terms  of  Promus  and  Condus, 
is  formed  also  in  all  things,  and  is  best  disclosed 
in  the  two  several  appetites  in  creatures ;  the  one 
to  preserve  or  continue  themselves,  and  the  other 
to  dilate  or  multiply  themselves ;  whereof  the 
latter  seemeth  to  be  the  worthier :  for  in  nature 
the  heavens,  which  are  the  more  worthy,  are  the 
agent ;  and  the  earth,  which  is  the  less  worthy, 
is  the  patient.  In  the  pleasures  of  living  crea 
tures,  that  of  generation  is  greater  than  that  of 
food;  in  divine  doctrine,  "  Beatius  est  dare 
quam  accipere ;"  and  in  life,  there  is  no  man's 
spirit  so  soft,  but  esteemeth  the  effecting  of  some 
what  that  he  hath  fixed  in  his  desire,  more  than 
sensuality :  which  priority  of  the  active  good,  is 
much  upheld  by  the  consideration  of  our  estate 
to  be  mortal  and  exposed  to  fortune  :  for  if  we 
might  have  a  perpetuity  and  certainty  in  our 
pleasures,  the  state  of  them  would  advance  their 
price :  but  when  we  see  it  is  but  "  Magni  aesti- 
mamus  mori  tardius,"  and  "  Ne  glorieris  de  cras- 
tino,  nescis  partum  diei,"  it  maketh  us  to  desire 
to  have  somewhat  secured  and  exempted  from 
time,  which  are  only  our  deeds  and  works :  as  it 
is  said,  "  Opera  eorum  sequuntur  eos."  The  pre 
eminence  likewise  of  this  active  good  is  upheld 
by  the  affection  which  is  natural  in  man  towards 
variety  and  proceeding;  which  in  the  pleasures 
of  the  sense,  which  is  the  principal  part  of  pas 
sive  good,  can  have  no  great  latitude:  "Cogita 
quamdiu  eadem  feceris;  cibus,  somnus,  ludus 
per  hunc  circulum  curritur;  mori  velle  non  tan- 
turn  fortis,  aut  miser,  aut  prudens,  sed  etiam  fas- 
tidiosus  potest."  But  in  enterprises,  pursuits, 
and  purposes  of  life,  there  is  much  variety ; 
whereof  men  are  sensible  with  pleasure  in  their 
inceptions,  progressions,  recoils,  reintegrations, 
approaches  and  attainings  to  their  ends  :  so  as  it 
was  well  said,  "Vita  sine  proposito  languida  et 
vaga  est."  Neither  hath  this  active  good  an 
identity  with  the  good  of  society,  though  in  some 
case  it  hath  an  incidence  into  it :  for  although  it 
do  many  times  bring  forth  acts  of  beneficence,  yet 
it  is  with  a  respect  private  to  a  man's  own  power, 
glory,  amplification,  continuance ;  as  appeareth 
plainly,  when  it  findeth  a  contrary  subject.  For 
that  gigantine  state  of  mind  which  possesseth  the 
troublers  of  the  world,  (such  as  was  Lucius  Sylla, 
and  infinite  other  in  smaller  model,  who  would 
have  all  men  happy  or  unhappy  as  they  were  their 
friends  or  enemies,  and  would  give  form  to  the 
vvorld,  according  to  their  own  humours,  which  is 
the  true  theomachy,)  pretendeth  and  aspireth  to 
active  good,  though  it  recedeth  farthest  from  good 
uf  society,  which  we  have  determined  to  be  the 
greater. 

To  resume  passive  good,  it  receiveth  a  subdi 


vision  of  conservative  and  perfective.  For  let  us 
take  a  brief  review  of  that  which  we  have  said  : 
we  have  spoken  first  of  the  good  of  society,  the 
intention  whereof  embraceth  the  form  of  human 
nature,  whereof  we  are  members  and  portions, 
and  not  our  own  proper  and  individual  form  :  we 
have  spoken  of  active  good,  and  supposed  it  as  a 
part  of  private  and  particular  good  :  and  rightly, 
for  there  is  impressed  upon  all  things  a  triple  de 
sire  or  appetite  proceeding  from  love  to  them 
selves  ;  one  of  preserving  and  continuing  their 
form ;  another  of  advancing  and  perfecting  their 
form ;  and  a  third  of  multiplying  and  extending 
their  form  upon  other  things  ;  whereof  the  multi 
plying,  or  signature  of  it  upon  other  things,  is  that 
which  we  handled  by  the  name  of  active  good. 
So  as  there  remaineth  the  conserving  of  it,  and 
perfecting  or  raising  of  it ;  which  latter  is  the 
highest  degree  of  passive  good.  For  to  preserve 
in  state  is  the  less,  to  preserve  with  advancement 
is  the  greater.  So  in  man, — 

"Igneus  est  ollis  vigor,  et  ccelestis  origo." 

His  approach  or  assumption  to  divine  or  angeli 
cal  nature  is  the  perfection  of  his  form ;  the  error 
or  false  imitation  of  which  good  is  that  which  is 
the  tempest  of  human  life ;  while  man,  upon  the 
instinct  of  an  advancement  formal  and  essential,  is 
carried  to  seek  an  advancement  local.  For  as  those 
which  are  sick,  and  find  no  remedy,  do  tumble  up 
and  down  and  change  place,  as  if  by  a  remove 
local  they  could  obtain  a  remove  internal ;  so  is 
it  with  men  in  ambition,  when  failing  of  the  means 
to  exalt  their  nature,  they  are  in  a  perpetual  estua- 
tion  to  exalt  their  place.  So  then  passive  good 
is,  as  was  said,  either  conservative  or  perfective. 

To  resume  the  good  of  conservation  or  comfort, 
which  consisteth  in  the  fruition  of  that  which  is 
agreeable  to  our  natures ;  it  seemeth  to  be  the 
most  pure  and  natural  of  pleasures,  but  yet  the 
softest  and  the  lowest.  And  this  also  receiveth 
a  difference,  which  hath  neither  been  well  judged 
of,  nor  well  inquired:  for  the  good  of  fruition  or 
contentment  is  placed  either  in  the  sincereness  of 
the  fruition,  or  in  the  quickness  and  vigour  of  it ; 
the  one  superinduced  by  the  quality,  the  other  by 
vicissitude ;  the  one  having  less  mixture  of  evil, 
the  other  more  impression  of  good.  Which  of 
these  is  the  greater  good,  is  a  question  contro 
verted  ;  but  whether  man's  nature  may  not  be 
capable  of  both,  is  a  question  not  inquired. 

The  former  question  being  debated  between 
Socrates  and  a  sophist,  Socrates  placing  felicity 
in  an  equal  and  constant  peace  of  mind,  and  the 
sophist  in  much  desiring  and  much  enjoying,  they 
fell  from  argument  to  ill  words :  the  sophist  say 
ing  that  Socrates's  felicity  was  the  felicity  of  a 
block  or  stone ;  and  Socrates  saying  that  the  so 
phist's  felicity  was  the  felicity  of  one  that  had  the 
itch,  who  did  nothing  but  itch  and  scratch.  And 
both:  these  opinions  do  not  want  their  supports , 


222 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


for  the  opinion  of  Socrates  is  much  upheld  by  the 
general  consent  even  of  the  Epicures  themselves, 
that  virtue  beareth  a  great  part  in  felicity ;  and  if 
so,  certain  it  is,  that  virtue  hath  more  use  in 
clearing  perturbations  than  in  compassing  desires. 
The  sophist's  opinion  is  much  favoured  by  the 
assertion  we  last  spake  of,  that  good  of  advance 
ment  is  greater  than  good  of  simple  preservation ; 
because  every  obtaining  a  desire  hath  a  show  of 
advancement,  as  motion,  though  in  a  circle,  hath 
a  show  of  progression. 

But  the  second  question,  decided  the  true  way, 
maketh  the  former  superfluous.  For  can  it  be 
doubted,  but  that  there  are  some  who  take  more 
pleasure  in  enjoying  pleasures  than  some  other, 
and  yet  nevertheless  are  less  troubled  with  the 
loss  or  leaving  of  them  1  so  as  this  same,  "  Non 
uti  ut  non  appetas,  non  appetere  ut  non  metuas,  sunt 
animi  pusilli  et  diffidentis."  And  it  seemeth  to 
me,  that  most  of  the  doctrines  of  the  philosophers 
are  more  fearful  and  cautionary  than  the  nature 
of  things  requireth.  So  have  they  increased  the 
fear  of  death  in  offering  to  cure  it :  for  when  they 
would  have  a  man's  whole  life  to  be  but  a  disci 
pline  or  preparation  to  die,  they  must  needs  make 
man  think  that  it  is  a  terrible  enemy,  against 
whom  there  ;s  no  end  of  preparing.  Better  saith 
the  poet : 

"  Qni  fmem  vitte  extremum  inter  muncra  ponat 
Naturffi." 

So  have  they  sought  to  make  men's  minds  too 
uniform  and  harmonical,  by  not  breaking  them 
sufficiently  to  contrary  motions :  the  reason  where 
of  I  suppose  to  be,  because  they  themselves  were 
men  dedicated  to  a  private,  free,  and  unapplied 
course  of  life.  For  as  we  see,  upon  the  lute  or 
like  instrument,  a  ground,  though  it  be  sweet  and 
have  show  of  many  changes,  yet  breaketh  not  the 
hand  to  such  strange  and  hard  stops  and  passages, 
as  a  set  song  or  voluntary ;  much  after  the  same 
manner  was  the  diversity  between  a  philosophical 
and  a  civil  life.  And  therefore  men  are  to  imitate 
the  wisdom  of  jewellers ;  who,  if  there  be  a  grain, 
or  a  cloud,  or  an  ice  which  may  be  ground  forth 
without  taking  too  much  of  the  stone,  they  help 
it;  but  if  it  should  lessen  and  abate  the  stone  too 
much,  they  will  not  meddle  with  it :  so  ought 
men  so  to  procure  serenity  as  they  destroy  not 
magnanimity. 

Having,  therefore,  deduced  the  good  of  man 
which  is  piivate  and  particular,  as  far  as  seemeth 
fit;  we  will  now  return  to  that  good  of  man  which 
respecteth  and  beholdeth  society,  which  we  may 
term  Duty;  because  the  term  of  Duty  is  more 
proper  to  a  mind  well  framed  and  disposed  to 
wards  others,  as  the  term  of  virtue  is  applied  to  a 
mind  well  formed  and  composed  in  itself:  though 
neither  can  a  man  understand  virtue  without  some 
relation  to  society,  nor  duty  without  an  inward 
disposition.  This  part  may  seem  at  first  to  per 
tain  to  science  civil  and  politic :  but  not  if  it  be 


well  observed ;  for  it  concerneth  the  regimen  and 
government  of  every  man  over  himself,  and  not 
over  others.  And  as  in  architecture  the  direction 
of  framing  the  posts,  beams,  and  other  parts  of 
building,  is  not  the  same  with  the  manner  of 
joining  them  and  erecting  the  building;  and  in 
mechanicals,  the  direction  how  to  frame  an  in 
strument  or  engine,  is  not  the  same  with  the 
manner  of  setting  it  on  work  and  employing  it, 
(and  yet  nevertheless  in  expressing  of  the  one 
you  incidently  express  the  aptness  towards  the 
other;)  so  the  doctrine  of  conjugation  of  men  in 
society  differeth  from  that  of  their  conformity 
thereunto. 

This  part  of  duty  is  subdivided  into  two  parts ; 
the  common  duty  of  every  man,  as  a  man  or 
member  of  a  state;  the  other,  the  respective  or 
special  duty  of  every  man,  in  his  profession,  vo 
cation,  and  place.  The  first  of  these  is  extant 
and  well  laboured,  as  hath  been  said.  The  se 
cond  likewise  I  may  report  rather  dispersed  than 
deficient;  which  manner  of  dispersed  writing  in 
this  kind  of  argument  I  acknowledge  to  be  best, : 
for  who  can  take  upon  him  to  write  of  the  proper 
duty,  virtue,  challenge,  and  right  of  every  several 
vocation,  profession  and  place"?  For  although 
sometimes  a  looker  on  may  see  more  than  a  game 
ster,  and  there  be  a  proverb  more  arrogant  than 
sound,  "That  the  vale  best  discovereth  the  hill ;" 
yet  there  is  small  doubt  but  that  men  can  write 
best,  and  most  really  and  materially,  in  their  own 
professions;  and  that  the  writing  of  speculative 
men  of  active  matter,  for  the  most  part,  doth  seem 
to  men  of  experience,  as  Phormio's  argument  of 
the  wars  seemed  to  Hannibal,  to  be  but  dreams 
and  dotage.  Only  there  is  one  vice  which  ac- 
companieth  them  that  write  in  their  own  profes 
sions,  that  they  magnify  them  in  excess.  But 
generally  it  were  to  be  wished,  as  that  which 
would  make  learning  indeed  solid  and  fruitful, 
that  active  men  would  or  could  become  writers. 

In  which  kind  I  cannot  but  mention,  "  honoris 
causa,"  your  majesty's  excellent  book  touching 
|  the  duty  of  a  king :  a  work  richly  compounded 
of  divinity,  morality,  and  policy,  writh  great  as- 
I  persion   of  all   other  arts ;   and   being,  in  mine 
i  opinion,  one   of  the   most  sound  and   healthful 
writings  that  I  have  read ;  not  distempered  in  the 
j  heat  of  invention,  nor  in  the  coolness  of  negli- 
I  gence ;   not  sick  of  business,  as  those  are  who 
I  lose  themselves  in  their  order;  nor  of  convulsions, 
|  as  those  which  cramp   in  matters   impertinent ; 
not  savouring  of  perfumes  and  paintings,  as  those 
do  who  seek  to  please  the  reader  more  than  nature 
beareth ;  and  chiefly  well  disposed  in  the  spirits 
thereof,  being  agreeable  to  truth  and  apt  for  ac 
tion  ;  and  far  removed  from  that  natural  infirmity, 
whereunto  I  noted  those  that  write  in  their  o\vn 
professions  to  be  subject,  which  is,  that  they  ex 
alt  it  above  measure  :  for  your  majesty  hath  truly 
described,  not  a  king  of  Assyria  or  Persia  in  their 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


223 


extern  glory,  but  a  Moses  or  a  David,  pastors  of 
their  people.  Neither  can  I  ever  leese  out  of  my 
remembrance,  what  I  heard  your  majesty  in  the 
same  sacred  spirit  of  government  deliver  in  a 
great  cause  of  judicature,  which  was,  "That 
kings  ruled  by  their  laws,  as  God  did  by  the  laws 
of  nature ;  and  ought  as  rarely  to  put  in  use  their 
supreme  prerogative  as  God  doth  his  power  of 
working  miracles."  And  yet  notwithstanding,  in 
your  book  of  a  free  monarchy,  you  do  well  give 
men  to  understand,  that  you  know  the  plenitude 
of  the  power  arid  right  of  a  king,  as  well  as  the 
circle  of  his  office  and  duty.  Thus  have  I  pre 
sumed  to  allege  this  excellent  writing  of  your 
majesty,  as  a  prime  or  eminent  example  of  trac 
tates  concerning  special  and  respective  duties: 
wherein  I  should  have  said  as  much,  if  it  had  been 
written  a  thousand  years  since :  neither  am  I 
moved  with  certain  courtly  decencies,  which  es 
teem  it  flattery  to  praise  in  presence:  no,  it  is 
flattery  to  praise  in  absence ;  that  is,  when  either 
the  virtue  is  absent,  or  the  occasion  is  absent; 
and  so  the  praise  is  not  natural,  but  forced,  either 
in  truth  or  in  time.  But  let  Cicero  be  read  in  his 
oration  pro  Marcello,  which  is  nothing  but  an  ex 
cellent  table  of  Caesar's  virtue,  and  made  to  his 
face ;  besides  the  example  of  many  other  excel 
lent  persons,  wiser  a  great  deal  than  such  ob 
servers  ;  and  we  will  never  doubt,  upon  a  full 
occasion,  to  give  just  praises  to  present  or  absent. 
But  to  return :  there  belongeth  further  to  the 
handling  of  this  part,  touching  the  duties  of  pro 
fessions  and  vocations,  a  relative  or  opposite, 
touching  the  frauds,  cautels,  impostures,  and  vices 
of  every  profession,  which  hath  been  likewise 
handled :  but  how  1  rather  in  a  satire  and  cyni 
cally,  than  seriously  and  wisely :  for  men  have 
rather  sought  by  wit  to  deride  and  traduce  much 
of  that  which  is  good  in  professions,  than  with 
judgment  to  discover  and  sever  that  which  is 
corrupt.  For,  as  Solomon  saith,  he  that  cometh 
to  seek  after  knowledge  with  a  mind  to  scorn  and 
censure,  shall  be  sure  to  find  matter  for  his  hu 
mour,  but  no  matter  for  his  instruction :  "  Quae- 
renti  derisori  scientiam  ipsa  se  abscondit;  sed 
studioso  fit  obviam."  But  the  managing  of  this 
argument  with  integrity  and  truth,  which  I  note 
as  deficient,  seemeth  to  me  to  be  one  of  the  best 
fortifications  for  honesty  and  virtue  that  can  be 
planted.  For,  as  the  fable  goeth  of  the  basilisk, 
that  if  he  see  you  first,  you  die  for  it;  but  if  you 
see  him  first,  he  dieth :  so  is  it  wTith  deceits  and 
evil  arts;  which,  if  they  be  first  espied,  they 
leese  their  life;  but  if  they  prevent,  they  en 
danger.  So  that  we  are  much  beholden  to  Ma- 
chiavel  and  others,  that  write  what  men  do,  and 
not  what  they  ought  to  do.  For  it  is  not  possible 
to  join  serpentine  wisdom  with  the  columbine 
innocericy,  except  men  know  exactly  all  the 
conditions  of  the  serpent;  his  baseness  and  going 
upon  his  belly,  his  volubility  and  lubricity,  his 


envy  and  sting,  and  the  rest ;  that  is,  all  forms 
and  natures  of  evil :  for  without  this,  virtue  lieth 
open  and  unfenced.  Nay,  an  honest  man  can  do 
no  good  upon  those  that  are  wicked,  to  reclaim 
them,  without  the  help  of  the  knowledge  of  evil. 
For  men  of  corrupted  minds  presuppose  that  ho 
nesty  groweth  out  of  simplicity  of  manners,  and 
believing  of  preachers,  schoolmasters,  and  men's 
exterior  language :  so  as,  except  you  can  make 
them  perceive  that  you  know  the  utmost  reaches 
of  their  own  corrupt  opinions,  they  despise  all 
morality;  "Non  recipit  stultus  verba  prudentiae, 
nisi  ea  dexeris  quas  versantur  in  corde  ejus." 

Unto  this  part,  touching  respective  duty,  doth 
also  appertain  the  duties  between  husband  and 
wife,  parent  and  child,  master  and  servant:  so 
likewise  the  laws  of  friendship  arid  gratitude,  the 
civil  bond  of  companies,  colleges,  and  politic  bo 
dies,  of  neighbourhood,  and  all  other  proportion 
ate  duties ;  not  as  they  are  parts  of  government 
and  society,  but  as  to  the  framing  of  the  mind  of 
particular  persons. 

The  knowledge  concerning  good  respecting  so 
ciety  doth  handle  it  also,  not  simply  alone,  but 
comparatively;  whereunto  belongeth  the  weigh 
ing  of  duties  between  person  and  person,  case 
and  case,  particular  and  public  :  as  we  see  in  the 
proceeding  of  Lucius  Brutus  against  his  own 
sons,  which  was  so  much  extolled ;  yet  what  was 
said? 

'  "  Infelix,  utcumque  ferent  ea  fata  minores." 

So  the  case  was  doubtful,  and  had  opinion  on 
both  sides.  Again,  wre  see  when  M.  Brutus  and 
Cassius  invited  to  a  supper  certain  whose  opi 
nions  they  meant  to  feel,  whether  they  were  fit  to 
be  made  their  associates,  and  cast  forth  the  ques 
tion  touching  the  killing  of  a  tyrant  being  an 
usurper,  they  were  divided  in  opinion ;  some  hold 
ing  that  servitude  was  the  extreme  of  evils,  and 
others  that  tyranny  was  better  than  a  civil  war : 
and  a  number  of  the  like  cases  there  are  of  com 
parative  duty ;  amongst  which  that  of  all  others 
is  the  most  frequent,  where  the  question  is  of  a 
great  deal  of  good  to  ensue  of  a  small  injustice, 
which  Jason  of  Thessalia  determined  against  the 
truth :  "  Aliqua  sunt  injuste  facienda,  ut  multa 
juste  fieri  possint."  But  the  reply  is  good,  "Auc- 
torem  proesentis  justitiae  habes,  sponsorem  futurae 
non  habes."  Men  must  pursue  things  which  are 
just  in  present,  and  leave  the  future  to  the  divine 
Providence.  So  then  we  pass  on  from  this  general 
part  touching  the  exemplar  and  description  of  good. 

Now  therefore  that  we  have  spoken  of  this  fruit 
of  life,  it  remaineth  to  speak  of  the  husbandry 
that  belongeth  thereunto  ;  without  which  part  the 
former  seemeth  to  be  no  better  than  a  fair  image, 
or  statua,  which  is  beautiful  to  contemplate,  but  is 
without  life  or  motion  :  whereunto  Aristotle  him 
self  subscribeth  in  these  words:  "Necesse  est 
scilicet  de  virtute  dicere,  et  quid  sit,  etex  quibus 
gignatur.  Inutile  enim  fere  fuerit  virtutem  qui- 


224 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


dem  nosse,  acquirendaa  autera  ejus  modos  et  vias 
ignorare  :  non  enim  de  virtute  tantum,  qua  specie 
sit,  quaerendum  est,  sed  et  quomodo  sui  copiam 
faciat ;  utrumque  enim  volumus,  et  rem  ipsam 
nosse,  et  ejus  compotes  fieri ;  hoc  autem  ex  voto 
non  succedet,  nisi  sciamus  et  ex  quibus  et  quomo 
do."  In  such  full  words  and  with  such  iteration 
doth  he  inculcate  this  part.  So  saith  Cicero  in 
great  commendation  of  Cato  the  Second,  that  he 
had  applied  himself  to  philosophy,  "  non  ita  dis- 
putandi  causa,  sed  ita  vivendi."  And  although 
the  neglect  of  our  times,  wherein  few  men  do  hold 
any  consultations  touching  the  reformation  of 
their  life,  (as  Seneca  excellently  saith,)  "  De  par- 
tibus  vitse  quisque  deliberat,  de  summa  nemo," 
may  make  this  part  seem  superfluous  ;  yet  I  must 
conclude  with  that  aphorism  of  Hippocrates,  "  Qui 
gravi  morbo  correpti  dolores  non  sentiunt,  iis  mens 
aegrotat;"  they  need  medicine,  not  only  to  assauge 
the  disease,  but  to  awake  the  sense.  And  if  it  be 
said,  that  the  cure  of  men's  minds  belongeth  to 
sacred  divinity,  it  is  most  true  :  but  yet  moral 
philosophy  may  be  preferred  unto  her  as  a  wise 
servant  and  humble  handmaid.  For  as  the  psalm 
saith,  that  the  eyes  of  the  handmaid  look  per 
petually  towards  the  mistress,  and  yet  no  doubt 
many  things  are  left  to  the  discretion  of  the  hand 
maid,  to  discern  of  the  mistress's  will ;  so  ought 
moral  philosophy  to  give  a  constant  attention  to 
the  doctrines  of  divinity,  and  yet  so  as  it  may 
yield  of  herself,  within  due  limits,  many  sound 
and  profitable  directions. 

This  part  therefore,  because  of  the  excellency 
thereof,  I  cannot  but  find  exceeding  strange  that 
it  is  not  reduced  to  written  inquiry :  the  rather, 
because  it  consisteth  of  much  matter,  wherein 
both  speech  and  action  is  often  conversant ;  and 
such  wherein  the  common  talk  of  men,  (which  is 
rare,  but  yet  cometh  sometimes  to  pass,)  is  wiser 
than  their  books.  It  is  reasonable  therefore  that 
we  propound  it  in  the  more  particularity,  both  for 
the  worthiness,  and  because  we  may  acquit  our 
selves  for  reporting  it  deficient,  which  seemeth 
almost  incredible,  and  is  otherwise  conceived  and 
presupposed  by  those  themselves  that  have  writ 
ten.  We  will  therefore  enumerate  some  heads  or 
points  thereof,  that  it  may  appear  the  better  what 
it  is,  and  whether  it  be  extant. 

First,  therefore,  in  this,  as  in  all  things  which 
are  practical,  we  ought  to  cast  up  our  account, 
what  is  in  our  power,  and  what  not ;  for  the  one 
may  be  dealt  with  by  way  of  alteration,  but 
the  other  by  way  of  application  only.  The  hus 
bandman  cannot  command,  neither  the  nature 
of  the  earth,  nor  the  seasons  of  the  weather;  no 
more  can  the  physician  the  constitution  of  the  pa 
tient,  nor  the  variety  of  the  accidents  ;  so  in  the 
culture  and  cure  of  the  mind  of  man,  two  things 
are  without  our  command  ;  points  of  nature,  and 
points  of  fortune :  for  to  the  basis  of  the  one,  and  the 
condition  of  the  other  our  work  is  limited  and  tied. 


In  these  things,  therefore,  it  is  left  unto  us  to  pro 
ceed  by  application. 

"  Vincenda  est  oranis  fortuna  ferendo  ;" 

and  so  likewise, 

"Vincenda  est  omnis  natura  ferendo." 
But  when  that  we  speak  of  suffering,  we  do  not 
speak  of  a  dull  and  neglected  suffering,  but  of  a 
wise  and  industrious  suffering,  which  draweth 
and  contriveth  use  and  advantage  out  of  that  which 
seemeth  adverse  and  contrary  ;  which  is  that  pro 
perly  which  we  call  accommodating  or  applying. 
Now  the  wisdom  of  application  resteth  principally 
in  the  exact  and  distinct  knowledge  of  the  prece 
dent  state  or  disposition,  unto  which  we  do  apply  : 
for  we  cannot  fit  a  garment,  except  we  first  take 
measure  of  the  body. 

So  then  the  first  article  of  this  knowledge  is. 
to  set  down  sound  and  true  distributions  and  de 
scriptions  of  the  several  characters  and  tempers  of 
men's  natures  and  dispositions  ;  especially  having 
regard  to  those  differences  which  are  most  radical, 
in  being  the  fountains  and  causes  of  the  rest,  or 
most  frequent  in  concurrence  or  commixture ; 
wherein  it  is  not  the  handling  of  a  few  of  them  in 
passage,  the  better  to  describe  the  mediocrities  of 
virtues,  that  can  satisfy  this  intention.  For  if  it 
deserve  to  be  considered,  "  That  there  are  minds 
which  are  proportioned  to  great  matters,  and  others 
to  small,"  (which  Aristotle  handleth,  or  ought  to 
have  handled,  by  the  name  of  magnanimity;) 
doth  it  not  deserve  as  well  to  be  considered, 
"  That  there  are  minds  proportioned  to  intend 
many  matters,  and  others  to  few  ?"  So  that  some 
can  divide  themselves  ;  others  can  perchance  do 
exactly  well,  but  it  must  be  but  in  few  things  at 
once  :  and  so  there  cometh  to  be  a  narrowness  of 
mind,  as  well  as  pusillanimity.  And  again, 
"  That  some  minds  are  proportioned  to  that  which 
may  be  despatched  at  once,  or  within  a  short  re 
turn  of  time ;  others  to  that  which  begins  a  far  off 
and  is  to  be  won  with  length  of  pursuit ;" 

"Jam  turn  tenditque  fovetque." 

So  that  there  may  be  fitly  said  to  be  a  longani 
mity,  which  is  commonly  also  ascribed  to  God  as 
a  magnanimity.  So  further  deserved  it  to  be  con 
sidered  by  Aristotle  ;  "  that  there  is  a  disposition 
in  conversation,  (supposing  it  in  things  which  do 
in  no  sort  touch  or  concern  a  man's  self,)  to  soothe 
and  please ;  and  a  disposition  contrary  to  contradict 
and  cross :"  and  deserveth  it  not  much  better  to 
be  considered,  "  that  there  is  a  disposition,  not  in 
conversation  or  talk,  but  in  matter  of  more  serious 
nature,  (and  supposing  it  still  in  things  merely 
indifferent,)  to  take  pleasure  in  the  good  of 
another ;  and  a  disposition  contrariwise,  to  take 
distaste  at  the  good  of  another  ?  which  is  that 
properly  which  we  call  good-nature  or  ill-nature, 
benignity  or  malignity  :  and  therefore  I  cannot 
sufficiently  marvel  that  this  part  of  knowledge, 
touching  the  several  characters  of  natures  and 
dispositions,  should  be  omitted  both  in  morality 


8ooit  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


225 


«nd  policy ;  considering  it  is  of  so  great  ministry 
and  suppeditation  to  them  both.  A  man  shall 
find  in  the  traditions  of  astrology  some  pretty 
and  apt  divisions  of  men's  natures,  according  to 
the  predominances  of  the  planets;  lovers  of  quiet, 
lovers  of  action,  lovers  of  victory,  lovers  of 
honour,  lovers  of  pleasure,  lovers  of  arts,  lovers 
of  change,  and  so  forth.  A  man  shall  find  in  the 
wisest  sort  of  these  relations  which  the  Italians 
make  touching  conclaves,  the  natures  of  the  se 
veral  cardinals  handsomely  and  livelily  painted 
forth :  a  man  shall  meet  with,  in  every  day's  con 
ference,  the  denominations  of  sensitive,  dry,  for 
mal,  real,  humorous,  certain,  "  huomo  di  prima 
impressione,  huomo  di  ultima  impressione,"  and 
the  like  :  and  yet  nevertheless  this  kind  of  obser 
vations  wandereth  in  words,  but  is  not  fixed  in 
inquiry.  For  the  distinctions  are  found,  many 
of  them,  but  we  conclude  no  precepts  upon  them  : 
wherein  our  fault  is  the  greater :  because  both 
history,  poesy,  and  daily  experience  are  as  goodly 
fields  where  these  observations  grow;  whereof 
we  make  a  few  posies  to  hold  in  our  hands,  but 
no  man  bringeth  them  to  the  confectionary,  that 
receipts  might  be  made  of  them  for  the  use  of 
life. 

Of  much  like  kind  are  those  impressions  of 
nature,  which  are  imposed  upon  the  mind  by  the 
sex,  by  the  age,  by  the  region,  by  health  and 
sickness,  by  beauty  and  deformity,  and  the  like, 
which  are  inherent  and  not  external ;  and  again, 
those  which  are  caused  by  external  fortune ;  as 
sovereignty,  nobility,  obscure  birth,  riches,  want, 
magistracy,  privateness,  prosperity,  adversity, 
constant  fortune,  variable  fortune,  rising  "per 
saltum,"  "  per  gradus,"  and  the  like.  And  there 
fore  we  see  that  Plautus  maketh  it  a  wonder  to 
see  an  old  man  beneficent,  "benignitas  hujus  ut 
adolescentuli  est."  St.  Paul  concludeth,  that 
severity  of  discipline  was  to  be  used  to  the  Cre 
tans,  "Increpa  eos  dure,"  upon  the  disposition 
of  their  country,  "  Cretenses  semper  mendaces, 
malee  bestiae,  ventres  pigri."  Sallust  noteth,  that 
it  is  usual  with  kings  to  desire  contradictories : 
**  Sed  plerumque  regiae  voluntates,  ut  vehementes 
sunt,  sic  mobiles,  saepeque  ipsae  sibi  adversae." 
Tacitus  observeth  how  rarely  raising  of  the  for 
tune  mendeth  the  disposition :  "  Solus  Vespa- 
sianus  mutatus  in  melius."  Pindarus  maketh  an 
observation,  that  great  and  sudden  fortune  for  the 
most  part  defeateth  men, "  Qui  magnam  felicitatem 
concoquere  non  possunt."  So  the  Psalm  showeth 
it  is  more  easy  to  keep  a  measure  in  the  enjoying 
of  fortune,  than  in  the  increase  of  fortune :  "  Di- 
vitiae  si  affluant,  nolite  cor  apponere."  These 
observations,  and  the  like,  I  deny  not  but  are 
touched  a  little  by  Aristotle,  as  in  passage,  in  his 
Rhetorics,  and  are  handled  in  some  scattered  dis 
courses :  but  they  were  never  incorporated  into 
moral  philosophy,  to  which  they  do  essentially 
appertain ;  as  the  knowledge  of  the  diversity  of 

VOL.  I — 29 


grounds  and  moulds  doth  to  agriculture,  and  the 
knowledge  of  the  diversity  of  complexions  and 
constitutions  doth  to  the  physician;  except  we 
mean  to  follow  the  indiscretion  of  empirics, 
which  minister  the  same  medicines  to  all  patients. 

Another  article  of  this  knowledge  is  the  inquiry 
touching  the  affections ;  for  as  in  medicining  of 
the  body,  it  is  in  order  first  to  know  the  divers 
complexions  and  constitutions;  secondly,  the 
diseases ;  and  lastly,  the  cures  :  so  in  medicining 
of  the  mind,  after  knowledge  of  the  divers  char 
acters  of  men's  natures,  it  followeth,  in  order,  to 
know  the  diseases  and  infirmities  of  the  mind, 
which  are  no  other  than  the  perturbations  and  dis 
tempers  of  the  affections.  For  as  the  ancient  poli 
ticians  in  popular  states  were  wont  to  compare  the 
people  to  the  sea,  and  the  orators  to  the  winds;  be 
cause  as  the  sea  would  of  itself  be  calm  and  quiet, 
if  the  winds  did  not  move  and  trouble  it ;  so  the 
people  would  be  peaceable  and  tractable,  if  the 
seditious  orators  did  not  set  them  in  working  and 
agitation :  so  it  may  be  fitly  said,  that  the  mind 
in  the  nature  thereof  would  be  temperate  and 
stayed,  if  the  affections,  as  winds,  did  not  put  it 
into  tumult  and  perturbation.  And  here  again  I 
find  strange,  as  before,  that  Aristotle  should  have 
written  divers  volumes  of  Ethics,  and  never 
handled  the  affections,  which  is  the  principal 
subject  thereof;  and  yet,  in  his  Rhetorics,  where 
they  are  considered  but  collaterally,  and  in  a  se 
cond  degree,  as  they  may  be  moved  by  speech, 
he  findeth  place  for  them,  and  handleth  them 
well  for  the  quantity ;  but  where  their  true  place 
is,  he  pretermitteth  them.  For  it  is  not  his  dis 
putations  about  pleasure  and  pain  that  can  satisfy 
this  inquiry,  no  more  than  he  that  should  gene 
rally  handle  the  nature  of  light,  can  be  said  to 
handle  the  nature  of  colours ;  for  pleasure  and 
pain  are  to  the  particular  affections  as  light  is  to 
particular  colours.  Better  travails,  I  suppose, 
had  the  Stoics  taken  in  this  argument,  as  far  as  I 
can  gather  by  that  which  we  have  at  second  hand. 
But  yet,  it  is  like,  it  was  after  their  manner 
rather  in  subtilty  of  definitions,  (which  in  a  sub 
ject  of  this  nature  are  but  curiosities,)  than  in 
active  and  ample  descriptions  and  observations. 
So  likewise  I  find  some  particular  writings  of  an 
elegant  nature,  touching  some  of  the  affections  ; 
as  of  anger,  of  comfort  upon  adverse  accidents, 
of  tenderness  of  countenance,  and  other. 

But  the  poets  and  writers  of  histories  are  tho 
best  doctors  of  this  knowledge:  where  we  may 
find  painted  forth  with  great  life,  how  affections 
are  kindled  and  incited  ;  and  how  pacified  and 
refrained  ;  and  how  again  contained  from  act  and 
further  degree;  how  they  disclose  themselves: 
how  they  work ;  how  they  vary  ;  how  they  gather 
and  fortify;  how  they  are  imvrapped  one  within 
another;  and  how  they  do  fight  and  encounter  one 
with  another ;  and  other  the  like  particularities: 
amongst  the  which  this  last  is  of  special  U>P  in 


226 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


moral  and  civil  matters ;  how,  I  say,  to  set  affec 
tion  against  affection,  and  to  master  one  by 
another ;  even  as  we  use  to  hunt  beast  with  beast, 
and  fly  bird  with  bird,  which  otherwise  perhaps 
we  could  not  so  easily  recover :  upon  which  foun 
dation  is  erected  that  excellent  use  of  "  premium" 
and  " poena,"  whereby  civil  states  consist;  em 
ploying  the  predominant  affections  of  fear  and 
hope,  for  the  suppressing  and  bridling  the  rest. 
For  as  in  the  government  of  states  it  is  some 
times  necessary  to  bridle  one  faction  with  another, 
so  i*  is  in  the  government  within. 

Now  ^ome  we  to  those  points  wrhich  are  within 
our  own  command,  and  have  force  and  operation 
upon  the  mind,  to  affect  the  will  and  appetite,  and 
to  alter  manners :  wherein  they  ought  to  have 
handled  custom,  exercise,  habit,  education,  exam 
ple,  imitation,  emulation,  company,  friends,  praise, 
reproof,  exhortation,  fame,  laws,  books,  studies : 
these  as  they  have  determinate  use  in  moralities, 
from  these  the  mind  suffereth ;  and  of  these  are 
such  receipts  and  regimens  compounded  and  de 
scribed,  as  may  seem  to  recover  or  preserve  the 
health  and  good  estate  of  the  mind,  as  far  as  per- 
taineth  to  human  medicine  :  of  which  number  we 
will  insist  upon  some  one  or  two,  as  an  example 
of  the  rest,  because  it  were  too  long  to  prosecute 
all ;  and  therefore  we  do  resume  custom  and  ha 
bit  to  speak  of. 

The  opinion  of  Aristotle  seemeth  to  me  a  negli 
gent  opinion,  that  of  those  things  which  consist 
by  nature,  nothing  can  be  changed  by  custom ; 
using  for  example,  that  if  a  stone  be  thrown  ten 
thousand  times  up,  it  will  not  learn  to  ascend ; 
and  that  by  often  seeing  or  hearing,  we  do  not 
learn  to  see  or  hear  the  better.  For  though  this 
principle  be  true  in  things  wherein  nature  is  pe 
remptory,  (the  reason  whereof  we  cannot  now  stand 
to  discuss,)  yet  it  is  otherwise  in  things  wherein 
nature  admitteth  a  latitude.  For  he  might  see 
that  a  strait  glove  will  come  more  easily  on  with 
use ;  and  that  a  wand  will  by  use  bend  otherwise 
than  it  grew ;  and  that  by  use  of  the  voice  we 
speak  louder  and  stronger;  and  that  by  use  of 
enduring  heat  and  cold,  we  endure  it  the  better, 
and  the  like:  which  latter  sort  have  a  nearer 
resemblance  unto  that  subject  of  manners  he 
handleth,  than  those  instances  which  he  allegeth. 
But  allowing  his  conclusion,  that  virtues  and 
vices  consist  in  habit,  he  ought  so  much  the  more 
to  have  taught  the  manner  of  superinducing  that 
habit:  for  there  be  many  precepts  of  the  wise  or 
dering  the  exercises  of  the  mind,  as  there  is  of 
urdering  the  exercises  of  the  body ;  whereof  we 
will  recite  a  few. 

The  first  shall  be,  that  we  beware  we  take  not 
at  the  first  either  too  high  a  strain,  or  too  weak : 
for  if  too  high,  in  a  diffident  nature  you  discou 
rage  ;  in  a  confident  nature  you  breed  an  opinion 
of  facility,  and  so  a  sloth ;  and  in  all  natures  you 
breed  a  further  expectation  than  can  hold  out,  and 


so  an  insatisfaction  on  the  end :  if  too  weak,  of 
the  other  side,  you  may  not  look  to  perform  and 
overcome  any  great  task. 

Another  precept  is,  to  practise  all  things  chiefly 
at  two  several  times,  the  one  when  the  mind  is 
best  disposed,  the  other  when  it  is  worst  disposed ; 
that  by  the  one  you  may  gain  a  great  step,  by  the 
other  you  may  work  out  the  knots  and  stonds  of 
the  mind,  and  make  the  middle  times  the  more 
easy  and  pleasant. 

Another  precept  is  that  which  Aristotle  men- 
tioneth  by  the  way,  which  is,  to  bear  ever  towards 
the  contrary  extreme  of  that  whereunto  we  are  by 
nature  inclined  :  like  unto  the  rowing  against  the 
stream,  or  making  a  wand  straight  by  bending 
him  contrary  to  his  natural  crookedness. 

Another  precept  is,  that  the  mind  is  brought  to 
any  thing  better,  and  with  more  sweetness  and 
happiness,  if  that  whereunto  you  pretend  be  not 
first  in  the  intention,  but  "  tanquam  aliud  agendo," 
because  of  the  natural  hatred  of  the  mind  against 
necessity  and  constraint.  Many  other  axioms 
there  are  touching  the  managing  of  exercise  and 
custom ;  which,  being  so  conducted,  doth  prove  in 
deed  another  nature ;  but  being  governed  by  change, 
doth  commonly  prove  but  an  ape  of  nature,  and 
bringeth  forth  that  which  is  lame  and  counterfeit. 

So  if  we  should  handle  books  and  studies,  and 
what  influence  and  operation  they  have  upon 
manners,  are  there  not  divers  precepts  of  great 
caution  and  direction  appertaining  thereunto? 
Did  not  one  of  the  fathers  in  great  indignation 
call  poesy  "  vinum  deemonum,"  because  it  in- 
creaseth  temptations,  perturbations,  and  vain  opi 
nions  1  Is  not  the  opinion  of  Aristotle  worthy  to 
be  regarded,  wherein  he  saith,  "That  young  men 
are  no  fit  auditors  of  moral  philosophy,  because 
they  are  not  settled  from  the  boiling  heat  of  their 
affections,  nor  attempered  with  time  and  expe 
rience1?"  And  doth  it  not  thereof  come,  that 
those  excellent  books  and  discourses  of  the  an 
cient  writers,  (whereby  they  have  persuaded  unto 
virtue  most  effectually,  by  representing  her  in 
state  and  majesty,  and  popular  opinions  against 
virtue  in  their  parasites'  coats,  fit  to  be  scorned 
and  derided,)  are  of  so  little  effect  towards  ho 
nesty  of  life,  because  they  are  not  read  and  re 
volved  by  men  in  their  mature  and  settled  years, 
but  confined  almost  to  boys  and  beginners  1  But 
is  it  not  true  also,  that  much  less  young  men  are 
fit  auditors  of  matters  of  policy,  till  they  have 
been  throroughly  seasoned  in  religion  and  mo 
rality;  lest  their  judgments  be  corrupted,  and 
made  apt  to  think  that  there  are  no  true  differ 
ences  of  things,  but  according  to  utility  and  for 
tune,  as  the  verse  describes  it, 

"  Prosperum  et  felix  scelus  virtus  vocatur : 

and  again, 

"Ille  crucem  pretium  sceleris  tulit,  hie  diadeira:" 
which  the  poets  do  speak  satirically,  and  in  in 
dignation  on  virtue's  behalf;  but  books  of  policy 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


227 


do  speak  it  seriously  and  positively ;  for  so  it 
pleaseth  Machiavel  to  say,  "that  if  Caesar  had 
been  overthrown,  he  would  have  been  more  odious 
than  ever  was  Catiline ;"  as  if  there  had  been  no 
difference,  but  in  fortune,  between  a  very  fury  of 
lust  and  blood,  and  the  most  excellent  spirit  (his 
ambition  reserved)  of  the  world  1  Again,  is  there 
not  a  caution  likewise  to  be  given  of  the  doctrines 
of  moralities  themselves,  (some  kinds  of  them,) 
lest  they  make  men  too  precise,  arrogant,  incom 
patible;  as  Cicero  saith  of  Cato,  "In  Marco  Ca- 
tone  haec  bona  quae  videmus  divina  et  egregia, 
ipsius  scitote  esse  propria;  quse  nonnunquam 
requirimus,  ea  sunt  omnia  non  a  natura,  sed  a 
magistro  ]"  Many  other  axioms  and  advices  there 
are  touching  those  proprieties  and  effects,  which 
studies  do  infuse  and  instil  into  manners.  And 
so  likewise  is  there  touching  the  use  of  all  those 
other  points,  of  company,  fame,  laws,  and  the 
rest,  which  we  recited  in  the  beginning  in  the 
doctrine  of  morality. 

But  there  is  a  kind  of  culture  of  the  mind  that 
seemeth  yet  more  accurate  and  elaborate  than  the 
rest,  and  is  built  upon  this  ground ;  that  the  minds 
of  all  men  are  at  some  times  in  a  state  more  per 
fect,  and  at  other  times  in  a  state  more  depraved. 
The  purpose  therefore  of  this  practice  is,  to  fix 
and  cherish  the  good  hours  of  the  mind,  and  to 
obliterate  and  take  forth  the  evil.  The  fixing  of 
the  good  hath  been  practised  by  two  means,  vows 
or  constant  resolutions,  and  observances  or  exer 
cises  ;  which  are  not  to  be  regarded  so  much  in 
themselves,  as  because  they  keep  the  mind  in 
continual  obedience.  The  obliteration  of  the  evil 
hath  been  practised  by  two  means,  some  kind  of 
redemption  or  expiation  of  that  which  is  past,  and 
an  inception  or  account  "de  novo,"  for  the  time 
to  come.  But  this  part  seemeth  sacred  and  reli 
gious,  and  justly;  for  all  good  moral  philosophy, 
as  was  said,  is  but  a  handmaid  to  religion. 

Wherefore  we  will  conclude  with  that  last  point 
which  is  of  all  other  means  the  most  compendi 
ous  and  summary,  and  again,  the  most  noble  and 
effectual  to  the  reducing  of  the  mind  unto  virtue 
and  good  estate  ;  which  is,  the  electing  and  pro 
pounding  unto  a  man's  self  good  and  virtuous 
ends  of  his  life,  such  as  may  be  in  a  reasonable 
sort  within  his  compass  to  attain.  For  if  these 
two  things  be  supposed,  that  a  man  set  before  him 
honest  and  good  ends,  and  again,  that  he  be  reso 
lute,  constant,  and  true  unto  them ;  it  will  follow 
that  he  shall  mould  himself  into  all  virtue  at  once. 
And  this  indeed  is  like  the  work  of  nature ;  where 
as  the  other  course  is  like  the  work  of  the  hand. 
For  as  when  a  carver  makes  an  image,  he  shapes 
only  that  part  whereupon  he  worketh,  (as  if  he 
be  upon  the  face,  that  part  which  shall  be  the 
body  is  but  a  rude  stone  still,  till  such  time  as  he 
comes  to  it;)  but,  contrariwise,  when  nature 
makes  a  flower  or  living  creature,  she  formeth  ru 
diments  of  all  the  parts  at  one  time:  so  in  obtain 


ing  virtue  by  habit,  while  a  man  practiseth  tem 
perance,  he  doth  not  profit  much  to  fortitude,  nor 
the  like;  but  when  he  dedicateth  and  applieth 
himself  to  good  ends,  look,  what  virtue  soever 
the  pursuit  and  passage  towards  those  ends  doth 
commend  unto  him,  he  is  invested  of  a  precedent 
disposition  to  conform  himself  thereunto.  Which 
state  of  mind  Aristotle  doth  excellently  express 
himself,  that  it  ought  not  to  be  called  virtuous, 
but  divine :  his  words  are  these :  "  Immanitati 
autem  consentaneum  cst  opponere  earn,  quee  supra 
humanitatem  est,  heroicam  sive  divinam  virtu- 
tern:"  and  a  little  after,  "Nam  ut  ferae  neque 
vitium  neque  virtus  est,  sic  neque  Dei :  sed  hie 
quidem  status  altius  quiddam  virtute  est,  ille  aliud 
quiddam  a  vitio."  And  therefore  we  may  see 
what  celsitude  of  honour  Plinius  Secundus  attri- 
buteth  to  Trajan  in  his  funeral  oration ;  where  he 
said,  "  that  men  needeth  to  make  no  other  prayers 
to  the  gods,  but  that  they  would  continue  as  gocd 
lords  to  them  as  Trajan  had  been;"  as  if  he  had 
not  been  an  imitation  of  divine  nature,  but  a  pat 
tern  of  it.  But  these  be  heathen  and  profane 
passages,  having  but  a  shadow  of  that  divine  state 
of  mind,  which  religion  and  the  holy  faith  doth 
conduct  men  unto,  by  imprinting  upon  their  souls 
charity,  which  is  excellently  called  the  bond  of 
perfection,  because  it  comprehendeth  and  fasteneth 
all  virtues  together.  And  it  is  elegantly  said  by 
Menander  of  vain  love,  which  is  but  a  false  imi 
tation  of  divine  love,  "Amor  melior  sophista 
Isevo  ad  humanam  vitam,"  that  love  teacheth  a 
man  to  carry  himself  better  than  the  sophist  or 
preceptor;  M-hich  he  calleth  left-handed,  because, 
with  all  his  rules  and  precepts,  he  cannot  form  a 
man  so  dexterously,  nor  with  that  facility  to  prize 
himself  and  govern  himself,  as  love  can  do :  so 
certainly,  if  a  man's  mind  be  truly  inflamed  with 
charity,  it  doth  work  him  suddenly  into  greater 
perfection  than  all  the  doctrine  of  morality  can  do, 
which  is  but  a  sophist  in  comparison  of  the  other. 
Nay  further,  as  Xenophon  observed  truly,  that  all 
other  affections,  though  they  raise  the  mind,  yet 
they  do  it  by  distorting  and  uncomeliness  of  ec 
stasies  or  excesses  ;  but  only  love  doth  exalt  the 
mind,  and  nevertheless  at  the  same  instant  doth 
settle  and  compose  it:  so  in  all  other  excellencies, 
though  they  advance  nature,  yet  they  are  subject 
to  excess ;  only  charity  admitteth  no  excess.  For 
so  we  see,  aspiring  to  be  like  God  in  power,  the 
angels  transgressed  and  fell ;  "  Ascendam,  et  ero 
similis  Altissimo:"  by  aspiring  to  be  like  God 
in  knowledge, man  transgressed  and  fell;  "  Eritis 
sicut  Dii,  scientes  bonum  et  malum  :"  but  by  as 
piring  to  a  similitude  of  God  in  goodness  or  love, 
neither  man  nor  angel  ever  transgressed,  or  shall 
transgress.  For  unto  that  imitation  we  are  called  : 
"Diligite  inimicos  vestros,  benefacite  eis  qui  ode- 
runt  vos,  et  orate  pro  persequentibus  et  calumni 
antibus  vos,  ut  sitis  filii  Patris  vestri  qui  in  ccelis 
est,  qui  solem  suum  oriri  facit  super  bonos  et  malos, 


228 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II, 


et  pluit  super  justos  et  injustos."  So  in  the  first i  you  could  get  but  some  few  to  go  right,  the  rest 
platform  of  the  divine  nature  itself,  the  heathen  would  follow :"  so  in  that  respect  moral  philoso- 
religion  speaketh  thus,  "  Optimus  Maximus  :"  !  phy  is  more  difficile  than  policy.  Again,  moral 
and  the  sacred  Scriptures  thus,  "  Misericordia  ejus  !  philosophy  propoundeth  to  itself  the  framing  of 
super  omnia  opera  ejus."  I  internal  goodness ;  but  civil  knowledge  requireth 

Wherefore  I  do  conclude  this  part  of  moral  only  an  external  goodness ;  for  that  as  to  society 
knowledge,  concerning  the  culture  and  regimen  |  sufficeth.  And  therefore  it  cometh  oft  to  pass  that 
of  the  mind ;  wherein  if  any  man,  considering  !  there  be  evil  times  in  good  governments :  for  so 
the  parts  thereof  which  I  have  enumerated,  do  |  we  find  in  the  holy  story,  when  the  kings  were 
judge  that  my  labour  is  but  to  collect  into  an  art  |  good,  yet  it  is  added,  "  Sed  adhuc  populus  non 
or  science  that  which  hath  been  pretermitted  by  I  direxerat  cor  suum  ad  Dominum  Deum  patrum 
others,  as  matter  of  common  sense  and  experience,  suorum."  Again,  states,  as  great  engines,  move 


he  judgeth  well.  But  as  Philocrates  sported  with 
Demosthenes,  "  You  may  not  marvel,  Athenians, 
that  Demosthenes  and  I  do  differ;  for  hedrinketh 
water,  and  I  drink  wine ;"  and  like  as  we  read 
of  an  ancient  parable  of  the  two  gates  of  sleep, 

"  Stint  geminse  soinni  portfc  :  quarum  altera  fertur 
Cornea,  qua  veris  tacilis  datur  exitns  umbris  : 
Altera  candenti  perfecta  nitens  elephanto, 
Sed  falsa  ad  coelum  mittunt  insomnia  manes:" 

so  if  we  put  on  sobriety  and  attention,  we  shall 
find  it  a  sure  maxim  in  knowledge,  that  the  more 


slowly,  and  are  not  so  soon  put  out  of  frame :  for 
as  in  Egypt  the  seven  good  years  sustained  the 
seven  bad,  so  governments,  for  a  time  wrell 
grounded,  do  bear  out  errors  following :  but  the 
resolution  of  particular  persons  is  more  suddenly 
subverted.  These  respects  do  somewhat  qualify 
the  extreme  difficulty  of  civil  knowledge. 

This  knowledge  hath  three  parts,  according  to 
the  three  summary  actions  of  society  ;  which  are 
Conversation,  Negotiation,  and  Government.  For 
man  seeketh  in  society  comfort,  use,  and  protec- 


pleasant  liquor  of  wine  is  the  more  vaporous,  and  tion  :  and  they  be  three  wisdoms  of  divers  na- 
the  braver  gate  of  ivory  sendeth  forth  the  falser  tures,  which  do  often  sever;  wisdom  of  the  beha- 
drearns.  viour,  wisdom  of  business,  and  wisdom  of  state. 

But  we  have  now  concluded  that  general  part  j      The  wisdom  of  Conversation  ought  not  to  be 
of  human  philosophy,  which  contemplateth  man    over  much  affected,  but  much  less  despised;  for 


segregate,  and  as  he  consisteth  of  body  and  spirit. 
Wherein  we  may  further  note,  that  there  seemeth 
to  be  a  relation  or  conformity  between  the  good 
of  the  mind  and  the  good  of  the  body.  For 
as  we  divided  the  good  of  the  body  into  health, 
beauty,  strength,  and  pleasure ;  so  the  good  of  the 
mind,  inquired  in  rational  and  moral  knowledges, 
tendeth  to  this,  to  make  the  mind  sound,  and 
without  perturbation ;  beautiful,  and  graced  with 
decency;  and  strong  and  agile  for  all  duties  of 
life.  These  three,  as  in  the  body,  so  in  the  mind, 
seldom  meet,  and  commonly  sever.  For  it  is  easy 
to  observe,  that  many  have  strength  of  wit  and 


it  hath  not  only  an  honour  irt  itself,  but  an  influ 
ence  also  into  business  and  government.  Th? 
poet  saith, 

"  Nee  vulta  destrne  verha  tuo  :" 

a  man  may  destroy  the  force  of  his  words  with  his 
countenance:  so  may  he  of  his  deeds,  saith  Ci 
cero,  recommending  to  his  brother  affability  and 
easy  access;  "Nil  interest  habere  ostium  aper- 
tum,  vultum  clausum ;"  it  is  nothing  won  to  admit 
men  with  an  open  door,  and  to  receive  them  with 
a  shut  and  reserved  countenance.  So,  we  see, 
Atticus,  before  the  first  interview  between  Caesar 
and  Cicero,  the  war  depending,  did  seriously  ad- 


courage,  but  have  neither  health  from  perturba-  |  vise  Cicero  touching  the  composing  and  ordering 
tions,  nor  any  beauty  or  decency  in  their  doings  :  I  of  his  countenance  and  gesture.  And  if  the  go- 
some  again  have  an  elegancy  and  fineness  of  car-  '  vernment  of  the  countenance  be  of  such  effect, 

much  more  is  that  of  the  speech,  and  other  car 
riage  appertaining  to  conversation ;  the  true  model 


riage,  which  have  neither  soundness  of  honesty 
nor  substance  of  sufficiency  :  and  some  again  have 


honest  and  reformed  minds,  that  can  neither  be 
come  themselves,  nor  manage  business :  and 
sometimes  two  of  them  meet,  and  rarely  all 
three.  As  for  pleasure,  we  have  likewise  deter 
mined  that  the  mind  ought  not  to  be  reduced  to 


whereof  seemeth  to  me  well  expressed  by  Livy, 
though  not  meant  for  this  purpose:  '  \e  aut 
arrogans  videar,  aut  obnoxius;  quorum  alterum 


est  alienae   libertatis 


alterum   suae :"  the 


sum  of  behaviour  is  to  retain  a  man's  own  digni- 


stupidity,  but  to  retain  pleasure;  confined  rather  i  ty,  without  intruding  upon  the  liberty  of  others, 
in  the  subject  of  it,  than  in  the  strength  and  vi-  On  the  other  side,  if  behaviour  and  outward  car- 
gour  of  it.  riage  be  intended  too  much,  first  it  may  pass  into 

affectation,   and    then    "  quid    defonnius    quam 


CIVIL  Knowledge  is  conversant  about  a  subject 
which  of  all  others  is  most  immersed  in  matter, 


scenam  in  vitam  transfcrre"  (to  act  a  man's  life1?) 
But  although  it  proceed  not  to  that  extreme,  yet 
it  consumeth  time,  and  employeth  the  mind  too 


and  hardliest  reduced  to  axiom.     Nevertheless, 

as  Cato  the  Censor  said,  "that  the  Romans  were  '  much.  And  therefore  as  we  use  to  advise  young 
like  sheep,  for  that  a  man  might  better  drive  a  j  students  from  company  keeping,  by  saying, 
tfock  of  them,  than  one  of  them ;  for  in  a  flock,  if  "  Amici  fures  temporis;"  so  certainly  the  intend 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


229 


ing-  of  the  discretion  of  behaviour  is  a  great  thief 
of  meditation.  Again,  such  as  are  accomplished 
in  that  form  of  urbanity  please  themselves  in  it, 
and  seldom  aspire  to  higher  virtue ;  whereas  those 
that  have  defect  in  it  do  seek  comeliness  by  repu 
tation  :  for  where  reputation  is,  almost  every 
thing  becometh ;  but  where  that  is  not,  it  must 
be  supplied  by  punctilios  and  compliments. 
Again,  there  is  no  greater  impediment  of  action 
than  an  over-curious  observance  of  decency,  and 
the  guide  of  decency,  which  is  time  and  season. 
For  as  Solomon  saith,  "  Qui  respicit  ad  ventos, 
non  seminat;  et  qui  respicit  ad  nubes,  non  ine- 
tet:"  a  man  must  make  his  opportunity,  as  oft  as 
find  it.  To  conclude :  behaviour  seemeth  to  me 
as  a  garment  of  the  mind,  and  to  have  the  condi 
tions  of  a  garment.  For  it  ought  to  be  made  in 
fashion ;  it  ought  not  to  be  too  curious  ;  it  ought 
to  be  shaped  so  as  to  set  forth  any  good  making 
of  the  mind,  and  hide  any  deformity ;  and  above 
all,  it  ought  not  to  be  too  strait,  or  restrained  for 
exercise  or  motion.  But  this  part  of  civil  know 
ledge  hath  been  elegantly  handled,  and  therefore 
I  cannot  report  it  for  deficient. 

The  wisdom  touching  Negotiation  or  Business 
hath  not  been  hitherto  collected  into  writing,  to 
the  great  derogation  of  learning,  and  the  professors 
of  learning.  For  from  this  root  springeth  chiefly 
that  note  or  opinion,  which  by  u*  is  expressed  in 
adage  to  this  effect,  "that  there  is  no  great  con 
currence  between  learning  and  wisdom."  For  of 
the  three  wisdoms  which  we  have  set  do\vn  to 
pertain  to  civil  life,  for  wisdom  of  behaviour,  it  is 
by  learned  men  for  the  most  part  despised,  as  an 
inferior  to  virtue,  and  an  enemy  to  meditation  ; 
for  wisdom  of  government,  they  acquit  themselves 
xvell  when  they  are  called  to  it,  but  that  happeneth 
to  few;  but  for  the  wisdom  of  business,  wherein 
man's  life  is  most  conversant,  there  be  no  books 
of  it,  except  some  few  scattered  advertisements, 
that  have  no  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  this 
subject.  For  if  books  were  written  of  this,  as  the 
other,  I  doubt  not  but  learned  men  with  mean  ex 
perience,  would  far  excel  men  of  long  experience 
without  learning,  and  outshoot  them  in  their  own 
bow. 

Neither  needeth  it  at  all  to  be  doubted,  that  this 
knowledge  should  be  so  variable  as  it  falleth  not 
under  precept;  for  it  is  much  less  infinite  than 
science  of  government,  which,  we  see,  is  laboured 
and  in  some  part  reduced.  Of  this  wisdom,  it 
seemeth  some  of  the  ancient  Romans,  in  the 
sngest  and  wisest  times,  were  professors ;  for 
Cicero  reporteth,  that  it  was  then  in  use  for  sena 
tors  that  had  name  and  opinion  for  general  wise 
men,  as  Coruncanius,  Curius,  Laelius,  and  many 
others,  to  walk  at  certain  hours  in  the  place,  and 
to  give  audience  to  those  that  would  use  their  ad 
vice  ;  and  that  the  particular  citizens  would  re 
sort  unto  them,  and  consult  with  them  of  the 
marriage  of  a  daugMor,  or  of  the  employing  of  a 


son,  or  of  a  purchase  or  bargain,  or  of  an  accusa 
tion,  and  every  other  occasion  incident  to  man's 
life.  So  as  there  is  a  wisdom  of  counsel  and 
advice  even  in  private  causes,  arising  out  of  an 
universal  insight  into  the  affairs  of  the  world ; 
which  is  used  indeed  upon  particular  causes  pro 
pounded,  but  is  gathered  by  general  observation 
of  causes  of  like  nature.  For  so  we  see  in  the 
book  which  Q.  Cicero  writeth  to  his  brother, 
"De  petitione  consulatus,"  (being  the  only  book 
of  business,  that  I  know,  written  by  the  ancients,) 
although  it  concerned  a  particular  action  then  on 
foot,  yet  the  substance  thereof  consisteth  of  many 
wise  and  politic  axioms,  which  contain  not  a 
temporary,  but  a  perpetual  direction  in  the  case 
of  popular  elections.  But  chiefly  we  may  see  in 
those  aphorisms  which  have  place  among  divine 
writings,  composed  by  Solomon  the  king,  (of 
whom  the  Scriptures  testify  that  his  heart  was  as 
the  sands  of  the  sea,  encompassing  the  world 
and  all  worldly  matters,)  we  see,  I  say,  not  a 
few  profound  and  excellent  cautions,  precepts, 
positions,  extending  to  much  variety  of  occasions; 
whereupon  we  will  stay  awhile,  offering  to  con 
sideration  some  number  of  examples. 

"  Sed  et  cunctis  sermonibus  qui  dicuntur  ne 
accommodes  aurem  tuam,  ne  forte  audias  servum 
tuum  maledicentum  tibi."  Here  is  concluded  the 
provident  stay  of  inquiry  of  that  which  we  would 
be  loath  to  find  :  as  it  was  judged  great  wisdom 
in  Pompeius  Magnus  that  he  burned  Sertorius's 
papers  unperused. 

"  Vir  sapiens,  si  cum  stulto  contenderit,  sive 
irascatur,  sive  rideat,  non  inveniet  requiem." 
Here  is  described  the  great  disadvantage  which  a 
wise  man  hath  in  undertaking  a  lighter  person 
than  himself;  which  is  such  an  engagement  as, 
whether  a  man  turn  the  matter  to  jest,  or  turn  it  to 
heat,  or  howsoever  he  change  copy,  he  can  no 
ways  quit  himself  well  of  it. 

"  Qui  delicate  a  pueritia  nutrit  servum  suum, 
postea  sentiet  eum  contumacem."  Here  is  signi 
fied,  that  if  a  man  begin  too  high  a  pitch  in  his 
favours,  it  doth  commonly  end  in  unkind  ness  and 
unthankfulness. 

"  Vidisti  virum  velocem  in  opere  suo?  coram 
regibus  stabit,  nee  erit  inter  ignobiles."  Here  is 
observed,  that  of  all  virtues  for  rising  to  honour, 
quickness  of  despatch  is  the  best ;  for  superiors 
many  times  love  not  to  have  those  they  employ 
too  deep  or  too  sufficient,  but  ready  and  diligent. 

"  Vidi  cunctos  viventes  qui  ambulant  sub  sole, 
cum  adolescente  secundo  qui  consurgit  pro  eo." 
Here  is  expressed  that  which  was  noted  by  Sylla 
first,  and  after  him  by  Tiberius  :  "  Plures  adorant 
solem  orientem  quam  occidentem  vel  meridia- 
num." 

"  Si  spiritus  potestatem  habentis  ascenderit  su 
per  te,  locum  tuum  ne  dimiseris;  quia  curatio 
faciet  cessare  peccata  maxima."  Here  caution  is 
given,  that  upon  displeasure,  retiring  is  of  aL 
U 


230 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


courses  the  unfittest;  for  a  man  leaveth  things  at 
worst,  and  depriveth  himself  of  means  to  make 
them  better. 

"  Erat  civitas  parva,  et  pauci  in  ea  viri :  venit 
contra  earn  rex  magnus,  et  vadavit  earn,  intrux- 
itque  munitiones  per  gyrum,  et  perfecta  est  obsi- 
dio  :  inventusque  est  in  ea  vir  pauper  et  sapiens, 
et  liberavit  earn  per  sapientiam  suam ;  et  nullus 
deinceps  recordatus  est  hominis  illius  pauperis." 
Here  the  corruption  of  states  is  set  forth,  that  es 
teem  not  virtue  or  merit  longer  than  they  have 
use  of  it. 

"  Moll  is  responsio  frangit  iram."  Here  is  noted 
that  silence  or  rough  answer  exasperateth  ;  but  an 
answer  present  and  temperate  pacifieth. 

"  Iter  pigrorum,  quasi  sepes  spinarum."  Here 
is  lively  represented  how  laborious  sloth  proveth 
in  the  end  ;  for  when  things  are  deferred  till  the 
last  instant,  and  nothing  prepared  beforehand, 
every  step  findeth  a  brier  or  an  impediment, 
which  catcheth  or  stoppeth. 

"  Melior  est  finis  orationis  quam  principium." 
Here  is  taxed  the  vanity  of  formal  speakers,  that 
study  more  about  prefaces  and  inducements,  than 
upon  the  conclusions  and  issues  of  speech. 

"  Qui  cognoscit  in  judicio  faciem,  non  bene  facit ; 
iste  et  pro  bucella  panis  deseret  veritatem."  Here 
is  noted,  that  a  judge  were  better  be  a  briber  than  a 
respecter  of  'persons  ;  for  a  corrupt  judge  offend- 
eth  not  so  highly  as  a  facile. 

"Vir  pauper  calumnians  pauperes  similis  est  im- 
bri  vehementi,  in  quo  paratur  fames."  Here  is 
expressed  the  extremity  of  necessitous  extortions, 
figured  in  the  ancient  fable  of  the  full  and  hungry 
horse-leech. 

"  Fons  turbatus  pede,  et  vena  corrupta,  est  Jus 
tus  cadens  coramimpio."  Here  is  noted,  that  one 
judicial  and  exemplar  iniquity  in  the  face  of  the 
world,  doth  trouble  the  fountains  of  justice  more 
than  many  particular  injuries  passed  over  by  con 
nivance. 

"  Qui  sub trah it  aliquid  a  patre  et  a  matre,  et 
dicit  hoc  non  esse  peccatum,  particeps  est  ho- 
micidii."  Here  is  noted  that  whereas  men  in 
wronging  their  best  friends  use  to  extenuate 
their  fault,  as  if  they  might  presume  or  be  bold 
upon  them,  it  doth  contrariwise  indeed  aggravate 
their  fault,  and  turneth  it  from  injury  to  impiety. 

"  Noli  esse  amicus  homini  iracundo,  nee  ambu- 
lato  cum  homine  furioso."  Here  caution  is 
given,  that  in  the  election  of  our  friends  we  do 
principally  avoid  those  which  are  impatient,  as 
those  that  will  espouse  us  to  many  factions  and 
quarrels. 

"  Qui  conturbat  domum  suam,  possidebit  ven- 
tum."  Here  is  noted,  that  in  domestical  separa 
tions  and  breaches,  men  do  promise  to  themselves 
quieting  of  their  mind  and  contentment ;  but  still 
they  are  deceived  of  their  expectation,  and  it  turn 
eth  to  wind. 

"Filius  sapiens  leetificat  patrem:  films  vero 


stultus  moastitia  est  matri  suse."  Here  is  distin 
guished,  that  fathers  have  most  comfort  of  the 
good  proof  of  their  sons  ;  but  mothers  have  most 
discomfort  of  their  ill  proof,  because  women  have 
little  discerning  of  virtue,  but  of  fortune. 

"  Qui  celat  delictum,  quserit  amicitiam ;  sed  qui 
altero  sermone  repetit,  separat  foederatos."  Here 
caution  is  given,  that  reconcilement  is  better  man 
aged  by  an  amnesty,  and  passing  over  that  which 
is  past,  than  by  apologies  and  excusations. 

"In  omni  opere  bono  erit  abundantia;  ubi  au- 
tem  verba  sunt  plurima,  ibi  frequenter  egestas." 
Here  is  noted,  that  words  and  discourse  abound 
most  where  there  is  idleness  and  want. 

"  Primus  in  sua  causa  Justus ;  sed  venit  altera 
pars,  et  inquirit  in  eum."  Here  is  observed,  that 
in  all  causes  the  first  tale  possesseth  much  ;  in 
such  sort,  that  the  prejudice  thereby  wrought  will 
be  hardly  removed,  except  some  abuse  or  falsity 
in  the  information  be  detected. 

"  Verba  bilinguis  quasi  simplicia,  et  ipsa  per- 
veniunt  ad  interiora  ventris."  Here  is  distin 
guished,  that  flattery  and  insinuation,  which 
seemeth  set  and  artificial,  sinketh  not  far ;  but 
that  entereth  deep  which  hath  show  of  nature, 
liberty,  and  simplicity. 

"  Qui  erudit  derisorem,  ipse  sibi  injuriam  facit; 
et  qui  arguit  impium,  sibi  maculam  generat." 
Here  caution  is  given  how  we  tender  reprehension 
to  arrogant  and  scornful  natures,  whose  manner 
is  to  esteem  it  for  contumely,  and  accordingly  to 
return  it. 

"Da  sapienti  occasionem,  et  addetur  ei  sapien- 
tia."  Here  is  distinguished  the  wisdom  brought 
into  habit,  and  that  which  is  but  verbal,  and 
swimming  only  in  conceit;  for  the  one  upon  oc 
casion  presented  is  quickened  and  redoubled,  the 
other  is  amazed  and  confused. 

"  Quomodo  in  aquis  resplendent  vultus  prospi- 
cientium,  sic  corda  hominum  manifesta  sunt  pru- 
dentibus."  Here  the  mind  of  a  wise  man  is  com 
pared  to  a  glass,  wherein  the  images  of  all  diver 
sity  of  natures  and  customs  are  represented  ;  from 
which  representation  proceedeth  that  application, 

"  Qui  sapit,  innumeris  moribus  aptus  erit.' 

Thus  have  I  stayed  somewhat  longer  upon  these 
sentences  politic  of  Solomon  than  is  agreeable  to 
the  proportion  of  an  example  ;  led  with  a  desire 
to  give  authority  to  this  part  of  knowledge,  which 
I  noted  as  deficient,  by  so  excellent  a  precedent ; 
and  have  also  attended  them  with  brief  observa 
tions,  such  as  to  my  understanding  offer  no  vio 
lence  to  the  sense,  though  I  know  they  may  be 
applied  to  a  more  divine  use:  but  it  is  allowed, 
even  in  divinity,  that  some  interpretations,  yea 
and  some  writings,  have  more  of  the  eagle  than 
others;  but  taking  them  as  instructions  for  life, 
they  might  have  received  large  discourse,  if  * 
would  have  broken  them  and  illustrated  them  by 
I  deducements  and  examples. 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


231 


Neither  was  this  in  use  only  with  the  Hebrews, 
but  it  is  generally  to  be  found  in  the  wisdom  of 
the  more  ancient  times;  that  as  men  found  out 
any  observation  that  they  thought  was  good  for 
life,  they  would  gather  it,  and  express  it  in  para 
ble,  or  aphorism,  or  fable.  But  for  fables,  they 
were  vicegerents  and  supplies  where  examples 
failed :  now  that  the  times  abound  with  history, 
the  aim  is  better  when  the  mark  is  alive.  And 
therefore  the  form  of  writing  which  of  all  others 
is  fittest  for  this  variable  argument  of  negotiation 
and  occasion  is  that  which  Machiavel  chose  wisely 
and  aptly  for  government ;  namely,  discourse  upon 
histories  or  examples :  for  knowledge  drawn  fresh 
ly,  and  in  our  view,  out  of  particulars,  knoweth 
the  way  best  to  particulars  again ;  and  it  hath 
much  greater  life  for  practice  when  the  discourse 
attendeth  upon  the  example,  than  when  the  ex 
ample  attendeth  upon  the  discourse.  For  this  is 
no  point  of  order,  as  it  seemeth  at  first,  but  of 
substance ;  for  when  the  example  is  the  ground, 
being  set  down  in  a  history  at  large,  it  is  set 
down  with  all  circumstances,  which  may  some 
times  control  the  discourse  thereupon  made,  and 
sometimes  supply  it  as  a  very  pattern  for  action ; 
whereas  the  examples  alleged  for  the  discourse's 
sake  are  cited  succinctly,  and  without  particular 
ity,  and  carry  a  servile  aspect  to  ward  the  discourse 
which  they  are  brought  in  to  make  good. 

But  this  difference  is  not  amiss  to  be  remem 
bered,  that  as  history  of  times  is  the  best  ground 
for  discourse  of  government,  such  as  Machiavel 
handleth,  so  history  of  lives  is  the  most  proper 
for  discourse  of  business,  because  it  is  most  con 
versant  in  private  actions.  Nay,  there  is  a 
ground  of  discourse  for  this  purpose  fitter  than 
them  both,  which  is  discourse  upon  letters,  such 
as  are  wise  and  weighty,  as  many  are  of  Cicero 
ad  Atticum,  and  others.  For  letters  have  a  great 
and  more  particular  representation  of  business 
than  either  chronicles  or  lives.  Thus  have  we 
spoken  both  of  the  matter  and  form  of  this  part 
of  civil  knowledge,  touching  negotiation,  which 
we  note  to  be  deficient. 

But  yet  there  is  another  part  of  this  part, 
which  differeth  as  much  from  that  whereof  we 
have  spoken  as  "  sapere,"  and  "  sibi  sapere,"  the 
one  moving  as  it  were  to  the  circumference,  the 
other  to  the  centre.  For  there  is  a  wisdom  of 
counsel,  and  again  there  is  a  wisdom  of  pressing 
a  man's  own  fortune;  and  they  do  sometimes 
meet,  and  often  sever ;  for  many  are  wise  in  their 
own  ways  that  are  weak  for  government  or  coun 
sel  ;  like  ants,  which  are  wise  creatures  for  them 
selves,  but  very  hurtful  for  the  garden.  This 
wisdom  the  Romans  did  take  much  knowledge 
of:  "Nam  pol  sapiens,"  saith  the  comical  poet, 
"  fingit  fortunam  sibi ;"  and  it  grew  to  an  adage, 
"  Faber  quisque  fortunse  propriae ;"  and  Livy 
attributeth  it  to  Cato  the  First,  "  in  hoc  viro  tanta 
vis  animi  et  ingenii  inerat,  ut  quocunque  loco  I 


natus  esset,  sibi  ipse  fortunam  facturus  vide- 
retur." 

This  conceit  or  position,  if  it  be  too  much  de 
clared  and  professed,  hath  been  thought  a  thing 
impolitic  and  unlucky,  as  was  observed  in  Timo- 
theus  the  Athenian ;  who  having  done  many 
great  services  to  the  estate  in  his  government, 
and  giving  an  account  thereof  to  the  people,  as  the 
manner  was,  did  conclude  every  particular  with 
this  clause,  "  and  in  this  fortune  had  no  part." 
And  it  came  so  to  pass  that  he  never  prospered 
in  any  thing  he  took  in  hand  afterwards :  for  this 
is  too  high  and  too  arrogant,  savouring  of  that 
which  Ezekiel  saith  of  Pharaoh,  "Dicis,  Fluvius 
est  meus,  et  ego  feci  memet  ipsum ;"  or  of  that 
which  another  prophet  speaketh,  that  men  offer 
sacrifices  to  their  nets  and  snares ;  and  that  which 
the  poet  expresseth, 

"Dextra  niilii  Deus,  et  telum  quod  missile  libro, 
Nunc  adsint!" 

for  these  confidences  were  ever  unhallowed,  and 
unblessed  :  and  therefore  those  that  were  great 
politicians  indeed  ever  ascribed  their  successes 
to  their  felicity,  and  not  to  their  skill  or  virtue. 
For  so  Sylla  surnamed  himself  "  Felix,"  not 
"Magnus:"  so  Caesar  said  to  the  master  of  the 
ship,  "Csesarem  portas  et  fortunam  ejus." 

But  yet  nevertheless  these  positions,  "Faber 
quisque  fortunse  suse :  Sapiens  dominabitur  astris  : 
Invia  virtuti  nulla  est  via,"  and  the  like,  being 
taken  and  used  as  spurs  to  industry,  and  not  as 
stirrups  to  insolency,  rather  for  resolution  than 
for  presumption  or  outward  declaration,  have  been 
ever  thought  sound  and  good ;  and  are,  no  ques 
tion,  imprinted  in  the  greatest  minds,  who  are  so 
sensible  of  this  opinion,  as  they  can  scarce  contain 
it  within:  as  we  see  in  Augustus  Caesar,  (who 
was  rather  diverse  from  his  uncle,  than  inferior  in 
virtue,)  how,  when  he  died,  he  desired  his  friends 
about  him  to  give  him  a  Plaudite,  as  if  he  were 
conscious  to  himself  that  he  had  played  his  part 
well  upon  the  stage.  This  part  of  knowledge 
we  do  report  also  as  deficient :  not  but  that  it  is 
practised  too  much,  but  it  hath  not  been  reduced 
to  writing.  And  therefore  lest  it  should  seem  to 
any  that  it  is  not  comprehensible  by  axiom,  it  is 
requisite,  as  we  did  in  the  former,  that  we  set 
down  some  heads  or  passages  of  it. 

Wherein  it  may  appear  at  the  first  a  new  and 
unwonted  argument  to  teach  men  how  to  raise 
and  make  their  fortune ;  a  doctrine  wherein  every 
man  perchance  will  be  ready  to  yield  himself  a 
disciple,  till  he  seeth  difficulty  :  for  fortune  layeth 
as  heavy  impositions  as  virtue;  and  it  is  as  hard 
and  severe  a  thing  to  be  a  true  politician,  as  to  be 
truly  moral .  But  the  handling  hereof  concerneth 
learning  greatly,  both  in  honour  and  in  substance : 
in  honour,  because  pragmatical  men  may  noi  go 
away  with  an  opinion  that  learning  is  like  a  lark, 
that  can  mount,  and  sing,  and  please  herself,  and 
nothing  else ;  but  may  know  that  she  holdeth  as 


232 


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BOOK  II. 


well  of  the  hawk,  that  can  soar  aloft,  and  can 
also  descend  and  strike  upon  the  prey :  in  sub 
stance,  because  it  is  the  perfect  law  of  inquiry  of 
truth,  "that  nothing  be  in  the  globe  of  matter, 
which  should  not  be  likewise  in  the  globe  of 
crystal,  or  form ;"  that  is,  that  there  be  not  any 
thing  in  being  and  action,  which  should  not  be 
drawn  and  collected  into  contemplation  and  doc 
trine.  Neither  doth  learning  admire  or  esteem 
of  this  architecture  of  fortune,  otherwise  than  as 
of  an  inferior  work  :  for  no  man's  fortune  can  be 
an  end  worthy  of  his  being;  and  many  times  the 
worthiest  men  do  abandon  their  fortune  willingly 
for  better  respects :  but  nevertheless  fortune,  as 
an  organ  of  virtue  and  merit,  deserveth  the  consi 
deration. 

First,  therefore,  the  precept  which  I  conceive  to 
be  most  summary  towards  the  prevailing  in  for 
tune,  is  to  obtain  that  window  which  Momus  did 
require :  who  seeing  in  the  frame  of  men's  heart 
puch  angles  and  recesses,  found  fault  that  there 
was  not  a  window  to  look  into  them ;  that  is,  to 
procure  good  informations  of  particulars  touching 
persons,  their  natures,  their  desires  and  ends,  their 
customs  and  fashions,  their  helps  and  advantages, 
and  whereby  they  chieily  stand :  so  again  their 
weakness  and  disadvantages,  and  where  they  lie 
most  open  and  obnoxious ;  their  friends,  factions, 
and  dependencies ;  and  again  their  opposites, 
enviers,  competitors,  their  moods  and  times, 
"  Sola  viri  mollcs  aditus  et  tcmpora  noras ;"  their 
principles,  rules,  and  observations,  and  the  like : 
and  this  not  only  of  persons,  but  of  actions;  what 
are  on  foot  from  time  to  time,  and  how  they  are 
conducted,  favoured,  opposed,  and  how  they  im 
port,  and  the  like.  For  the  knowledge  of  present 
actions  is  not  only  material  in  itself,  but  without 
it  also  the  knowledge  of  persons  is  very  errone 
ous  ;  for  men  change  with  the  actions  ;  and  whilst 
they  are  in  pursuit  they  are  one,  and  when  they 
return  to  their  nature  they  are  another.  These 
informations  of  particulars,  touching  persons  and 
actions,  are  as  the  minor  propositions  in  every 
active  syllogism :  for  no  excellency  of  observa 
tions,  which  are  as  the  major  propositions,  can 
suffice  to  ground  a  conclusion,  if  there  be  error 
arid  mistaking  in  the  minors. 

That  this  knowledge  is  possible,  Solomon  is 
our  surety;  who  saith,  "Consilium  in  corde  viri 
tanquam  aqua  profunda;  sed  vir  prudens  exhau- 
riet  illud."  And  although  the  knowledge  itself 
falleth  not  under  precept,  because  it  is  of  indivi 
duals,  yet  the  instructions  for  the  obtaining  of  it 
may. 

We  will  begin  therefore  with  this  precept,  ac 
cording  to  the  ancient  opinion,  that  the  sinews  of 
wisdom  are  slowness  of  belief  and  distrust ;  that 
more  trust  be  given  to  countenances  and  deeds 
than  to  words;  and  in  words,  rather  to  sudden 
passages  and  surprised  words.  Neither  let  that 
be  feared  which  is  said,  "Fronti,  nulla  fides:" 


which  is  meant  of  a  general  outward  behaviour, 
and  not  of  the  private  and  subtile  motions  and  la 
bours  of  the  countenance  and  gesture ;  which  as 
Q.  Cicero  elegantly  saith,  is  "animi  janua." 
None  more  close  than  Tiberius,  and  yet  Tacitus 
saith  of  Gallus,  "  Etenim  vultu  offensionem  con- 
jectaverat."  So  again  noting  the  differing  cha 
racter  and  manner  of  his  commending  Germanicus 
and  Drusus  in  the  senate,  he  saith,  touching  his 
fashion  wherein  he  carried  his  speech  of  Germa 
nicus,  thus ;  "  Magis  in  speciem  adornatis  verbis, 
quam  ut  penitus  sentire  videretur :"  but  of  Urusus 
thus;  «« Paucioribus,  sed  intentior,  et  fida  ora- 
tione :"  and  in  another  place,  speaking  of  his 
character  of  speech,  when  he  did  any  thing  that 
was  gracious  and  popular,  he  saith,  that  in  other 
things  he  was  "  velut  eluctantium  verborum ;" 
but  then  again,  "  solutius  vero  loquebatur  quando 
subveniret."  So  that  there  is  no  such  artificer  of 
dissimulation,  nor  no  such  commanded  counte 
nance,  "vultus  jussus,"  that  can  sever  from  a 
feigned  tale  some  of  these  fashions,  either  a  more 
slight  and  careless  fashion,  or  more  set  and  for 
mal,  or  more  tedious  and  wandering,  or  coming 
from  a  man  more  drily  and  hardly. 

Neither  are  deeds  such  assured  pledges,  as 
that  they  may  be  trusted  without  a  judicious  con 
sideration  of  their  magnitude  and  nature:  "Fraus 
sibi  in  parvis  fidein  praestruit,  ut  majore  emolu- 
mento  fallat:"  and  the  Italian  thiriketh  himself 
upon  the  point  to  be  bought  and  sold,  when  he  is 
better  used  than  he  was  wont  to  be,  without  mani 
fest  cause.  For  small  favours,  they  do  but  lull 
men  asleep,  both  as  to  caution  and  as  to  industry ; 
and  are,  as  Demosthenes  calleth  them,  "  Alimenta 
socordiee."  So  again  we  see  how7  false  the  nature 
of  some  deeds  are,  in  that  particular  which  Muti- 
anus  practised  upon  Antonius  Primus,  upon  that 
hollow  and  unfaithful  reconcilement  which  was 
made  between  them ;  whereupon  Mutianus  ad 
vanced  many  of  the  friends  of  Antonius  :  "  simul 
amicis  ejus  praefecturas  et  tribunatus  largitur*" 
wherein,  under  pretence  to  strengthen  him,  he  did 
desolate  him,  and  won  from  him  his  dependences. 

As  for  words,  though  they  be  like  waters  to 
physicians,  full  of  flattery  and  uncertainty,  yet 
they  are  not  to  be  despised,  especially  with  the 
advantage  of  passion  and  affection.  For  so  we 
see  Tiberius,  upon  a  stinging  and  incensing 
speech  of  Agrippina,  came  a  step  forth  of  his 
dissimulation,  when  he  said,  "  You  are  hurt,  be 
cause  you  do  not  reign;"  of  which  Tacitus  saith, 
"Audita  haec  raram  occulti  pectoris  vocem  eli- 
cuere ;  correptamque  Graeco  versu  admonuit,  ideo 
laedi,  quia  non  regnaret."  And  therefore  the  poet 
doth  elegantly  call  passions,  tortures,  that  urge 
men  to  confess  their  secrets : 

"Vino  tortas  et  ira.' 

And  experience  showreth,  there  are  few  men  so 
true  to  themselves  and  so  settled,  but  that  some 
times  upon  heat,  sometimes  upon  bravery,  some- 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


233 


times  upon  kindness,  sometimes  upon  trouble  of 
mind  and  weakness,  they  open  themselves;  es 
pecially  if  they  be  put  to  it  with  a  counter-dissi 
mulation,  according  to  the  proverb  of  Spain,  "Di 
mentira,  y  sacaras  verdad."  (Tell  a  lie  and  find 
the  truth.) 

As  for  the  knowing  of  men,  which  is  at  second 
hand  from  reports ;  men's  weaknesses  and  faults 
are  best  known  from  their  enemies,  their  virtues 
and  abilities  from  their  friends,  their  customs  and 
times  from  their  servants,  their  conceits  and  opi 
nions  from  their  familiar  friends,  with  whom  they 
discourse  most.  General  fame  is  light,  and  the 
opinions  conceived  by  superiors  or  equals  are  de 
ceitful  :  for  to  such,  men  are  more  masked  : 
"  Verior  fama  e  domesticis  emanat." 

But  the  soundest  disclosing  and  expounding  of 
men  is  by  their  natures  and  ends,  wherein  the 
weakest  sort  of  men  are  best  interpreted  by  their 
natures,  and  the  wisest  by  their  ends.  For  it  was 
both  pleasantly  and  wisely  said,  though  I  think 
very  untruly,  by  a  nuncio  of  the  pope,  returning 
from  a  certain  nation  where  he  served  as  lieger ; 
whose  opinion  being  asked  touching  the  appoint 
ment  of  one  to  go  in  his  place,  he  wished  that  in 
any  case  they  did  not  send  one  that  was  too  wise ; 
because  no  very  wise  man  would  ever  imagine 
what  they  in  that  country  were  like  to  do.  And 
certainly  it  is  an  error  frequent  for  men  to  shoot 
over,  and  to  suppose  deeper  ends,  and  more  com 
pass-reaches  than  are :  the  Italian  proverb  being 
elegant,  and  for  the  most  part  true  : 

"  Di  danari,  di  senno,  e  di  fede, 
C'e  ne  manco  che  non  credi." 

(There  is  commonly  less  money,  less  wisdom,  and 
less  good  faith  than  men  do  account  upon.) 

But  princes,  upon  a  far  other  reason,  are  best 
interpreted  by  their  natures,  and  private  persons 
by  their  ends ;  for  princes  being  at  the  top  of  hu 
man  desires,  they  have  for  the  most  part  no  par 
ticular  ends  whereto  they  aspire,  by  distance 
from  which  a  man  might  take  measure  and  scale 
of  the  rest  of  their  actions  and  desires ;  which  is 
one  of  the  causes  that  maketh  their  hearts  more 
inscrutable.  Neither  is  it  sufficient  to  inform 
ourselves  in  men's  ends  and  natures,  of  the 
variety  of  them  only,  but  also  of  the  predominan 
cy,  what  humour  reigneth  most,  and  what  end  is 
principally  sought.  For  so  we  see,  when  Tigel- 
linus  saw  himself  outstripped  by  Petronius  Tur- 
pilianus  in  Nero's  humours  of  pleasures,  "metus 
(jus  rimatur"  (he  wrought  upon  Nero's  fears,) 
whereby  he  broke  the  other's  neck. 

But  to  all  this  part  of  inquiry  the  most  compen 
dious  way  resteth  in  three  things :  the  first,  to 
have  general  acquaintance  and  inwardness  with 
those  which  have  general  acquaintance  and  look 
most  into  the  world  ;  and  especially  according  to 
the  diversity  of  business,  and  the  diversity  of  per 
sons  to  have  privacy  and  conversation  with  some 
one  friend,  at  least,  which  is  perfect  and  well  in- 

VOL.  I.— 30 


telligenced  in  every  several  kind.  The  second 
is,  to  keep  a  good  mediocrity  in  liberty  of  speech 
and  secrecy;  in  most  things  liberty:  secrecy 
where  it  importeth;  for  liberty  of  speech  in- 
viteth  and  provoketh  liberty  to  be  used  again, 
and  so  bringeth  much  to  a  man's  knowledge;  and 
secrecy,  on  the  other  side,  induceth  trust  and  in 
wardness.  The  last  is,  the  reducing  of  a  man's 
self  to  this  watchful  and  serene  habit,  as  to  make 
account  and  purpose,  in  every  conference  and  ac 
tion,  as  well  to  observe  as  to  act.  For  as  Epicte- 
tus  would  have  a  philosopher  in  every  particular 
action  to  say  to  himself,  "  Et  hoc  volo,  et  etiam 
institutum  servare;"  so  a  politic  man  in  every 
thing  should  say  to  himself,  "  Et  hoc  volo,  ac 
etiam  aliquid  addiscere."  I  have  stayed  the  lon 
ger  upon  this  precept  of  obtaining  good  informa 
tion,  because  it  is  a  main  part  by  itself,  which  an- 
swereth  to  all  the  rest.  But,  above  all  things,  cau 
tion  must  be  taken  that  men  have  a  good  stay  and 
hold  of  themselves,  and  that  this  much  knowledge 
do  not  draw  on  much  meddling:  for  nothing  is 
more  unfortunate  than  light  and  rash  intermed 
dling  in  many  matters.  So  that  this  variety  of 
knowledge  tendeth  in  conclusion  but  only  to  this, 
to  make  a  better  and  freer  choice  of  those  actions 
which  may  concern  us,  and  to  conduct  them  with 
the  less  error  and  the  more  dexterity. 

The  second  precept  concerning  this  knowledge 
is,  for  men  to  take  good  information  touching 
their  own  person,  and  well  to  understand  them 
selves  :  knowing  that,  as  St.  James  saith,  though 
men  look  oft  in  a  glass,  yet  they  do  suddenly 
forget  themselves  ;  wherein  as  the  divine  glass  is 
the  word  of  God,  so  the  politic  glass  is  the  state 
of  the  w^orld,  or  times  wherein  we  live,  in  the 
which  we  are  to  behold  ourselves. 

For  men  ought  to  take  an  impartial  view  of 
their  own  abilities  and  virtues ;  and  again  of  their 
wants  and  impediments ;  accounting  these  with 
the  most,  and  those  other  with  the  least;  and  from 
this  view  and  examination  to  frame  the  considera 
tions  following. 

First,  to  consider  how  the  constitution  of  their 
nature  sorteth  with  the  general  state  of  the  times ; 
which  if  they  find  agreeable  and  fit,  then  in  all 
things  to  give  themselves  more  scope  and  liberty; 
but  if  differing  and  dissonant,  then  in  the  whole 
course  of  their  life  to  be  more  close,  retired,  and 
reserved :  as  we  see  in  Tiberius,  who  was  never 
seen  at  a  play,  and  came  not  into  the  senate  in 
twelve  of  his  last  years ;  whereas  Augustus  Cae 
sar  lived  ever  in  men's  eyes,  which  Tacitus  ob 
serveth,  "Alia  Tiberio  morum  via." 

Secondly,  to  consider  how  their  nature  sorteth 
with  professions  and  courses  of  life,  and  accord 
ingly  to  make  election,  if  they  be  free ;  and,  if 
engaged,  to  make  the  departure  at  the  first  oppor 
tunity  :  as  we  see  was  done  by  Duke  Valentine, 
that  was  designed  by  his  father  to  a  sacerdotal 
profession,  but  quitted  it  soon  after  in  regard  of 
u2 


234 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


his  parts  and  inclination ;  being  such,  neverthe 
less,  as  a  man  cannot  tell  well  whether  they  were 
worse  for  a  prince  or  for  a  priest. 

Thirdly,  to  consider  how  they  sort  with  those 
whom  they  are  like  to  have  competitors  and  con 
currents  ;  and  to  take  that  course  wherein  there  is 
most  solitude,  and  themselves  like  to  be  most 
eminent:  as  Julius  Caesar  did,  who  at  first  was 
an  orator  or  pleader ;  but  when  he  saw  the  excel 
lency  of  Cicero,  Hortensius,  Catulus,  and  others, 
for  eloquence,  and  saw  there  was  no  man  of  repu 
tation  for  the  wars  but  Pompeius,  upon  whom  the 
state  was  forced  to  rely,  he  forsook  his  course 
begun  toward  a  civil  and  popular  greatness,  and 
transferred  his  designs  to  a  martial  greatness. 

Fourthly,  in  the  choice  of  their  friends  and  de 
pendences,  to  proceed  according  to  the  composi 
tion  of  their  own  nature:  as  we  may  see  in  Cae 
sar;  all  whose  friends  and  followers  were  men 
active  and  effectual,  but  not  solemn,  or  of  reputa 
tion. 

Fifthly,  to  take  special  heed  how  they  guide 
themselves  by  examples,  in  thinking  they  can  do 
as  they  see  others  do ;  whereas  perhaps  their  na 
tures  and  carriages  are  far  differing.  In  which 
error  it  seemeth  Pompey  was,  of  whom  Cicero 
saith,  that  he  was  wont  often  to  say,  "  Sylla  po- 
tuit,  ego  non  potero  ]"  Wherein  he  was  much 
abused,  the  natures  and  proceedings  of  himself 
and  his  example  being  the  unlikest  in  the  world ; 
the  one  being  fierce,  violent,  and  pressing  the  fact ; 
the  other  solemn,  and  full  of  majesty  and  circum 
stance,  and  therefore  the  less  effectual. 

But  this  precept  touching  the  politic  knowledge 
of  ourselves,  hath  many  other  branches,  whereupon 
we  cannot  insist. 

•  Next  to  the  well  understanding  and  discerning 
of  a  man's  self,  there  followeth  the  well  opening 
and  revealing  a  man's  self;  wherein  we  see  no 
thing  more  usual  than  for  the  more  able  men  to 
make  the  less  show.  For  there  is  a  great  advan 
tage  in  the  well  setting  forth  of  a  man's  virtues, 
fortunes,  merits  ;  and  again,  in  the  artificial  cover 
ing  of  a  man's  weaknesses,  defects,  disgraces ; 
staying  upon  the  one,  sliding  from  the  other; 
cherishing  the  one  by  circumstances,  gracing  the 
other  by  exposition,  and  the  like  :  wherein  we  see 
what  Tacitus  saith  of  Mutianus,  who  was  the 
greatest  politician  of  his  time,  "  Omnium  quae 
dixerat  feceratque  arte  quadam  ostentator :"  which 
requireth  indeed  some  art,  lest  it  turn  tedious  and 
arrogant;  but  yet  so  as  ostentation,  though  it  be 
to  the  first  degree  of  vanity,  seemeth  to  me  rather 
a  vice  in  manners  than  in  policy :  for  as  it  is  said, 
"  Audacter,  calumniare,  semper  aliquid  heeret :" 
so,  except  it  be  in  a  ridiculous  degree  of  deform 
ity,  "Audacter  te  vendita,  semper  aliquid  haeret." 
For  it  will  stick  with  the  more  ignorant  and  infe 
rior  sort  of  men,  though  men  of  wisdom  and  rank 
do  smile  at  it,  and  despise  it;  and  yet  the  autho 
rity  won  with  many  doth  countervail  the  disdain 


of  a  few.  But  if  it  be  carried  with  decency  and 
grovernment,  as  with  a  natural,  pleasant,  and  in- 
enious  fashion ;  or  at  times  when  it  is  mixed 
with  some  peril  and  unsafety,  as  in  military  per 
sons  ;  or  at  times  when  others  are  most  envied ; 
or  with  easy  and  careless  passage  to  it  and  from 
t,  without  dwelling  too  long,  or  being  too  seri 
ous  ;  or  with  an  equal  freedom  of  taxing  a  man's 
self,  as  well  as  gracing  himself;  or  by  occasion 
f  repelling  or  putting  down  others'  injury  or  in 
solence  ;  it  doth  greatly  add  to  reputation :  and 
surely  not  a  few  solid  natures,  that  want  this  ven- 
;osity,  and  cannot  sail  in  the  height  of  the  winds, 
are  not  without  some  prejudice  and  disadvantage 
3y  their  moderation. 

But  for  these  flourishes  and  enhancements  of 
virtue,  as  they  are  not  perchance  unnecessary,  so 
t  is  at  least  necessary  that  virtue  be  not,  disvalued 
and  embased  under  the  just  price;  which  is  done 
in  three  manners:  by  offering  and  obtruding  a 
man's  self;  wherein  men  think  he  is  rewarded, 
when  he  is  accepted ;  by  doing  too  much,  which 
will  not  give  that  which  is  well  done  leave  to 
settle,  and  in  the  end  induceth  satiety;  and  by 
Inding  too  soon  the  fruit  of  a  man's  virtue,  in 
commendation,  applause,  honour,  favour;  where- 
n  if  a  man  be  pleased  with  a  little,  let  him  hear 
vhat  is  truly  said  ;  "  Cave  ne  insuetus  rebus  ma- 
joribus  videaris,  si  hsec  te  res  parva  sicuti  magna 
delectat." 

But  the  covering  of  defects  is  of  no  less  im 
portance  than  the  valuing  of  good  parts ;  which 
may  be  done  likewise  in  three  manners,  by  cau 
tion,  by  colour,  and  by  confidence.  Caution  is 
when  men  do  ingeniously  and  discreetly  avoid  to 
be  put  into  those  things  for  which  they  are  not 
proper :  whereas,  contrariwise,  bold  and  unquiet 
spirits  will  thrust  themselves  into  matters  without 
difference,  and  so  publish  and  proclaim  all  their 
wants.  Colour  is,  when  men  make  a  way  for 
themselves,  to  have  a  construction  made  of  their 
faults  and  wants,  as  proceeding  from  a  better 
cause,  or  intended  for  some  other  purpose :  for  of 
the  one  it  is  well  said,  "  Ssepe  latet  vitium  proxi- 
mitate  boni,"  and  therefore  whatsoever  want  a 
man  hath,  he  must  see  that  he  pretend  the  virtue 
that  shadoweth  it ;  as  if  he  be  dull,  he  must  af 
fect  gravity ;  if  a  coward,  mildness ;  and  so  the 
rest:  for  the  second,  a  man  must  frame  some  pro- 
bable  cause  why  he  should  not  do  his  best,  and 
why  he  should  dissemble  his  abilities ;  and  for 
that  purpose  must  use  to  dissemble  those  abilities 
which  are  notorious  in  him,  to  give  colour  that  his 
true  wants  are  but  industries  and  dissimulations. 
For  confidence,  it  is  the  last  but  surest  remedy ; 
namely,  to  depress  and  seem  to  despise  whatso 
ever  a  man  cannot  attain;  observing  the  good 
principle  of  the  merchants,  who  endeavour  to 
raise  the  price  of  their  own  commodities,  and  to 
beat  down  the  price  of  others.  But  there  is  a 
confidence  that  passeth  this  other ;  which  is,  to 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


235 


face  out  a  man's  own  defects,  in  seeming  to  con 
ceive  that  he  is  best  in  those  things  wherein  he  is 
failing;  and,  to  help  that  again,  to  seem  on  the 
other  side  that  he  hath  least  opinion  of  himself  in 
those  things  wherein  he  is  best :  like  as  we  shall 
see  it  commonly  in  poets,  that  if  they  show  their 
verses,  and  you  except  to  any,  they  will  say,  that 
that  line  cost  them  more  labour  than  any  of  the 
rest ;  and  presently  will  seem  to  disable  and  sus 
pect  rather  some  other  line,  which  they  know  well 
enough  to  be  the  best  in  the  number.  But  above 
all,  in  this  righting  and  helping  of  a  man's  self 
in  his  own  carriage,  he  must  take  heed  he  show 
not  himself  dismantled,  and  exposed  to  scorn  and 
injury,  by  too  much  dulceness,  goodness,  and 
facility  of  nature;  but  show  some  sparkles  of 
liberty,  spirit,  and  edge :  which  kind  of  fortified 
carriage,  with  a  ready  rescuing  of  a  man's  self 
from  scorns,  is  sometimes  of  necessity  imposed 
upon  men  by  somewhat  in  their  person  or  fortune; 
but  it  ever  succeedeth  with  good  felicity. 

Another  precept  of  this  knowledge  is,  by  all 
possible  endeavour  to  frame  the  mind  to  be  pliant 
and  obedient  to  occasion;  for  nothing  hindereth 
men's  fortunes  so  much  as  this ;  "Idem  manebat, 
neque  idem  decebat,"  men  are  where  they  were, 
when  occasions  turn :  and  therefore  to  Cato,  whom 
Livy  maketh  such  an  architect  of  fortune,  he 
addeth,  that  he  had  "  versatile  ingenium."  And 
thereof  it  cometh  that  these  grave  solemn  wits, 
which  must  be  like  themselves,  and  cannot  make 
departures,  have  more  dignity  than  felicity.  But 
in  some  it  is  nature  to  be  somewhat  viscous  and 
inwrapped,  and  not  easy  to  turn ;  in  some  it  is  a 
conceit,  that  is  almost  a  nature,  which  is,  that 
men  can  hardly  make  themselves  believe  that 
they  ought  to  change  their  course,  when  they 
have  found  good  by  it  in  former  experience.  For 
Machiavel  noted  wisely,  how  Fabius  Maximus 
would  have  been  temporizing  still,  according  to 
his  old  bias,  when  the  nature  of  the  war  was 
altered  and  required  hot  pursuit.  In  some  other 
it  is  want  of  point  and  penetration  in  their  judg 
ment,  that  they  do  not  discern  when  things  have 
a  period,  but  come  in  too  late  after  the  occasion ; 
as  Demosthenes  compareth  the  people  of  Athens 
to  country  fellows,  when  they  play  in  a  fence 
school,  that  if  they  have  a  blow,  then  they  remove 
their  weapon  to  that  ward,  and  not  before.  In 
some  other  it  is  a  loathness  to  leese  labours  passed, 
and  a  conceit  that  they  can  bring  about  occasions 
to  their  ply ;  and  yet  in  the  end,  when  they  see 
no  other  remedy,  then  they  come  to  it  with  disad 
vantage  ;  as  Tarquinius,  that  gave  for  the  third 
part  of  Sibylla's  books  the  treble  price,  when  he 
might  at  first  have  had  all  three  for  the  simple. 
But  from  whatsoever  root  or  cause  this  restiveness 
of  mind  proceedeth,  it  is  a  thing  most  prejudicial ; 
and  nothing  is  more  politic  than  to  make  the 
wheels  of  our  mind  concentric  and  voluble  with 
the  wheels  of  fortune. 


Another  precept  of  this  knowledge,  which  hath 
some  affinity  with  that  we  last  spake  of,  but  with 
difference,  is  that  which  is  well  expressed,  "Fatis 
accede  Deisque,"  that  men  do  not  only  turn  with 
the  occasions,  but  also  run  with  the  occasions,  and 
not  strain  their  credit  or  strength  to  over  hard  or 
extreme  points ;  but  choose  in  their  actions  that 
which  is  most  passable:  for  this  will  preserve 
men  from  foil,  not  occupy  them  too  much  about 
one  matter,  win  opinion  of  moderation,  please  the 
most,  and  make  a  show  of  a  perpetual  felicity  in 
all  they  undertake;  which  cannot  but  mightily 
increase  reputation. 

Another  part  of  this  knowledge  seemeth  to  have 
some  repugnancy  with  the  former  two,  but  not  as 
I  understand  it ;  and  it  is  that  which  Demosthe 
nes  uttereth  in  high  terms ;  "  Et  quemadmodum 
receptum  est,  ut  exercitum  ducat  imperator,  sic  et 
a  cordatis  viris  res  ipsae  ducendae;  ut  quee  ipsis 
videntur,  ea  gerantur,  et  non  ipsi  eventus  tanturn 
persequi  cogantur."  For,  if  we  observe,  we  shall 
find  two  different  kinds  of  sufficiency  in  managing 
of  business :  some  can  make  use  of  occasions 
aptly  and  dexterously,  but  plot  little ;  some  can 
urge  and  pursue  their  own  plots  well,  but  cannot 
accommodate  nor  take  in  ;  either  of  which  is  very 
imperfect  without  the  other. 

Another  part  of  this  knowledge  is  the  observing 
a  good  mediocrity  in  the  declaring,  or  not  declar 
ing  a  man's  self:  for  although  depth  of  secrecy, 
and  making  way,  "qualis  est  via  navis  in  mari," 
(which  the  French  call  sourdes  menees,  when 
men  set  things  in  work  without  opening  them 
selves  at  all,)  be  sometimes  both  prosperous  and 
admirable ;  yet  many  times  "  Dissimulatio  errores 
parit,  qui  dissimulatorem  ipsum  illaqueant ;"  and 
therefore,  we  see  the  greatest  politicians  have  in 
a  natural  and  free  manner  professed  their  desires, 
rather  than  been  reserved  and  disguised  in  them  ; 
for  so  we  see  that  Lucius  Sylla  made  a  kind  of 
profession,  "  that  he  wished  all  men  happy  or 
unhappy,  as  they  stood  his  friends  or  enemies." 
So  Cagsar,  when  he  went  first  into  Gaul,  made  no 
scruples  to  profess,  "  that  he  had  rather  be  first  in 
a  village  than  second  at  Rome."  So  again,  as 
soon  as  he  had  begun  the  war  we  see  what  Cicero 
saith  of  him,  "  Alter  (meaning  of  Caesar)  non 
recusat,  sed  quodammodo  postulat,  ut,  ut  est,  sic 
appelletur  tyrannus."  So  we  may  see  in  a  letter 
of  Cicero  to  Atticus,  that  Augustus  Csesar  in  his 
very  entrance  into  affairs,  when  he  was  a  darling 
of  the  senate,  yet  in  his  harangues  to  the  people 
would  swear,  "  Ita  parentis  honores  consequi 
liceat,"  which  was  no  less  than  the  tyranny ;  save 
that,  to  help  it,  he  would  stretch  forth  his  hand 
towards  a  statue  of  Caesar's  that  was  erected  in 
the  place  :  whereat  many  men  laughed,  and  won 
dered,  and  said,  Is  it  possible  ?  or,  Did  you  ever 
hear  the  like  to  this  1  and  yet  thought  he  meant  no 
hurt ;  he  did  it  so  handsomely  and  ingenuously. 
And  all  these  were  prosperous  :  w 


236 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


who  tended  to  the  same  end,  but  in  a  more  dark 
and  dissembling  manner,  as  Tacitus  saith  of  him, 
«*  Occultior,  non  melior,"  wherein  Sallust  concur- 
reth,  "ore  probo,  animo  inverecundo,"  made  it  his 
design,  by  infinite  secret  engines  to  cast  the  state 
into  an  absolute  anarchy  and  confusion,  that  the 
state  might  cast  itself  into  his  arms  for  necessity 
and  protection,  and  so  the  sovereign  power  be  put 
upon  him,  and  he  never  seen  in  it :  and  when  he  had 
brought  it,  as  he  thought,  to  that  point,  when  he  was 
chosen  consul  alone,  as  never  any  was,  yet  he  could 
make  no  great  matter  of  it,  because  men  understood 
him  not ;  but  was  fain,  in  the  end,  to  go  the  beaten 
track  of  getting  arms  into  his  hands,  by  colour  of 
the  doubt  of  Cassar's  designs  :  so  tedious,  casual, 
and  unfortunate  are  these  deep  dissimulations : 
whereof,  it  seemeth,  Tacitus  made  his  judgment, 
that  they  were  a  cunning  of  an  inferior  form  in  re 
gard  of  true  policy  ;  attributing  the  one  to  Augus 
tus,  the  other  to  Tiberius  ;  where,  speaking  of 
Livia,  he  saith,  "  Et  cum  artibus  mariti  simula- 
tione  filii  bene  composita :"  for  surely  the  con 
tinual  habit  of  dissimulation  is  but  a  weak  and 
sluggish  cunning,  and  not  greatly  politic. 

Another  precept  of  this  architecture  of  fortune 
is,  to  accustom  our  minds  to  judge  of  the  propor 
tion  or  value  of  things,  as  they  conduce  and  are 
material  to  our  particular  ends  ;  and  that  to  do 
substantially,  and  not  superficially.  For  we 
shall  find  the  logical  part,  as  I  may  term  it,  of 
some  men's  minds  good,  but  the  mathematical 
part  erroneous  ;  that  is,  they  can  well  judge  of 
consequences,  but  not  of  proportions  and  compara- 
sons,  preferring  things  of  show  and  sense  before 
things  of  substance  and  effect.  So  some  fall  in 
love  with  access  to  princes,  others  with  popular 
fame  and  applause,  supposing  they  are  things  of 
great  purchase  :  when  in  many  cases  they  are  but 
matters  of  envy,  peril,  and  impediment. 

So  some  measure  things  according  to  the  labour 
and  difficulty,  or  assiduity,  which  are  spent  about 
them ;  and  think,  if  they  be  ever  moving,  that 
they  must  needs  advance  and  proceed:  as  Cassar 
saith  in  a  despising  manner  of  Cato  the  Second, 
when  he  describeth  how  laborious  and  indefati 
gable  he  was  to  no  great  purpose ;  "  Hasc  ornnia 
magno  studio  agebat."  So  in  most  things  men 
are  ready  to  abuse  themselves  in  thinking  the 
greatest  means  to  be  best,  when  it  should  be  the 
fittest. 

As  for  the  true  marshalling  of  men's  pursuits 
towards  their  fortune,  as  they  are  more  or  less 
material,  I  hold  them  to  stand  thus :  first  the 
amendment  of  their  own  minds;  for  the  remove 
of  the  impediments  of  the  mind  will  sooner  clear 
the  passages  of  fortune  than  the  obtaining  for 
tune  will  remove  the  impediments  of  the  mind. 
In  the  second  place  I  set  down  wealth  and  means, 
which  I  know  most  men  would  have  placed  first ; 
because  of  the  general  use  which  it  beareth  to 
wards  all  variety  of  occasions :  but  that  opinion, 


I  may  condemn  with  like  reason  as  Machiavel 
doth  that  other,  that  moneys  were  the  sinews  of 
the  wars ;  whereas,  saith  he,  the  true  sinews  of 
the  wars  are  the  sinews  of  men's  arms,  that  is,  a 
valiant,  populous,  and  military  nation :  and  he 
voucheth  aptly  the  authority  of  Solon,  who,  when 
Croesus  showed  him  his  treasury  of  gold,  said  to 
him,  that  if  another  came  that  had  better  iron,  he 
would  be  master  of  his  gold.  In  like  manner  it 
may  be  truly  affirmed,  that  it  is  not  moneys  that 
are  the  sinews  of  fortune,  but  it  is  the  sinews  and 
steel  of  men's  minds,  wit,  courage,  audacity,  re 
solution,  temper,  industry,  and  the  like.  In  the 
third  place  I  set  down  reputation,  because  of  the 
peremptory  tides  and  currents  it  hath  ;  which,  if 
they  be  not  taken  in  their  due  time,  are  seldom 
recovered,  it  being  extreme  hard  to  play  an  after 
game  of  reputation.  And  lastly,  I  place  honour, 
which  is  more  easily  won  by  any  of  the  other 
three,  much  more  by  all,  than  any  of  them  can  be 
purchased  by  honour.  To  conclude  this  precept, 
as  there  is  order  and  priority  in  matter,  so  is  there 
in  time,  the  preposterous  placing  whereof  is  one 
of  the  commonest  errors ;  while  men  fly  to  their 
ends  when  they  should  intend  their  beginnings, 
and  do  not  take  things  in  order  of  time  as  they 
come  on,  but  marshal  them  according  to  greatness, 
and  not  according  to  instance ;  not  observing  the 
good  precept,  "  Quod  nunc  instat  agamus." 

Another  precept  of  this  knowledge  is,  not  to 
embrace  any  matters  which  do  occupy  too  great  a 
quantity  of  time,  but  to  have  that  sounding  in  a 
man's  ears,  "  Sed  fugit  interea,  fugit  irreparabile 
tempus :"  and  that  is  the  cause  why  those  which 
take  their  course  of  rising  by  professions  of  bur 
den,  as  lawyers,  orators,  painful  divines,  and  the 
like,  are  not  commonly  so  politic  for  their  own 
fortunes,  otherwise  than  in  their  ordinary  way, 
because  they  want  time  to  learn  particulars,  to 
wait  occasions,  and  to  devise  plots. 

Another  precept  of  this  knowledge  is,  to  imi 
tate  nature,  which  doth  nothing  in  vain ;  which 
surely  a  man  may  do  if  he  do  well  interlace  his 
business,  and  bend  not  his  mind  too  much  upon 
that  which  he  principally  intendeth.  For  a  man 
ought  in  every  particular  action  so  to  carry  the 
motions  of  his  mind,  and  so  to  have  one  thing 
under  another,  as  if  he  cannot  have  that  he  seeketh 
in  the  best  degree,  yet  to  have  it  in  a  second,  or 
so  in  a  third ;  and  if  he  can  have  no  part  of  that 
which  he  purposed,  yet  to  turn  the  use  of  it  to 
somewhat  else ;  and  if  he  cannot  make  any  thing 
of  it  for  the  present,  yet  to  make  it  as  a  seed  ot 
somewhat  in  time  to  come ;  and  if  he  can  contrive 
no  effect  or  substance  from  it,  yet  to  win  some 
good  opinion  by  it,  or  the  like.  So  that  he  should 
exact  account  of  himself  of  every  action,  to  reap 
somewhat,  and  not  to  stand  amazed  and  confused 
if  he  fail  of  that  he  chiefly  meant :  for  nothing  is 
more  impolitic  than  to  mind  actions  wholly  one 
by  one ;  for  he  that  doth  so  leeseth  infinite  occa- 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


237 


sions  which  intervene,  and  are  many  times  more 
proper  and  propitious  for  somewhat  that  he  shall 
need  afterwards,  than  for  that  which  he  urgeth 
for  the  present ;  and  therefore  men  must  be  per 
fect  in  that  rule,  "  Haec  oportet  facere,  et  ilia  non 
omittere." 

Another  precept  of  this  knowledge  is,  not  to 
engage  a  man's  self  peremptorily  in  any  thing, 
though  it  seem  not  liable  to  accident ;  but  ever  to 
have  a  window  to  fly  out  at,  or  a  way  to  retire  : 
following  the  wisdom  in  the  ancient  fable  of  the 
two  frogs,  which  consulted  wrhen  their  plash  was 
dry,  whither  they  should  go ;  and  the  one  moved 
to  go  down  into  a  pit,  because  it  was  not  likely 
the  water  would  dry  there ;  but  the  other  answered, 
"  True,  but  if  it  do,  how  shall  we  get  out  again  ?" 

Another  precept  of  this  knowledge  is,  that  an 
cient  precept  of  Bias,  construed  not  to  any  point 
of  perfidiousness,  but  only  to  caution  and  mode 
ration.  "  Et  ama  tanquam  inimicus  futurus,  et 
odi  tanquam  amaturus ;"  for  it  utterly  betrayeth 
all  utility  for  men  to  embark  themselves  too  far 
in  unfortunate  friendships,  troublesome  spleens, 
and  childish  and  humorous  envies  or  emulations. 

But  I  continue  this  beyond  the  measure  of  an 
example;  led,  because  I  would  not  have  such 
knowledges,  which  I  note  as  deficient,  to  be 
thought  things  imaginative  or  in  the  air,  or  an 
observation  or  two  much  made  of,  but  things  of 
bulk  and  mass,  whereof  an  end  is  hardlier  made 
than  a  beginning.  It  must  be  likewise  conceived, 
that  in  these  points  which  I  mention  and  set  down, 
they  are  far  from  complete  tractates  of  them,  but 
only  as  small  pieces  for  patterns.  And  lastly,  no 
man,  I  suppose,  will  think  that  I  mean  fortunes 
are  not  obtained  without  all  this  ado;  for  I  know 
they  come  tumbling  into  some  men's  laps ;  and  a 
number  obtain  good  fortunes  by  diligence  in  a 
plain  way,  little  intermeddling,  and  keeping 
themselves  from  gross  errors. 

But  as  Cicero,  when  he  setteth  down  an  idea  of 
a  perfect  orator,  doth  not  mean  that  every  pleader 
should  be  such  ;  and  so  likewise,  when  a  prince 
or  a  courtier  hath  been  described  by  such  as  have 
handled  those  subjects,  the  mould  hath  used  to  be 
made  according  to  the  perfection  of  the  art,  and 
not  according  to  common  practice:  so  I  under 
stand  it,  that  it  ought  to  be  done  in  the  descrip 
tion  of  a  politic  man,  I  mean  politic  for  his  own 
fortune. 

But  it  must  be  remembered  all  this  while,  that  I 
the  precepts  which  we  have  set  down  are  of  that 
kind  which  may  be  counted  and  called  "bonse 
artes."  As  for  evil  arts,  if  a  man  would  set  down 
for  himself  that  principle  of  Machiavel,  "  that  a 
man  seek  not  to  attain  virtue*itself,  but  the  ap 
pearance  only  thereof;  because  the  credit  of 
virtue  is  a  help,  but  the  use  of  it  is  cumber:"  or 
that  other  of  his  principles,  "  that  he  presuppose, 
that  men  are  not  fitly  to  be  wrought  otherwise 
but  by  fear ;  and  therefore  that  he  seek  to  have 


every  man  obnoxious,  low,  and  in  strait,"  whics 
the  Italians  call  "  seminar  spine,"  to  sow  thorns  ; 
or  that  other  principle,  contained  in  the  verse 
which  Cicero  citeth,  "Cadant  amici,  dummodo 
inimici  intercidant,"  as  the  Triumvirs,  which 
sold,  every  one  to  other,  the  lives  of  their  friends 
for  the  deaths  of  their  enemies  :  or  that  other  pro 
testation  of  L.  Catalina,  to  set  on  fire  and  trouble 
states,  to  the  end  to  fish  in  droumy  waters,  and 
to  unwrap  their  fortunes,  "  Ego  si  quid  in  fortunis 
meis  excitatum  sit  incendium,  id  non  aqua,  sed 
ruina  restinguam :"  or  that  other  principle  of 
Lysander  "  that  children  are  to  be  deceived  with 
comfits,  and  men  with  oaths :"  and  the  like  evil 
and  corrupt  positions,  whereof,  as  in  all  things, 
there  are  more  in  number  than  of  the  good  :  cer 
tainly,  with  these  dispensations  from  the  lawTs  of 
charity  and  integrity,  the  pressing  of  a  man's  for 
tune  may  be  more  hasty  and  compendious.  But 
it  is  in  life  as  it  is  in  ways,  the  shortest  way  is 
commonly  the  foulest,  and  surely  the  fairer  way 
is  not  much  about. 

But  men,  if  they  be  in  their  own  power,  and  do 
bear  and  sustain  themselves,  and  be  not  carried 
away  with  a  whirlwind  or  tempest  of  ambition, 
ought,  in  the  pursuit  of  their  own  fortune,  to  set 
before  their  eyes  not  only  that  general  map  of  the 
world,  that  "all  things  are  vanity  and  vexation 
of  spirit,"  but  many  other  more  particular  cards 
and  directions  :  chiefly  that, — that  being,  without 
well-being,  is  a  curse, — and  the  greater  being  the 
greater  curse ;  and  that  all  virtue  is  most  reward 
ed,  and  all  wickedness  most  punished  in  itself: 
according  as  the  poet  saith  excellently  : 

"Quse  vobis,  qua?  digna,  viri,  pro  laudibus  istis 
Prsemia  posse  rear  solvi?  pulcherrima  primum 
Dii  inorcsque  dabunt  vestri." 

And  so  of  the  contrary.  And,  secondly,  they 
ought  to  look  up  to  the  eternal  providence  and 
divine  judgment,  which  ofien  subverteth  the  wis 
dom  of  evil  plots  and  imaginations,  according  to 
that  Scripture,  "  He  hath  conceived  mischief,  and 
shall  bring  forth  a  vain  thing."  And  although 
men  should  refrain  themselves  from  injury  and 
evil  arts,  yet  this  incessant  and  Sabbathless  pur 
suit  of  a  man's  fortune  leaveth  not  the  tribute 
which  we  owe  to  God  of  our  time ;  who,  we  see, 
demandeth  a  tenth  of  our  substance,  and  a  seventh, 
which  is  more  strict,  of  our  time :  and  it  is  to 
small  purpose  to  have  an  erected  face  towards 
heaven,  and  a  perpetual  grovelling  spirit  upon 
earth,  eating  dust,  as  doth  the  serpent,  "Atque 
afiigit  humo  divinse  particulam  aura?."  And  if 
any  man  flatter  himself  that  he  will  employ  his 
fortune  well,  though  he  should  obtain  it  ill,  as 
was  said  concerning  Augustus  Caesar,  and  after 
of  Septimius  Severus,  "  that  either  they  should 
never  have  been  born,  or  else  they  should  never 
have  died,"  they  did  so  much  mischief  in  the 
pursuit  and  ascent  of  their  greatness,  and  so  much, 
good  when  they  were  established ;  yet  these 


238 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


compensations  and  satisfactions  are  good  to  be 
used,  but  never  good  to  be  purposed.  And  lastly, 
it  is  not  amiss  for  men,  in  their  race  toward  their 
fortune,  to  cool  themselves  a  little  with  that  con 
ceit  which  is  elegantly  expressed  by  the  Emperor 
Charles  the  Fifth,  in  his  instructions  to  the  king, 
his  son,  "  that  fortune  hath  somewhat  of  the  nature 
of  a  woman,  that  if  she  be  too  much  wooed,  she 
is  the  farther  off."  But  this  last  is  but  a  remedy 
for  those  whose  tastes  are  corrupted:  let  men 
rather  build  upon  that  foundation  which  is  as  a 
corner-stone  of  divinity  and  philosophy,  wherein 
they  join  close,  namely,  that  same  "  Primum 
quaerite."  For  divinity  saith,  "Primum  quaerite 
regnum  Dei,  et  ista  omnia  adjicientur  vobis  :"  and 
philosophy  saith,  "  Primum  quaerite  bona  animt, 
caetera  aut  aderunt,  aut  non  oberunt."  And  al 
though  the  human  foundation  hath  somewhat  of 
the  sands,  as  we  see  in  M.  Brutus,  when  he  brake 
forth  into  that  speech, 

"  Te  colui,  virtus,  ut  rem  ;  ast  tu  nomen  inane  es ;"' 
yet  the  divine  foundation  is  upon  the  rock.     But 
this  may  serve  for  a  taste  of  that  knowledge  which 
I  noted  as  deficient. 

Concerning  Government,  it  is  a  part  of  know 
ledge  secret  and  retired,  in  both  these  respects  in 
which  things  are  deemed  secret;  for  some  things 
are  secret  because  they  are  hard  to  know,  and 
some  because  they  are  not  fit  to  utter.  We  see 
all  governments  are  obscure  and  invisible  : 

"  Totamque  infusa  per  artus 
Mcns  agitat  niolem,  et  magno  se  corpore  miscet.'' 

Such  is  the  description  of  governments.  We  see 
the  government  of  God  over  the  world  is  hidden, 
insomuch  as  it  seemeth  to  participate  of  much  ir 
regularity  and  confusion  :  the  government  of  the 
soul  in  moving  the  body  is  inward  and  profound, 
and  the  passages  thereof  hardly  to  be  reduced  to 
demonstration.  Again,  the  wisdom  of  antiquity, 
(the  shadows  whereof  are  in  the  poets,)  in  the  de 
scription  of  torments  and  pains,  next  unto  the 
crime  of  rebellion,  which  was  the  giants'  offence, 
doth  detest  the  offence  of  futility,  as  in  Sisyphus 
and  Tantalus.  But  this  was  meant  of  particu 
lars  :  nevertheless  even  unto  the  general  rules 
and  discourses  of  policy  and  government  there  is 
due  a  reverent  and  reserved  handling. 

But,  contrariwise,  in  the  governors  toward  the 
governed,  all  things  ought,  as  far  as  the  frailty  of 
man  permitteth,  to  be  manifest  and  revealed.  For 
so  it  is  expressed  in  the  Scriptures  touching  the 
government  of  God,  that  this  globe,  which  seem 
eth  to  us  a  dark  and  shady  body,  is  in  the  view 
of  God  as  crystal:  "  Et  in  corispectu  sedis  tan- 
quam  mare  vitreum  simile  crystallo."  So  unto 
princes  and  states,  especially  towards  wise  se 
nates  and  councils,  the  natures  and  dispositions 
of  the  people,  their  conditions  and  necessities, 
their  factions  and  combinations,  their  animosities 
and  discontents,  ought  to  be,  in  regard  of  the  va 


riety  of  their  intelligences,  the  wisdom  of  their 
observations,  and  the  height  of  their  station  where 
they  keep  sentinel,  in  great  part  clear  and  trans 
parent.  Wherefore,  considering  that  I  write  to  a 
king  that  is  a  master  of  this  science,  and  is  so  well 
assisted,  I  think  it  decent  to  pass  over  this  part 
in  silence,  as  willing  to  obtain  the  certificate 
which  one  of  the  ancient  philosophers  aspired 
unto ;  who  being  silent,  when  others  contended 
to  make  demonstration  of  their  abilities  by  speech, 
desired  it  might  be  certified  for  his  part,  "  that 
there  was  one  that  knew  how  to  hold  his  peace."' 
Notwithstanding,  for  the  more  public  part  of 
government,  which  is  Laws,  I  think  good  to  note 
only  one  deficiency ;  which  is,  that  all  those 
which  have  written  of  laws,  have  written  either 
as  philosophers  or  as  lawyers,  and  none  as  states 
men.  As  for  the  philosophers,  they  make  ima 
ginary  laws  for  imaginary  commonwealths;  and 
their  discourses  are  as  the  stars,  which  give  little 
light,  because  they  are  so  high.  For  the  lawyers, 
they  write  according  to  the  states  where  they  live, 
what  is  received  law,  and  not  what  ought  to  be 
law:  for  the  wisdom  of  a  lawmaker  is  one,  and 
of  a  lawyer  is  another.  For  there  are  in  nature 
certain  fountains  of  justice,  whence  all  civil  laws 
are  derived  but  as  streams  :  and  like  as  waters  do 
take  tinctures  and  tastes  from  the  soils  through 
which  they  run,  so  do  civil  laws  vary  according 
to  the  regions  and  governments  where  they  are 
planted,  though  they  proceed  from  the  same  foun 
tains.  Again,  the  wisdom  of  a  lawmaker  con- 
sisteth  not  only  in  a  platform  of  justice,  but  in  the 
application  thereof;  taking  into  consideration  by 
what  means  laws  may  be  made  certain,  and  what 
are  the  causes  and  remedies  of  the  doubtfulness 
and  uncertainty  of  law ;  by  what  means  laws 
may  be  made  apt  and  easy  to  be  executed,  and 
what  are  the  impediments  and  remedies  in  the 
execution  of  laws;  what  influence  laws  touching 
private  right  of  meum  and  tuum  have  into  the 
public  state,  and  how  they  may  be  made  apt  and 
agreeable;  how  laws  are  to  be  penned  and  deli 
vered,  whether  in  texts  or  in  acts,  brief  or  large, 
with  preambles,  or  without;  how  they  are  to  be 
pruned  and  reformed  from  time  to  time,  and  what 
is  the  best  means  to  keep  them  from  being  too 
vast  in  volumes,  or  too  full  of  multiplicity  and 
crossness;  how  they  are  to  be  expounded,  when 
upon  causes  emergent  and  judicially  discussed, 
and  when  upon  responses  and  conferences  touch 
ing  general  points  or  questions ;  how  they  are  to 
be  pressed,  rigorously  or  tenderly ;  how  they  are 
to  be  mitigated  by  equity  and  good  conscience, 
and  whether  discretion  and  strict  law  are  to  be 
mingled  in  the  sa^e  courts,  or  kept  apart  in  seve 
ral  courts ;  again,  how  the  practice,  profession, 
and  erudition  of  law  is  to  be  censured  and  go 
verned  ;  and  many  other  points  touching  the  ad 
ministration,  and,  as  I  may  term  it,  animation  of 
laws.  Upon  which  I  insist  the  less,  because  I 


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ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


239 


purpose,  if  God  give  me  leave,  (having  begun  a 
work  of  this  nature  in  aphorisms,)  to  propound  it 
hereafter,  noting  it  in  the  mean  time  for  deficient. 
And  for  your  majesty's  laws  of  England,  I 
could  say  much  of  their  dignity,  and  somewhat 
of  their  defect;  but  they  cannot  but  excel  the 
civil  laws  in  fitness  for  the  government:  for  the 
civil  law  was  "  non  hos  quaesitum  munus  in 
usus  ;"  it  was  not  made  for  the  countries  which  it 
governeth  :  hereof  I  cease  to  speak,  because  I  will 
not  intermingle  matter  of  action  with  matter  of 
general  learning. 

THUS  have  I  concluded  this  portion  of  learning 
touching  civil  knowedge ;  and  with  civil  know 
ledge  have  concluded  human  philosophy ;  and 
with  human  philosophy,  philosophy  in  general. 
And  being  now  at  some  pause,  looking  back  into 
that  I  have  passed  through,  this  writing  seemeth 
to  me,  "  si  nunquam  fallit  imago"  (as  far  as  a  man 
can  judge  of  his  own  work,)  not  much  better  than 
that  noise  or  sound  which  musicians  make  while 
they  are  tuning  their  instruments;  which  is  no 
thing  pleasant  to  hear,  but  yet  is  a  cause  why  the 
music  is  sweeter  afterwards :  so  have  I  been  con 
tent  to  tune  the  instruments  of  the  muses,  that 
they  may  play  that  have  better  hands.  And  sure 
ly,  when  I  set  before  me  the  condition  of  these 
times,  in  which  learning  hath  made  her  third 
visitation  or  circuit  in  all  the  qualities  thereof— as 
the  excellency  and  vivacity  of  the  wits  of  this 
age ;  the  noble  helps  and  lights  which  we  have 
by  the  travails  of  ancient  writers  ;  the  art  of  print 
ing,  which  communicateth  books  to  men  of  all 
fortunes ;  the  openness  of  the  world  by  naviga 
tion,  which  hath  disclosed  multitudes  of  experi 
ments,  and  a  mass  of  natural  history ;  the  leisure 
wherewith  these  times  abound,  not  employing 
men  so  generally  in  civil  business,  as  the  states 
of  Greecia  did,  in  respect  of  their  popularity,  and 
the  states  of  Rome,  in  respect  of  the  greatness  of 
their  monarchy ;  the  present  disposition  of  these 
times  at  this  instant  to  peace ;  the  consumption 
of  all  that  ever  can  be  said  in  controversies  of  re 
ligion,  which  have  so  much  diverted  men  from 
other  sciences;  the  perfection  of  your  majesty's 
learning,  which  as  a  phoenix  may  call  whole  vol- 
lies  of  wits  to  follow  you;  and  the  inseparable 
propriety  of  time,  which  is  ever  more  and  more 
to  disclose  truth — I  cannot  but  be  raised  to  this 
persuasion,  that  this  third  period  of  time  will  far 
surpass  that  of  the  Grecian  and  Roman  learning: 
only  if  men  will  know  their  own  strength,  and 
their  own  weakness  both  ;  and  take  one  from  the 
other,  light  of  invention,  and  riot  fire  of  contra 
diction;  and  esteem  of  the  inquisition  of  truth  as  of 
an  enterprise,  and  not  as  of  a  quality  or  ornament; 
and  employ  wit  and  magnificence  to  things  of 
worth  and  excellency,  and  not  to  things  vulgar 
and  of  popular  estimation.  As  for  my  labours,  if 
any  man  shall  please  himself  or  others  in  the  re 


prehension  of  them,  they  shall  make  that  ancient 
and  patient  request,  "  Verbera,  sed  audi ;"  let 
men  reprehend  them,  so  they  observe  and  weigh 
them  :  for  the  appeal  is  lawful,  though  it  may  be 
it  shall  not  be  needful,  from  the  first  cogitations 
of  men  to  their  second,  and  from  the  nearer  times 
to  the  times  farther  off.  Now  let  us  come  to  that 
learning,  which  both  the  former  times  were  not 
so  blessed  as  to  know,  sacred  and  inspired  Divi 
nity,  the  sabbath  and  port  of  all  men's  labours 
and  peregrinations. 

THE  prerogative  of  God  extendeth  as  well  to 
the  reason  as  to  the  will  of  man ;  so  that  as  we 
are  to  obey  his  law,  though  we  find  a  reluctation 
in  our  will,  so  we  are  to  believe  his  word,  though 
we  find  a  reluctation  in  our  reason.  For  if  we 
believe  only  that,  which  is  agreeable  to  our  sense, 
we  give  consent  to  the  matter,  and  not  to  the  au 
thor  ;  which  is  no  more  than  we  would  do  towards 
a  suspected  and  discredited  witness;  but  that 
faith  which  was  accounted  to  Abraham  for  right 
eousness  was  of  such  a  point  as  whereat  Sarah 
laughed,  who  therein  was  an  image  of  natural 
reason. 

Howbeit,  if  we  will  truly  consider  it,  more 
worthy  it  is  to  believe  than  to  know  as  we  now 
know.  For  in  knowledge  man's  mind  sufifereth 
from  sense;  but  in  belief  it  suffereth  from  spirit, 
such  one  as  it  holdeth  for  more  authorized  than 
itself,  and  so  suffereth  from  the  worthier  agent. 
Otherwise  it  is  of  the  state  of  man  glorified ;  for 
then  faith  shall  cease,  and  we  shall  know  as  we 
are  known. 

Wherefore  we  conclude  that  sacred  Theology, 
(which  in  our  idiom  we  call  Divinity,)  is  ground 
ed  only  upon  the  word  and  oracle  of  God,  and  not 
upon  the  light  of  nature  :  for  it  is  written,  "  Cceli 
enarrant  gloriam  Dei;"  but  it  is  not  written,  "Cceli 
enarrant  voluntatem  Dei :"  but  of  that  it  is  said, 
"  Ad  legem  et  testimonium  :  si  non  fecerint  secun- 
dum  verbum  istud,"  &c.  This  holdeth  not  only 
in  those  points  of  faith  which  concern  the  great 
mysteries  of  the  Deity,  of  the  creation,  of  the  re 
demption,  but  likewise  those  which  concern  the 
law  moral  truly  interpreted  :  Love  yqjir  enemies : 
do  good  to  them  that  hate  you ;  be  like  to  your 
heavenly  Father,  that  suffereth  his  rain  to  fall 
upon  the  just  and  unjust.  To  this  it  ought  to  be 
applauded,  "Nee  vox  hominum  sonat:"  it  is  a 
voice  beyond  the  light  of  nature.  So  we  see  the 
heathen  poets,  when  they  fall  upon  a  libertine 
passion,  do  still  expostulate  with  laws  and  mo 
ralities,  as  if  they  were  opposite  and  malignant  to 
nature:  "  Et  quod  natura  remittit,  invida  jura 
negant."  So  said  Dendamis  the  Indian  unto 
Alexander's  messengers,  "  That  he  had  heard 
somewhat  of  Pythagoras,  and  some  other  of  the 
wise  men  of  Graecia,  and  that  he  held  them  for 
excellent  men :  but  that  they  had  a  fault,  which 
was,  that  they  had  in  too  great  reverence  and 


240 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  IJ 


veneration  a  thing  they  called  law  and  manners." 
So  it  must  be  confessed,  that  a  great  part  of  the 
law  moral  is  of  that  perfection,  whereunto  the 
light  of  nature  cannot  aspire :  how  then  is  it  that 
man  is  said  to  have,  by  the  light  and  law  of  na 
ture,  some  notions  and  conceits  of  virtue  and 
vice,  justice  and  wrong,  good  and  evil1?  Thus, 
because  the  light  of  nature  is  used  in  two  several 
senses;  the  one,  that  which  springeth  from 
reason,  sense,  induction,  argument,  according  to 
the  laws  of  heaven  and  earth;  the  other,  that 
which  is  imprinted  upon  the  spirit  of  man  by  an 
inward  instinct,  according  to  the  law  of  con 
science,  which  is  a  sparkle  of  the  purity  of  his 
first  estate  :  in  which  latter  sense  only  he  is  par 
ticipant  of  some  light  and  discerning  touching 
the  perfection  of  the  moral  law :  but  how  1  suffi 
cient  to  check  the  vice,  but  not  to  inform  the  duty. 
So  then  the  doctrine  of  religion,  as  well  moral  as 
mystical,  is  not  to  be  attained  but  by  inspiration 
and  revelation  from  God. 

The  use,  notwithstanding,  of  reason  in  spiritual 
things,  and  the  latitude  thereof,  is  very  great  and 
general :  for  it  is  not  for  nothing  that  the  apostle 
calleth  religion  our  reasonable  service  of  God  ; 
insomuch  as  the  very  ceremonies  and  figures  of 
the  old  law  were  full  of  reason  and  signification, 
much  more  than  the  ceremonies  of  idolatry  and 
magic,  that  are  full  of  non-significants  and  surd 
characters.  But  most  especially  the  Christian 
faith,  as  in  all  things,  so  in  this  deserveth  to  be 
highly  magnified;  holding  and  preserving  the 
golden  mediocrity  in  this  point  between  the  law 
of  the  heathen  and  the  law  of  Mahomet,  which 
have  embraced  the  two  extremes.  For  the  reli 
gion  of  the  heathen  had  no  constant  belief  or  con 
fession,  but  left  all  to  the  liberty  of  argument ; 
and  the  religion  of  Mahomet,  on  the  ether  side, 
interdicteth  argument  altogether :  the  one  having 
the  very  face  of  error,  and  the  other  of  imposture  : 
whereas  the  faith  doth  both  admit  and  reject  dis 
putation  with  difference. 

The  use  of  human  reason  in  religion  is  of  two 
sorts :  the  former,  in  the  conception  and  appre 
hension  of  the  mysteries  of  God  to  us  revealed ; 
the  other,  in  the  inferring  and  deriving  of  doc 
trine  and  direction  thereupon.  The  former  ex- 
tendeth  to  the  mysteries  themselves ;  but  how  ? 
by  way  of  illustration,  and  not  by  way  of  argu 
ment  :  the  latter  consisteth  indeed  of  probation 
and  argument.  In  the  former,  we  see,  God 
vouch  safe th  to  descend  to  our  capacity,  in  the  ex 
pressing  of  his  mysteries  in  sort  as  may  be  sen- 


and  exempted  from  examination  of  reason,  it  is 
then  permitted  unto  us  to  make  derivations  and 
inferences  from,  and  according  to  the  analogy  of 
them,  for  our  better  direction.  In  nature  this 
holdeth  not ;  for  both  the  principles  are  examina- 
ble  by  induction,  though  not  by  a  medium  or 
syllogism ;  and  besides,  those  principles  or  first 
positions  have  no  discordance  with  that  reason 
which  draweth  down  and  deduceth  the  inferior 
positions.  But  yet  it  holdeth  not  in  religion 
alone,  but  in  many  knowledges,  both  of  greater 
and  smaller  nature,  namely,  wherein  there  are  not 
only  posita  but  placita ;  for  in  such  there  can  be 
no  use  of  absolute  reason:  we  see  it  familiarly  in 
games  of  wit,  as  chess,  or  the  like :  the  draughts 
and  first  laws  of  the  game  are  positive,  but  how  1 
merely  ad  placitum,  and  not  examinable  by  rea 
son  ;  but  then  how  to  direct  our  play  thereupon 
with  best  advantage  to  win  the  game,  is  artificial 
and  rational.  So  in  human  laws,  there  be  many 
grounds  and  maxims  which  are  placita  juris, 
positive  upon  authority,  and  riot  upon  reason,  and 
therefore  not  to  be  disputed  :  but  what  is  most 
just,  not  absolutely  but  relatively,  and  according 
to  those  maxims,  that  affordeth  a  long  field  of 
disputation.  Such  therefore  is  that  secondary 
reason,  which  hath  place  in  divinity,  which  is 
grounded  upon  the  placets  of  God. 

Here  therefore  I  note  this  deficiency,  that  there 
hath  not  been,  to  my  understanding,  sufficiently 
inquired  and  handled  the  true  limits  and  use  of 
reason  in  spiritual  things,  as  a  kind  of  divine 
dialectic  :  which  for  that  it  is  not  done,  it  seemeth 
to  me  a  thing  usual,  by  pretext  of  true  conceiving 
that  which  is  revealed,  to  search  and  mine  into 
that  which  is  not  revealed ;  and  by  pretext  of 
enucleating  inferences  and  contradictories,  to 
examine  that  which  is  positive:  the  one  sort 
falling  into  the  error  of  Nicodemus,  demanding 
to  have  things  made  more  sensible  than  it  pleaseth 
God  to  reveal  them,  "  Quomodo  possit  homo 
nasci  cum  sit  senexl"  the  other  sort  into  the 
error  of  the  disciples,  which  were  scandalized  at 
a  show  of  contradiction,  "Quid  est  hoc  quod 
dicit  nobis"?  Modicum  et  non  videbitis  me;  et 
iterum  modicum  et  videbitis  me,"  &c. 

Upon  this  I  have  insisted  the  more,  in  regard 
of  the  great  and  blessed  use  thereof;  for  this 
point,  well  laboured  and  defined  of,  would  in  my 
judgment  be  an  opiate  to  stay  and  bridle  not  only 
the  vanity  of  curious  speculations,  wherewith  the 
schools  labour,  but  the  fury  of  controversies, 
wherewith  the  church  laboureth.  For  it  cannot 


sible  unto  us ;  and  doth  graft  his  revelations  and  \  but  open  men's  eyes,  to  see  that  many  controver 


holy  doctrine  upon  the  notions  of  our  reason,  and 
applieth  his  inspirations  to  open  our  understand 
ing,  as  the  form  of  the  key  to  the  ward  of  the 
lock:  for  the  latter,  there  is  allowed  us  a  use  of 
reason  and  argument,  secondary  and  respective, 
although  not  original  and  absolute.  For  after 
the  articles  and  principles  of  religion  are  placed 


sies  do  merely  pertain  to  that  which  is  either  not 
revealed,  or  positive ;  and  that  many  others  do 
grow  upon  weak  and  obscure  inferences  or  deri 
vations  :  which  latter  sort,  if  men  would  revive 
the  blessed  style  of  that  great  doctor  of  the  Gen 
tiles,  would  be  carried  thus,  "  Ego,  non  Domi- 
nus ;"  and  again,  "  Secundum  consilium  meum," 


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ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


241 


in  opinions  and  counsels,  and  not  in  positions  and 
oppositions.  But  men  are  now  over-ready  to 
usurp  the  style,  "Non  ego,  sed  Dominus;"  and 
not  so  only,  but  to  bind  it  with  the  thunder  and 
denunciation  of  curses  and  anathemas,  to  the  ter 
ror  of  those  which  have  not  sufficiently  learned 
out  of  Solomon,  that  "  the  causeless  curse  shall 
not  come." 

Divinity  hath  two  principal  parts ;  the  matter 
informed  or  revealed,  and  the  nature  of  the  infor 
mation  or  revelation :  and  with  the  latter  we  will 
begin,  because  it  hath  most  coherence  with  that 
which  we  have  now  last  handled.  The  nature 
of  the  information  consisteth  of  three  branches ; 
the  limits  of  the  information,  the  sufficiency  of 
the  information,  and  the  acquiring  or  obtaining 
the  information.  Unto  the  limits  of  the  informa 
tion  belong  these  considerations ;  how  far  forth 
particular  persons  continue  to  be  inspired ;  how 
far  forth  the  church  is  inspired  ;  how  far  forth 
reason  may  be  used :  the  last  point  whereof  I 
have  noted  as  deficient.  Unto  the  sufficiency  of 
the  information  belong  two  considerations ;  what 
points  of  religion  are  fundamental,  and  what  per 
fective,  being  matter  of  further  building  and  per 
fection  upon  one  and  the  same  foundation ;  and 
again,  how  the  gradations  of  light,  according  to 
the  dispensation  of  times,  are  material  to  the 
sufficiency  of  belief. 

Here  again  I  may  rather  give  it  in  advice,  than 
note  it  as  deficient,  that  the  points  fundamental, 
and  the  points  of  farther  perfection  only,  ought  to 
be  with  piety  and  wisdom  distinguished ;  a  sub 
ject  tending  to  much  like  end  as  that  I  noted  be 
fore  ;  for  as  that  other  were  likely  to  abate  the 
number  of  controversies,  so  this  is  like  to  abate 
the  heat  of  many  of  them.  We  see  Moses  when 
he  saw  the  Israelite  and  the  ^Egyptian  fight,  he 
did  not  say,  Why  strive  you  ?  but  drew  his  sword 
and  slew  the  ./Egyptian  :  but  when  he  saw  the 
two  Israelites  fight,  he  said,  You  are  brethren, 
why  strive  you  1  If  the  point  of  doctrine  be  an 
^Egyptian,  it  must  be  slain  by  the  sword  of  the 
Spirit,  and  not  reconciled  ;  but  if  it  be  an  Israelite, 
though  in  the  wrong,  then,  Why  strive  you  1  We 
see  of  the  fundamental  points,  our  Saviour  pen- 
neth  the  league  thus,  "  he  that  is  not  with  us  is 
against  us  ;"  but  of  points  not  fundamental,  thus, 
"  He  that  is  not  against  us,  is  with  us."  So  we 
see  the  coat  of  our  Saviour  was  entire  without 
seam,  and  so  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Scripture  in 
itself;  but  the  garment  of  the  church  was  of  di 
vers  colours,  and  yet  not  divided  :  we  see  the 
chaff  may  and  ought  to  be  severed  from  the  corn 
in  the  ear,  but  the  tares  may  not  be  pulled  up  from 
the  corn  in  the  field.  So  as  it  is  a  thing  of  great 
use  well  to  define  what,  and  of  what  latitude  those 
points  are,  which  do  make  men  merely  aliens  and 
disincorporate  from  the  church  of  God. 

For  the  obtaining  of  the  information,  it  resteth 
upon  the  true  and  sound  interpretation  of  the  Scrip- 

VOL.  I.— 31 


tures,  which  are  the  fountains  of  the  water  of  life. 
The  interpretations  of  the  Scriptures  are  of  two 
sorts  ;  methodical,  and  solute  or  at  large.  For 
this  divine  water,  which  excelleth  so  much  that 
of  Jacob's  well,  is  drawn  forth  much  in  the  same 
kind  as  natural  water  useth  to  be  out  of  wells  and 
fountains;  either  it  is  first  to  be  forced  up  into  a 
cistern,  and  from  thence  fetched  and  derived  for 
use  ;  or  else  it  is  drawn  and  received  in  buckets 
and  vessels  immediately  where  it  springeth  :  the 
former  sort  whereof,  though  it  seem  to  be  the  more 
ready,  yet  in  my  judgment  is  more  subject  to  cor 
rupt.  This  is  that  method  which  hath  exhibited 
unto  us  the  scholastical  divinity  ;  whereby  divini 
ty  hath  been  reduced  into  an  art,  as  into  a  cistern, 
and  the  streams  of  doctrine  or  positions  fetched 
and  derived  from  thence. 

In  this  men  have  sought,  three  things,  a  sum 
mary  brevity,  a  compacted  strength,  and  a  com 
plete  perfection  ;  whereof  the  two  first  they  fail  to 
find,  and  the  last  they  ought  not  to  seek.  For  as 
to  brevity,  we  see,  in  all  summary  methods,  while 
men  purpose  to  abridge,  they  give  cause  to  dilate. 
For  the  sum  or  abridgment  by  contraction  be- 
cometh  obscure ;  the  obscurity  requireth  exposi 
tion,  and  the  exposition  is  deduced  into  large 
commentaries,  or  into  commonplaces  and  titles, 
which  grow  to  be  more  vast  than  the  original 
writings,  whence  the  sum  was  first  extracted.  So, 
we  see,  the  volumes  of  the  schoolmen  are  greater 
much  than  the  first  writings  of  the  fathers,  whence 
the  master  of  the  sentences  made  his  sum  or  col 
lection.  So,  in  like  manner,  the  volumes  of  the 
modern  doctors  of  the  civil  law  exceed  those  of  the 
ancient  jurisconsults,  of  which  Tribonian  com 
piled  the  digest.  So  as  this  course  of  sums  and 
commentaries  is  that  which  doth  infallibly  make 
the  body  of  sciences  more  immense  in  quantity, 
and  more  base  in  substance. 

And  for  strength,  it  is  true  that  knowledges  re 
duced  into  exact  methods  have  a  show  of  strength, 
in  that  each  part  secmeth  to  support  and  sustain 
the  other;  but  this  is  more  satisfactory  than  sub 
stantial  :  like  unto  buildings  which  stand  by 
architecture  and  compaction,  which  are  more  sub 
ject  to  ruin  than  those  which  are  built  more  strong 
in  their  several  parts,  though  less  compacted.  But 
it  is  plain  that  the  more  you  recede  from  your 
i  grounds,  the  weaker  do  you  conclude  :  and  as  in 
j  nature,  the  more  you  remove  yourself  from  par 
ticulars,  the  greater  peril  of  error  you  do  incur ;  so 
much  more  in  divinity,  the  more  you  recede  from 
the  Scriptures  by  inferences  and  consequences, 
the  more  weak  and  dilute  are  your  positions. 

And  as  for  perfection  or  completeness  in  divini 
ty,  it  is  not  to  be  sought ;  which  makes  this  course 
of  artificial  divinity  the  more  suspect.  For  he 
that  will  reduce  a  knowledge  into  an  art,  will 
make  it  round  and  uniform  :  but  in  divinity  many 
things  must  be  left  abrupt,  and  concluded  with 
this :  "  O  altitude  sapiential  scientia  Dei!  quart' 
X 


242 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


BOOK  II. 


incomprehensibilia  sunt  judicia  ejus,  et  non  in- 
vestigabiles  vise  ejus  !"  So  again  the  apostle 
saith,  "  Ex  parte  scimus :"  and  to  have  the  form 
of  a  total,  where  there  is  but  matter  for  a  part, 
cannot  be  without  supplies  by  supposition  and 
presumption.  And  therefore  I  conclude,  that  the 
true  use  of  these  sums  and  methods  hath  place 
in  institutions  or  introductions  preparatory  unto 
knowledge  ;  but  in  them,  or  by  deducement  from 
them,  to  handle  the  main  body  and  substance  of 
a  knowledge,  is  in  all  sciences  prejudicial,  and  in 
divinity  dangerous. 

As  to  the  interpretation  of  the  Scriptures  solute 
and  at  large,  there  have  been  divers  kinds  intro 
duced  and  devised ;  some  of  them  rather  curious 
and  unsafe,  than  sober  and  warranted.  Notwith 
standing,  thus  much  must  be  confessed,  that  the 
Scriptures,  being  given  by  inspiration,  and  not  by 
human  reason,  do  differ  from  all  other  books  in 
the  author;  which,  by  consequence,  doth  draw  on 
some  difference  to  be  used  by  the  expositor.  For 
the  inditer  of  them  did  know  four  things  which 
no  man  attains  to  know ;  which  are,  the  mys 
teries  of  the  kingdom  of  glory,  the  perfection 
of  the  laws  of  nature,  the  secrets  of  the  heart  of 
man,  and  the  future  succession  of  all  ages.  For 
as  to  the  firs'  it  is  said,  »  He  that  presseth  into 
the  light,  shail  be  oppressed  of  the  glory."  And 
again,  "No  man  shall  see  my  face  and  live." 
To  the  second,  »»  When  he  prepared  the  heavens 
I  was  present,  when  by  law  and  compass  he  en 
closed  the  deep."  To  the  third,  "  Neither  was  it 
needful  that  any  should  bear  witness  to  him  of 
man,  for  he  knew  well  what  was  in  man."  And 
to  the  last,  "  From  the  beginning  are  known  to 
the  Lord  all  his  works." 

From  the  former  of  these  two  have  been  drawn 
certain  senses  and  expositions  of  Scriptures,  which 
had  need  be  contained  within  the  bounds  of  so 
briety  ;  the  one  anagogical,  and  the  other  philoso 
phical.  But  as  to  the  former,  man  is  not  to  pre 
vent  his  time :  "  Vridemus  nunc  per  speculum  in 
zenigmate,  tune  autem  facie  ad  faciem  :"  wherein, 
nevertheless,  there  seemeth  to  be  a  liberty  granted, 
as  far  forth  as  the  polishing  of  this  glass,  or  some 
moderate  explication  of  this  enigma.  But  to 
press  too  far  into  it,  cannot  but  cause  a  dissolu 
tion  and  overthrow  of  the  spirit  of  man.  For  in 
the  body  there  are  three  degrees  of  that  we  receive 
into  it,  aliment,  medicine,  and  poison ;  whereof 
aliment  is  that  which  the  nature  of  man  can  per 
fectly  alter  and  overcome  :  medicine  is  that  which 
is  partly  converted  by  nature,  and  partly  convert- 
eth  nature  :  and  poison  is  that  which  worketh 
wholly  upon  nature,  without  that,  that  nature 
can  in  any  part  work  upon  it :  so  in  the  mind 
whatsoever  knowledge  reason  cannot  at  all  work 
upon  and  convert,  is  a  mere  intoxication,  and  endan- 
gereth  a  dissolution  of  the  mind  and  understanding. 

But  for  the  latter  it  hath  been  extremely  set  on 
loot  of  late  time  by  the  school  of  Paracelsus,  and 


some  others,  that  have  pretended  to  find  the  truth 
of  all  natural  philosophy  in  the  Scriptures ;  scanda 
lizing  and  traducing  all  other  philosophy  as  hea 
thenish  and  profane.  But  there  is  no  such  enmity 
between  God's  word  and  his  works  ;  neither  do 
they  give  honour  to  the  Scriptures,  as  they  sup 
pose,  but  much  embase  them.  For  to  seek  hea 
ven  and  earth  in  the  word  of  God,  (whereof  it  is 
said  "  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass,  but  my  word 
shall  not  pass,")  is  to  seek  temporary  things 
amongst  eternal:  and  as  to  seek  divinity  in  phi 
losophy  is  to  seek  the  living  amongst  the  dead, 
so  to  seek  philosophy  in  divinity  is  to  seek  the 
dead  amongst  the  living;  neither  are  the  pots  or 
lavers,  whose  place  was  in  the  outward  part  of 
the  temple,  to  be  sought  in  the  holiest  place  of 
all,  where  the  ark  of  the  testimony  was  seated. 
And  again,  the  scope  or  purpose  of  the  Spirit  of 
God  is  not  to  express  matters  of  nature  in  the 
Scriptures  otherwise  than  in  passage,  and  for 
application  to  man's  capacity,  and  to  matters 
moral  or  divine.  And  it  is  a  true  rule,  "  Auc- 
toris  aliud  agentis  parva  auctoritas  ;"  for  it  were 
a  strange  conclusion,  if  a  man  should  use  a  simi 
litude  for  ornament  or  illustration  sake,  borrowed 
from  nature  or  history  according  to  vulgar  conceit, 
as  of  a  basilisk,  a  unicorn,  a  centaur,  a  Briareus, 
a  hydra,  or  the  like,  that  therefore  he  must  needs 
be  thought  to  affirm  the  matter  thereof  positively  to 
be  true.  To  conclude,  therefore,  these  two  inter 
pretations,  the  one  by  reduction  or  enigmatical, 
the  other  philosophical  or  physical,  which  have 
been  received  and  pursued  in  imitation  of  the  rab 
bins  and  cabalists,  are  to  be  confined  with  a  "  noli 
altum  sapere,  sed  time." 

But  the  two  latter  points,  known  to  God  and 
unknown  to  man,  touching  the  secrets  of  the 
heart,  and  the  successions  of  time,  do  make  a  just 
and  sound  difference  between  the  manner  of  the 
exposition  of  the  Scriptures  and  all  other  books. 
For  it  is  an  excellent  observation  which  hath  been 
made  upon  the  answers  of  our  Saviour  Christ  to 
many  of  the  questions  which  were  propounded  to 
him,  how  that  they  are  impertinent  to  the  state 
of  the  question  demanded;  the  reason  whereof  is, 
because,  not  being  like  man,  which  knows  man's 
thoughts  by  his  words,  but  knowing  man's 
thoughts  immediately,  he  never  answered  their 
words,  but  their  thoughts :  much  in  the  like 
manner  it  is  with  the  Scriptures,  which  being 
written  to  the  thoughts  of  men,  and  to  the  succes 
sion  of  all  ages,  with  a  foresight  of  all  heresies, 
contradiction,  differing  estates  of  the  church,  yea 
and  particularly  of  the  elect,  are  not  to  be  interpret 
ed  only  according  to  the  latitude  of  the  proper  sense 
of  the  place,  and  respectively  towards  that  present 
occasion  whereupon  the  words  were  uttered,  or  in 
precise  congruity  or  contexture  with  the  words 
before  or  after,  or  in  contemplation  of  the  princi 
pal  scope  of  the  place;  but  have  in  themselves, 
not  only  totally  or  collectively,  but  distributively 


BOOK  II. 


ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


243 


in  clauses  and  words,  infinite  springs  and  streams 
of  doctrine  to  water  the  church  in  every  part 
Arid,  therefore,  as  the  literal  sense  is,  as  it  were 
the  main  stream  or  river ;  so  the  moral  sense 
chiefly,  and  sometimes  the  allegorical  or  typical, 
are  they  whereof  the  church  hath  most  use :  not 
that  I  wish  men  to  be  bold  in  allegories,  or  indul 
gent  or  light  in  allusions ;  but  that  I  do  much  con 
demn  that  interpretation  of  the  Scripture  which  is 
only  after  the  manner  as  men  use  to  interpret  a  pro 
fane  book. 

In  this  part,  touching  the  exposition  of  the 
Scriptures,  I  can  report  no  deficience  ;  but  by  way 
of  remembrance  this  I  will  add  ;  in  perusing  books 
of  divinity,  I  find  many  books  of  controversies,  and 
many  of  commonplaces  and  treatises,  a  mass  of 
positive  divinity,  as  it  is  made  an  art ;  a  number 
of  sermons  and  lectures,  and  many  prolix  com 
mentaries  upon  the  Scriptures,  with  harmonies  and 
concordances  :  but  that  form  of  writing  in  divinity, 
which  in  my  judgment  is  of  all  others  most  rich 
and  precious,  is  positive  divinity,  collected  upon 
particular  texts  of  Scriptures  in  brief  observations ; 
not  dilated  into  commonplaces,  not  chasing  after 
controversies,  not  reduced  into  method  of  art ;  a 
thing  abounding  in  sermons  which  will  vanish, 
but  defective  in  books  which  will  remain;  and  a 
thing  wherein  this  age  excelleth.  For  I  am  per 
suaded,  (and  I  may  speak  it  with  an  "  Absit  in- 
vidia  verbo,"  and  noways  in  derogation  of  anti 
quity,  but  as  in  a  good  emulation  between  the  vine 
and  the  olive,)  that  if  the  choice  and  best  of  those 
observations  upon  texts  of  Scriptures,  which  have 
been  made  dispersedly  in  sermons  within  this  your 
majesty's  island  of  Britain  by  the  space  of  these 
forty  years  and  more,  leaving  out  the  largeness  of 
exhortations  and  applications  thereupon,  had  been 
set  down  in  a  continuance,  it  had  been  the  best 
work  in  divinity  which  had  been  written  since  the 
apostles'  times. 

The  matter  informed  by  divinity  is  of  two 
kinds  ;  matter  of  belief  and  truth  of  opinion,  and 
matter  of  service  and  adoration ;  which  is  also 
judged  and  directed  by  the  former;  the  one  being 
as  the  internal  soul  of  religion,  and  the  other  as 
the  external  body  thereof.  And  therefore  the  hea 
then  religion  was  not  only  a  worship  of  idols,  but 
the  whole  religion  was  an  idol  in  itself;  for  it  had 
no  soul,  that  is,  no  certainty  of  belief  or  confes 
sion  ;  as  a  man  may  well  think,  considering  the 
chief  doctors  of  their  church  were  the  poets  :  and 
the  reason  was,  because  the  heathen  gods  were  no 
jealous  gods,  but  were  glad  to  be  admitted  into 
part,  as  they  had  reason.  Neither  did  they  re 
spect  the  pureness  of  heart,  so  they  might  have 
external  honour  and  rites. 

But  out  of  these  two  do  result  and  issue  four 
main  branches  of  divinity ;  faith,  manners,  litur 
gy,  and  government.  Faith  containeth  the  doc 
trine  of  the  nature  of  God,  of  the  attributes  of 
God,  and  of  the  works  of  God.  The  nature  of  i 


God  consisteth  of  three  persons  in  unity  of  God 
head.  The  attributes  of  God  are  either  common 
to  the  Deity,  or  respective  to  the  persons.  The 
works  of  God  summary  are  two,  that  of  the  crea 
tion,  and  that  of  the  redemption ;  and  both  the.^e 
works,  as  in  total  they  appertain  to  the  unity  of 
the  Godhead,  so  in  their  parts  they  refer  to  the 
three  persons  :  that  of  the  creation,  in  the  mass 
of  the  matter,  to  the  Father ;  in  the  disposition 
of  the  form,  to  the  Son ;  and  in  the  continuance 
and  conservation  of  the  being,  to  the  Holy  Spirit: 
so  that  of  the  redemption,  in  the  election  and 
counsel,  to  the  Father;  in  the  whole  act  and  con 
summation,  to  the  Son ;  and  in  the  application, 
to  the  Holy  Spirit;  for  by  the  Holy  Ghost  was 
Christ  conceived  in  flesh,  and  by  the  Holy  Ghost 
are  the  elect  regenerate  in  spirit.  This  work  like 
wise  we  consider  either  effectually,  in  the  elect; 
or  privately,  in  the  reprobate ;  or  according  to  ap 
pearance,  in  the  visible  church. 

For  Manners,  the  doctrine  thereof  is  contained 
in  the  law,  which  discloseth  sin.  The  law  itself 
is  divided,  according  to  the  edition  thereof,  into 
the  law  of  nature,  the  law  moral,  and  the  law  po 
sitive  ;  and  according  to  the  style,  into  negative 
and  affirmative,  prohibitions  and  commandments. 
Sin,  in  the  matter  and  subject  thereof,  is  divided 
according  to  the  commandments ;  in  the  form 
thereof,  it  referreth  to  the  three  persons  in  Deity : 
sins  of  infirmity  against  the  Father,  whose  more 
special  attribute  is  power;  sins  of  ignorance 
against  the  Son,  whose  attribute  is  wisdom  ;  and 
sins  of  malice  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  whose  at 
tribute  is  grace  or  love.  In  the  motions  of  it,  it 
either  moveth  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left ; 
either  to  blind  devotion,  or  to  profane  and  liber 
tine  transgression;  either  in  imposing  restraint 
where  God  granted!  liberty,  or  in  taking  liberty 
where  God  irnposeth  restraint.  In  the  degrees 
and  progress  of  it,  it  divideth  itself  into  thought, 
word,  or  act.  And  in  this  part  I  commend  much 
the  deducing  of  the  law  of  God  to  cases  of  con 
science  ;  for  that  I  take  indeed  to  be  a  breaking, 
and  not  exhibiting  whole  of  the  bread  of  life. 
But  that  which  quickeneth  both  these  doctrines 
of  faith  and  manners,  is  the  elevation  and  consent 
of  the  heart :  whereunto  appertain  books  of  ex- 
lortation,  holy  meditation,  Christian  resolution, 
and  the  like. 

For  the  Liturgy  or  service,  it  consisteth  of  the 
reciprocal  acts  between  God  and  man :  which,  on 
the  part  of  God,  are  the  preaching  of  the  word, 
and  the  sacraments,  which  are  seals  to  the  cove 
nant,  or  as  the  visible  word ;  and  on  the  part  of 
man,  invocation  of  the  name  of  God  ;  and  under 
he  law,  sacrifices ;  which  were  as  visible  prayers 
or  confessions  :  but  now  the  adoration  being  "  in 
spiritu  et  veritate,"  there  remaineth  only  "vituli 
abiorum;"  although  the  use  of  holy  vows  of 
.hankfulness  and  retribution  may  be  accounted, 
also  as  sealed  petitions. 


244 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


And  for  the  Government  of  the  church,  it  con- 
sisteth  of  the  patrimony  of  the  church,  the  fran 
chises  of  the  church,  and  the  offices  and  jurisdic 
tions  of  the  church,  and  the  laws  of  the  church 
directing  the  whole ;  all  which  have  two  consi 
derations,  the  one  in  themselves,  the  other  how  they 
stand  compatible  and  agreeable  to  the  civil  estate. 

This  matter  of  divinity  is  handled  either  in 
form  of  instruction  of  truth,  or  in  form  of  confu 
tation  of  falsehood.  The  declinations  from  reli 
gion,  besides  the  privative,  which  is  atheism,  and 
the  branches  thereof,  are  three ;  heresies,  idola 
try,  and  witchcraft ;  heresies,  when  we  serve  the 
true  God  with  a  false  worship ;  idolatry,  when  we 
worship  false  gods,  supposing  them  to  be  true; 
and  witchcraft,  when  we  adore  false  gods,  know 
ing  them  to  be  wicked  and  false  :  for  so  your  ma 
jesty  doth  excellently  well  observe,  that  witch 
craft  is  the  height  of  idolatry.  And  yet  we  see 
though  these  be  true  degrees,  Samuel  teacheth  us 
that  they  are  all  of  a  nature,  when  there  is  once  a 
receding  from  the  word  of  God  ;  for  so  he  saith, 
"  Quasi  peccatum  ariolandi  est  repugnare,  et  quasi 
scelus  idololatriae  nolle  acquiescere." 

These  things  I  have  passed  over  so  briefly, 
because  I  can  report  no  deficiency  concerning 
them  :  for  I  can  find  no  space  or  ground  that  lieth 
vacant  and  unsown  in  the  matter  of  divinity;  so 
diligent  have  men  been,  either  in  sowing  of  good 
seed,  or  in  sowing  of  tares. 

THUS  have  I  made  as  it  were  a  small  Globe  of 


the  Intellectual  World,  as  truly  and  faithfully  as 
I  could  discover ;  with  a  note  and  description  of 
those  parts  which  seem  to  me  not  constantly  occu- 
pate,  or  not  well  converted  by  the  labour  of  man. 
In  which,  if  I  have  in  any  point  receded  from  that 
which  is  commonly  received,  it  hath  been  with  a 
purpose  of  proceeding  in  melius,  and  notinaliud; 
a  mind  of  amendment  and  proficience,  and  not  of 
change  and  difference.  For  I  could  not  be  true 
and  constant  to  the  argument  I  handle,  if  I  were 
not  willing  to  go  beyond  others;  but  yet  not 
more  willing  than  to  have  others  go  beyond  me 
again :  which  may  the  better  appear  by  this,  that 
I  have  propounded  my  opinions  naked  and  un 
armed,  not  seeking  to  preoccupate  the  liberty  of 
men's  judgments  by  confutations.  For  in  any 
thing  which  is  well  set  down,  I  am  in  good  hope, 
that  if  the  first  reading  move  an  objection,  the 
second  reading  will  make  an  answer.  And  in 
those  things  wherein  I  have  erred,  I  am  sure  I 
have  not  prejudiced  the  right  by  litigious  argu 
ments  ;  which  certainly  have  this  contrary  effect 
and  operation,  that  they  add  authority  to  error, 
and  destroy  the  authority  of  that  which  is  well 
invented :  for  question  is  an  honour  and  prefer 
ment  to  falsehood,  as  on  the  other  side  it  is  a  re 
pulse  to  truth.  But  the  errors  I  claim  and  chal 
lenge  to  myself  as  mine  own:  the  good,  if  any 
be,  is  due  "tanquam  adeps  sacrificii,"  to  be  in 
censed  to  the  honour,  first  of  the  Divine  Majesty, 
and  next  of  your  majesty,  to  whom  on  earth  I  am 
most  bounden. 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


NOTE  A. 
Referring  to  page  138.    ** 

OF  ine  miseries  attendant  upon  this  doctrine  of  stooping  to 
occasions,  Bacon  was,  perhaps,  a  sad  instance.  It  may  be 
true,  to  use  the  words  of  old  Fuller.  "To  blame  are  they 
whose  minds  may  seem  to  be  made  of  one  entire  bone  with 
out  any  joints ;  they  cannot  bend  at  all,  but  stand  as  stiffly  in 
things  of  pure  indifferency,  as  in  matters  of  absolute  neces 
sity  :"  but  how  distant  is  this  inflexibility  in  trifles,  from  the 
stooping  to  occasions  recommended  by  Bacon. —  (See  page 
169.) 

How  unlike  to  Solon !  who,  when  JEsnp  said  to  him,  "  O 
Solon!  either  we  must  not  come  to  princes,  or  else  we  must 
seek  to  please  and  content  them,"  answered,  "Either  we 
must  not  come  to  princes  at  all,  or  else  we  must  needs  tell 
them  truly  and  counsel  them  for  the  best/' — How  unlike  to 
Seneca  speaking  to  Nero!'"  Suffer  me  to  stay  here  a  little 
longer  with  thee,  not  to  flatter  thine  ear,  for  this  is  not  my 
custom ;  1  had  rather  offend  thee  by  truth,  than  please  thee 
by  flattery." 

There  is  in  this  part  of  the  work,  (see  page  169,)  an  ob 
servation  upon  dedications,  which,  except  by  this  doctrine  of 
the  necessity  of  stooping  to  occasions,  it  seems  difficult  to  re 
concile  with  Bacon's  dedication  to  the  king.  Some  allowance 
may,  possibly,  be  made  for  the  exuberance  of  expression  with 


which  dedications  at  that  time  abounded,  and,  secundum  ma 
jus  et  minus,  will  at  all  times  abound :  epistles  dedicatory 
and  epitaphs,  being,  it  is  said,  the  proper  places  for  pane 
gyric. — See  as  specimens,  Dryden's  dedications  to  the  Earl 
of  Abingdon  and  to  the  Duke  of  Ormond.  See  Locke's  dedi 
cation  to  Lord  Pembroke  of  his  Essay  on  the  Human  Under 
standing,  in  which  there  are  some  passages  in  the  same  style 
of  adulation.  See  also  Addison's  dedication  to  the  Earl  of 
Wharton,  in  Spectator,  vol.  v. — To  Mr.  Metheuen,  vol.  vii., 
and  to  Lord  Somers,  vol.  i.  See  also  Middleton's  dedica 
tion  of  his  Life  of  Cicero  to  Lord  Hervey,  in  which  he,  as 
usual,  ascribing  every  virtue  to  his  patron,  says,  "I  could 
wish  to  see  the  dedicatory  style  reduced  to  that  classical  sim 
plicity,  with  which  the  ancient  writers  used  to  present  their 
books  to  their  friends  or  patrons."  Some  allowance  too 
may  be  made  for  the  style  in  which  princes  have,  at  all  times, 
been  addressed,  and  particularly  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth 
and  James,  when  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  after  the  queen's  de 
parture  from  Gorhambury,  caused  the  door  to  be  closed  that 
no  other  step  might  pass  the  same  threshold  ;  and  when  a 
dedication  to  the  king  in  the  style  of  the  dedication  of  the 
Spanish  Grammar  of  the  Academy,  "La  Academia  Castella- 
na,"  which  begins  simply  Senor,  and  ends  only  Senor,  would 
have  partaken  almost  of  the  nature  of  treason.  Some  al 
lowance  may  be  made  for  Bacon's  anxiety  that  his  work 
should  be  protected  by  th«  king,  from  a  supposition  that  this 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


245 


protection  was  necessary  for  the  advancement  of  knowledge. 
In  his  letter  of  the  12th  of  October,  1620,  to  the  king,  he  says, 
speaking  of  the  Novurn  Organum  :  "  This  work  is  but  a  new 
body  of  clay,  whereunto  your  majesty,  by  your  countenance 
and  protection,  may  breathe  life.  And,  to  tell  your  majesty 
truly  what  I  think,  I  account  your  favour  may  be  to  this  work 
as  much  as  an  hundred  years'  time  :  for  I  am  persuaded,  the 
work  will  gain  upon  men's  minds  in  ages,  but  your  gracing  it 
may  make  it  take  hold  more  swiftly ;  which  I  would  be  very 
glad  of,  it  being  a  work  meant,  not  for  praise  or  glory,  but  for 
practice,  and  the  good  of  men." 

If  this  opinion  of  the  necessity  of  the  king's  protection,  or 
of  any  patronage,  for  the  progress  of  knowledge,  be  now 
supposed  a  weakness  :  if  in  these  times,  and  in  this  enlighten 
ed  country,  truth  has  nothing  to  dread:  if  Galileo  may  now, 
without  fear  of  the  inquisition,  assert  that  the  earth  moves 
round;  or  if  an  altar  is  raised  to  the  "unknown  God,"  he 
who  is  ignorantly  worshipped,  we  may  declare ;  let  us  not 
be  unmindful  of  the  present  state  of  the  press  in  other  coun 
tries,  or  forget  that,  although  Bacon  saw  a  little  ray  of  distant 
light,  yet'that  it  was  seen  from  far,  the  refraction  of  truth  yet 
below  the  horizon.  Let  us  not  forget  that  he  had  neither 
schools  nor  disciples.  <;  We,"  he  says,  "judge  also,  that 
mankind  may  conceive  some  hope  from  our  example,  which 
we  offer  not  by  way  of  ostentation,  but  because  it  may  be 
useful.  If  any  one,  therefore,  should  despair,  let  him  con 
sider  a  man  as  much  employed  in  civil  affairs  as  any  other  of 
his  age,  a  man  of  no  great  share  of  health,  who  must  there 
fore  have  lost  much  time,  and  yet,  in  his  undertaking,  he  is 
the  first  that  leads  the  way,  unassisted  by  any  mortal,  and 
steadfastly  entering  the  true  path  that  was  absolutely  untrod 
before,  and  submitting  his  mind  to  things,  may  thus  have 
somewhat  advanced  the  design."  Let  us,  remembering  this, 
not  withhold  from  him  the  indulgence  which  he  solicits  for 
the  infirmities  from  which  even  philosophy  is  not  exempt. 
"  I  am  not  ignorant  what  it  is  that  I  do  now  move  and  at 
tempt,  nor  insensible  of  mine  own  weakness  to  sustain  my 
purpose  ;  but  my  hope  is  that  if  my  extreme  love  to  learning 
carry  me  too  far,  I  may  obtain  the  excuse  of  affection ;  for 
'that  it  is  not  granted  to  man  to  love  and  to  be  wise.'  " 

In  addition  to  these  reasons,  the  explanation  to  the  pene 
tration  and  judgment  of  the  reader  in  the  body  of  the  treatise 
of  the  object  of  the  address  with  which  it  opens,  ought  not 
to  be  forgotten ;  and  some  caution  ought,  it  should  seem,  to 
be  used  in  not  suffering  our  judgments  to  be  warped  when 
examining  a  charge  of  indignity  offered  by  such  a  philosopher 
to  philosophy  ;  but,  after  every  caution  which  can  in  justice 
be  used,  and  after  every  allowance  which  can  in  charity  be 
made,  it  cannot  but  be  wished  that  this  work,  which  will  be 
consecrated  to  the  remotest  posterity  for  its  many  excellen 
cies,  had  not  in  any  part  or  for  any  purpose,  been  wanting  in 
that  dignity  for  which,  as  a  whole,  it  stands  so  proudly  emi 
nent. 

NOTE  B. 
Referring  to  page  139.. 

As  to  prevalence  of  delicate  learning. 

"After  the  barbarism  of  the  feudal  times,  the  only  polite 
ness  of  conversation,  as  the  only  knowledge,  was  among  the 
clergy.  Tournaments,  hunting,  hawking,  &c.  made  the  sole 
occupation  of  the  nobility.  Upon  the  revival  of  the  humanity 
studies,  they  were  eagerly  followed,  to  polish  as  well  as  to 
inform.  They  answered  that  end  which  keeping  good  com 
pany  does  at  this  day;  they  gave  an  habitual  elegance  to  the 
conversation  and  sentiments  of  those  who  cultivated  them, 
and  were  therefore,  at  that  time,  of  much  more  positive  im 
port  than  at  present,  or  even  in  Bacon's  time.  As  society 
became  improved,  and  its  intercourse  became  more  frequent, 
the  nicety  and  time  bestowed  in  these  pursuits  became  a  fri 
volous  vanity :  the  end  was  otherwise  answered.  Hence 
may  t»f  deduced  their  gradual  decline,  till  at  length  they  serve 
novf  for  the  first  institutions  of  schools,  and,  perhaps,  for  the 
occasional  amusement  of  a  few  persons  of  just  taste,  who 
rend  them  not  for  information,  but  through  indolence. 

"Of  the  renovation  of  the  humanity  studies,  in  Europe, 
particularly  the  Greek  language,  vid.  Hody  de  Greeds  illustri- 
bits,  fcc.,  \vhn  has  given  the  lives  of  Leon.  Pilatus,  who  was 
master  to  Boccace,  of  Crysolorus,  Gaza,  Trapezuntius,  Bes- 
earion,  and  others,  who  passed  into  Europe,  and  lectured  on 
the  Greets  language,  both  before  and  after  the  taking  of  Con 
stantinople. 


"  Among  the  promoters  of  frivolous  studies,  may  be  reckoned 
the  modern  Latin  poets,  of  various  nations  :  the  making  verses 
in  a  dead  language  was  the  prevalent  taste  and  occupation 
of  the  learned  world,  at  the  revival  of  letters,  and  produced 
almost  infinite  attempts  of  an  inferior  order,  for  a  very  few 
good  poets.  Those,  in  fact,  who  possessed  the  powers  of 
imagination  and  judgment,  displayed  them  successfully  in 
whatever  language  they  wrote  :  as  Politan,  Fracastilo,  Vida, 
Criton,  (whose  two  remaining  poems  have  great  merit,) 
Mantuan,  and  some  others.  The  rest  attained  the  language, 
and  were  elegantly  dull.  Such  were  Vaniere  and  Rapin  the 
Jesuits,  Barbeirni,  (D'Urban,)  and  even  Casimir  with  some 
exceptions. — Anon.  MSS.  Notes. 

NOTE  C. 
Referring  to  page  139. 

In  the  Novum  Organum  this  sentiment  is  repeated.  "  The 
opinions  which  men  entertain  of  antiquity,  is  a  very  idle 
thing,  and  almost  incongruous  to  the  word ;  for  the  old  age 
and  length  of  days  of  the  world,  should  in  reality  be  accounted 
antiquity,  and  ought  to  be  attributed  to  our  own  times,  not  to 
the  youth  of  the  world,  which  it  enjoyed  among  the  ancients : 
for  that  age,  though  with  respect  to  us  it  be  ancient  and 
greater,  yet,  with  regard  to  the  world,  it  was  new  and  less 
And  as  we  justly  expect  a  greater  knowledge  of  things,  and 
a  riper  judgment,  from  a  man  of  years  than  from  a  youth,  on 
account  of  the  greater  experience,  and  the  greater  variety 
and  number  of  things  seen,  heard,  and  thought  of,  by  the 
person  in  years;  so  might  much  greater  matters  be  justly  ex 
pected  from  the  present  age,  (if  it  knew  but  its  own  strength, 
and  would  make  trial  and  apply,)  than  from  former  times ; 
as  this  is  the  more  advanced  age  of  the  world,  and  now  en 
riched  and  furnished  with  infinite  experiments  and  observa 
tions." 

Sir  Henry  Wotton,  in  his  answer  to  Bacon's  presentation 
of  the  Novum  Organum,  says,  "Of  your  Novum  Organum  I 
shall  speak  more  hereafter ;  but  I  have  learnt  thus  much 
already  by  it,  that  we  are  extremely  mistaken  in  the  compu 
tation  of  antiquity  by  searching  it  backwards ;  because,  in 
deed,  the  first  times  were  the  youngest." 

NOTE  I). 
Referring  to  page  139. 

Bacon,  in  various  parts  of  his  works,  expresses  his  disap 
probation  of  method  and  arrangement,  but  acknowledges  the 
necessity  of  attention  to  style,  for  the  purpose  of  rendering 
philosophy  acceptable  to  heedless  or  unwilling  ears. — See 
page  214  of  this  volume,  where  he  explains  the  preference  of 
writing  in  aphorisms  to  methodical  writing :  for  as  to  writing 
in  aphorisms,  he  says  ;  1st.  It  trieth  the  writer  whether  he  be 
superficial  or  solid.  2d.  Methods  are  more  fit  to  win  consent 
or  belief,  but  less  fit  to  point  to  action.  3d.  Aphorisms  gene 
rate  inquiry.  And  again,  see  page  241,  when  speaking  of  in 
terpretation  of  Scripture,  he  says, 

"It  is  true  that  knowledges  reduced  into  exact  methods 
have  a  show  of  strength,  in  that  each  part  seemeth  to  support 
and  sustain  the  other ;  but  this  is  more  satisfactory  than  sub 
stantial:  like  unto  buildings  which  stand  by  architecture  and 
compaction,  which  are  more  subject  to  ruin  than  those  which 
are  built  more  strong  in  their  several  parts  though  less  com 
pacted." 

And  again  he  says, 

"The  worst  and  most  absurd  sort  of  triflers  are  those  who 
have  pent  the  whole  art  into  strict  methods  and  narrow  sys 
tems,  which  men  commonly  cry  up  for  the  sake  of  their  regu 
larity  and  style. 

"  Knowledge  is  uttered  to  men  in  a  form,  as  if  every  thing 
were  finished  :  for  it  is  reduced  into  arts  and  methods  which 
in  their  divisions  do  seem  to  include  all  that  may  be.  And 
how  weakly  soever  the  parts  are  filled,  yet  they  carry  the 
show  and  reason  of  a  total;  and  thereby  the  writings  of  some 
received  authors  go  for  the  very  act;  whereas  antiquity  used 
to  deliver  the  knowledge  which  the  mind  of  man  had  gathered 
in  observations,  aphorisms,  or  short  or  disposed  sentences,  or 
small  tractates  of  some  parts  that  they  had  diligently  medi 
tated  and  laboured;  which  did  incite  men  both  to  ponder  that 
which  was  invented  and  to  add  and  supply  farther." 

Rawley,  in  his  preface  to  the  Sylva  Sylvarum,says,  "I  have 
heard  his  lordship  often  say,  that,  if  hee  should  have  served 
the  glory  of  his  owne  name,  hee  had  beene  better  not  to  have 
published  this  naturall  history :  for  it  may  seeme  an  indigested 


246 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


heape  of  particulars,  and  cannot  have  that  lustre,  which 
bookes  cast  into  methods  have  :  but  that  he  resolved  to  pre- 
ferre  the  goode  of  men,  and  that  which  might  best  secure  it, 
before  any  thing  that  might  have  relation  to  himselfe.  I  have 
heard  his  lordship  say  also,  that  one  great  reason,  why  hee 
would  not  put  these  particulars  into  any  exact  method 
(I  hough  hee  that  looketh  attentively  into  them  shall  finde  that 
they  have  a  secret  order)  was,  because  he  conceived  that 
other  men  would  not  thinke  that  they  could  doe  the  like  ;  and 
so  goe  on  with  a  further  collection  ;  which  if  the  method  had 
beene  exact,  many  would  have  despaired  to  attaine  by  imita 
tion.'  " 

His  opinion  of  the  necessity  of  attention  to  style  is  stated 
in  pages  109, 170  of  this  work,  in  his  dissertation  upon  Delicate 
Learning.  To  these  opinions  of  Bacon's,  we  are  most  pro 
bably  indebted  for  the  symmetry  and  beauty  in  the  Advance 
ment  of  Learning.  They  have  been,  as  Bacon  foresaw  they 
would  be,  causes,  and  only  temporary  causes,  of  the  preference 
which  has  been  given  to  the  Advancement  of  Learning.  He 
was  too  well  acquainted  with  what  he  terms  the  idols  of  the 
mind  to  be  diverted  from  truth  either  by  the  love  of  order  or 
by  the  love  of  beauty.  He  knew  the  charms  of  theories  and 
systems,  and  the  necessity  of  adopting  them  to  insure  a  fa 
vourable  reception  for  abstruse  works,  but  he  was  not  misled 
by  them.  It  did  not  require  his  sagacity  to  predict  such  ob 
servations  as,  two  centuries  after  his  death,  have  been  made 
upon  his  classification  by  the  philosophers  of  our  times.  The 
noble  temple  which  he  raised  may  now,  perhaps,  be  destroy 
ed  and  rejected  of  the  builders  altogether,  but  though  it  should 
be  levelled  to  the  ground,  the  genius  of  true  philosophy  will 
stand  discovered  among  the  ruins. 

Professor  Stewart,  after  various  observations  upon  the  ar 
rangements  of  Bacon  and  D'Alembert,  says:  "If  the  fore 
going  strictures  be  well  founded,  it  seems  to  follow,  that  not 
only  the  endeavours  of  Bacon  and  D'Alembert  to  classify  the 
sciences  arid  arts  according  to  a  logical  division  of  our  facul 
ties,  is  altogether  unsatisfactory,  but  that  every  future  attempt 
of  the  same  kind  may  be  expected  to  be  liable  to  similar  ob 
jections." — Bentham  in  his  Chrestomathia,  speaking  of  Ba 
con's  arrangement  says,  "  Of  the  sketch  given  by  D'Alembert 
the  leading  principles  are,  as  he  himself  has  been  careful  to 
declare,  taken  from  that  given  by  Lord  Bacon.  Had  it  been 
entirely  his  own,  it  would  have  been,  beyond  comparison,  a 
better  one.  For  the  age  of  Bacon,  Bacon's  was  a  precocious 
and  precious  fruit  of  the  union  of  learning  with  science  :  for 
the  age  of  D'Alembert,  it  will,  it  is  believed,  be  found  but  a 
poor  production,  below  the  author  as  well  as  the  age." — The 
Chrestomathia  then  contains  various  objections  to  these  sys 
tems  of  arrangement,  and  suggests  another  system  which, 
perhaps,  after  the  lapse  of  two  more  centuries,  will  share 
the  same  fate.  No  man  was,  for  his  own  sake,  less  attached 
to  system  or  ornament  than  Lord  Bacon.  A  plain,  unadorned 
style  in  aphorisms,  in  which  the  Novum  Organum  is  written, 
is,  he  invariably  states,  the  proper  style  for  philosophy 

NOTE  E. 

Referring  to  page  140. 

Amongst  the  many  "idols  of  the  understanding,"  as  they 
are  termed  by  Bacon  ;  amongst  the  many  tendencies  of  the 
mind  to  warp  us  from  truth,  the  most  subtle  seem  to  be  those 
which  emanate  from  the  love  of  truth  itself,  undermining  the 
understanding,  as  ruin  ever  works,  on  tho  side  of  our  virtues. 
The  love  of  truth,  the  desire  to  know  the  causes  of  things,  is, 
perhaps,  one  of  our  strongest  passions  ;  and,  like  all  strong 
passion,  it  has  a  tendency,  unless  restrained,  to  hurry  us  into 
excess.  From  an  impatience  to  possess  this  treasure  we  are 
induced  to  assent  hastily,  and  accept  counterfeits  as  sterling 
coin  : — we  are  induced  to  generalize  hastily,  and  to  abandon 
universality,  to  suppose  that  we  have  attained  the  truth  in 
all  the  extent  in  which  it  exists.  The  idols  of  the  under 
standing  from  the  love  of  truth  which  generate  haste,  seem 
therefore  to  be 

1.  Hasty  Assent. 

2.  Hasty  Generalization. 

3.  Abandoning  Universality. 

This  note  is  upon  "Abandoning  universality,"  the  nature 
of  which  is  mentioned  in  page  173  of  this  work,  and  in  pages 
193,  191,  and  201.  And  in  the  treatise  "  De  Augmentis,"  there 
is  an  observation  founded  upon  this  doctrine  which  is  not 
contained  in  the  Advancement  oif  Learning.  Speaking  of 
astronomy,  he  says :  "  Astronomy,  such  as  now  it  is  made. 


may  well  be  counted  in  the  number  of  Mathematical  Arts, 
not  without  great  diminution  of  the  dignity  thereof;  seeing 
it  ought  rather  (if  it  would  maintain  its  own  right)  be  consti 
tuted  a  branch,  and  that  most  principal  of  Natural  Philosophy 
For  whoever  shall  reject  the  feigned  divorces  or  superlunary 
and  sublunary  bodies;  and  shall  intentively  observe  the  ap 
petencies  of  matter,  and  the  most  universal  passions,  (which 
in  either  globe  are  exceeding  potent,  and  transverberate  the 
universal  nature  of  things,)  he  shall  receive  clear  information 
concerning  celestial  matters  from  the  things  seen  here  with 
us :  and  contrariwise  from  those  motions  which  are  practised 
in  heaven  ;  he  shall  learn  many  observations  which  now  are 
latent,  touching  the  motions  of  bodies  here  below  :  not  only 
so  far  as  these  inferior  motions  are  moderated  by  superior, 
but  in  regard  they  have  a  mutual  intercourse  by  passions 
common  to  them  both."  (See  the  mode  by  which  Newton  is 
said  first  to  have  thought  of  the  influence  of  the  laws  of 
gravity.) 

So,  in  another  work,  "Descriptio  Globi  intellectualis,"  he 
says,  "  We  must,  however,  openly  profess,  that  our  hope  of 
discovering  the  truth,  with  regard  to  the  celestial  bodies,  de 
pends  not  solely  upon  such  a  history,  raised  after  our  own 
manner ;  but  much  more  upon  the  observation  of  the  common 
properties,  or  the  passions  and  appetites  of  the  matter  of  both 
globes.  For  as  to  the  separation  that  is  supposed  betwixt  the 
tttherial  and  sublunary  bodies,  it  seems  to  us  no  more  than  a 
fiction,  and  a  degree  of  superstition,  mixed  with  rashness  : 
for  it  is  certain,  that  numerous  effects,  as  expansion,  contrac 
tion,  impression,  yielding,  collection,  attraction,  repulsion, 
assimilation,  union,  and  the  like,  have  place,  not  only  here 
upon  the  surface,  but  also  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  re 
gions  of  the  heavens.  And  no  more  faithful  guide  can  be 
used  or  consulted,  than  these  properties  of  matter,  to  conduct 
the  understanding  to  the  depths  of  the  earth,  which  are  abso 
lutely  not  seen  at  all,  and  to  the  sublime  regions  of  the  hea 
vens,  which  are  generally  seen,  but  falsely  ;  on  account  of 
their  great  distance,  the  refraction  of  the  air,  the  imperfection 
of  glasses,  &c.  The  ancients,  therefore,  excellently  repre 
sented  Proteus  as  capable  of  various  shapes,  and  a  most  ex 
traordinary  prophet,  who  knew  all  things,  both  the  past,  the 
future,  and  the  secrets  of  the  present.  For  he  who  knows 
the  universal  properties  of  matter,  and  by  that  means  under 
stands  what  may  be,  cannot  but  know  what  has  been,  is,  and 
shall  be  the  general  state  and  issue  of  things.  Our  chiefest 
hope  and  dependence  in  the  consideration  of  the  celestiaJ 
bodies,  is  therefore  placed  in  physical  reasons ;  though  not 
such  as  are  commonly  so  called ;  but  those  laws,  with  regard 
to  the  appetites  of  matter,  which  no  diversity  of  place  or  re 
gion  can  abolish,  break  through,  disturb,  or  alter." 

See  also  the  fable  of  Proteus,  in  his  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients. 
See  also  the  beginning  of  the  tenth  century  of  the  Sylva  Syl- 
varuin;  and  in  his  Aphorisms  concerning  the  composure  of 
History,  he  says :  "  In  the  hi&tory  which  we  require,  and 
purpose  in  our  mind,  above  all  things  it  must  be  looked  after, 
that  its  extent  be  large,  and  that  it  be  made  after  tiie  measure 
of  the  universe,  for  the  world  ought  not  to  be  tied  into  the 
straitness  of  the  understanding  (which  hitherto  hath  been 
done)  but  our  intellect  should  be  stretched  and  widened,  so  as 
to  be  capable  of  the  image  of  the  world,  such  as  we  fijid  it  ; 
for  the  custom  of  respecting  but  a  few  things,  and  passing 
sentence  according  to  that  paucity  and  scantness  hath  spoiled 
all." 

Upon  the  same  principle,  he  says,  I  think  in  bis  history  of 
Life  and  Death,  "  All  tangible  bodies  contain  a  spirit  covev 
ed  over,  enveloped  with  the  grosser  body.  There  is  no  known 
body,  in  the  upper  parts  of  the  earth,  without  its  spirit; 
whether  it  be  generated  by  the  attenuating  and  concocting 
power  of  the  celestial  warmth,  or  otherwise  :  for  the  pores 
of  tangible  bodies  are  not  a  vacuum;  but  either  contain  air, 
or  the  peculiar  spirit  of  the  substance,  and  this  not  a  vis,  an 
energy,  a  soul,  or  a  fiction ;  but  a  real,  subtile,  and  invisible 
body,  circumscribed  by  place  and  dimension."  "  Such  was 
the  language  of  Bacon  two  centuries  ago;  the  same  senti 
ments  have  lately  appeared  in  another  form,  in  the  works  of 
one  of  our  modern  poets. 

"To  every  form  of  being  is  assigned 
An  active  principle,  howe'er  removed 
From  sense  and  observation  ;  it  subsists 
In  all  things,  in  all  natures,  in  the  stars 
Of  azure  heaven,  the  unenduring  clouds, 
In  flower  and  Uee,  and  every  pebbly  S.OD« 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


247 


That  paves  the  brooks,  the  stationary  rocks, 
The  moving  waters  and  the  invisible  air. 
Whate'er  exists  hath  properties  that  spread 
Beyond  itself,  communicating  good, 
A  simple  blessing  or  with  evil  mixed : 
Spirit  that  knows  no  insulated  spot, 
No  chasm,  no  solitude,  from  link  to  link 
It  circulates  the  soul  of  all  the  worlds." 

Excursion,  page  387. 

NOTE  F. 
Referring  to  page  140. 

To  this  tendency  to  hasty  assent,  which  is  one  of  the  idols 
of  the  understanding,  originating  in  a  love  of  truth,  (see  ante 
note  E)  it  may  seem  that  Bacon  ought  to  have  traced  the 
evils  of  credulity,  which  he  has  classed  under  Fantastical 
Learning,  (page  171.)  Bacon,  also  says, 

"  The  mind  of  man  doth  wonderfully  endeavour  and  ex 
tremely  covet  that  it  may  not  be  pensile  :  but  that  it  may  light 
upon  something  fixed  and  immoveable,  on  which,  as  on  a  fir 
mament,  it  may  support  itself  in  its  swift  motions  and  disqui 
sitions.  Aristotle  endeavours  to  prove  that  in  all  motions  of 
bodies,  there  is  some  point  quiescent :  and  very  elegantly  ex 
pounds  the  fable  of  Atlas,  who  stood  fixed  and  bare  up  the 
heavens  from  falling,  to  be  meant  of  the  poles  of  the  world, 
whereupon  the  conversion  is  accomplished.  In  like  manner, 
men  do  earnestly  seek  to  have  some  atlas  or  axis  of  their  co 
gitations  within  themselves,  which  may,  in  some  measure, 
moderate  the  fluctuations  and  wheelings  of  the  understanding, 
fearing  it  may  be  the  falling  of  their  heaven." 

He  says  also, 

"  We  are  not  so  eager  as  to  reap  moss  for  corn :  or  the  ten 
der  blade  for  ears  :  but  wait  with  patience  the  ripeness  of  the 
harvest." 

And  again, 

Beware  of  too  forward  maturation  of  knowledge,  which 
makes  man  bold  and  confident,  and  rather  wants  great  pro 
ceeding  than  causeth  it." 

"  Such  a  rash  impotency  and  intemperance  doth  possess  and 
infatuate  the  whole  race  of  man  :  that  they  do  not  only  pre 
sume  upon  and  promise  to  themselves  what  is  repugnant  in 
nature  to  be  performed  :  but  also  are  confident  that  they  are 
able  to  conquer,  even  at  their  pleasure,  and  that  by  way  of 
recreation,  the  most  difficult  passages  of  nature  without  trou 
ble  or  travail." 

"  Stay  a  little,  that  you  may  make  an  end  the  sooner,"  was 
a  favourite  maxim  of  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon. 

In  Locke's  Conduct  of  the  Understanding,  there  are  some 
observations  upon  the  evils  of  haste  in  the  acquisition  of 
knowledge,  in  departing  from  the  old  maxim  that  "the  sinews 
of  wisdom  are  slowness  of  belief."  So  true  it  is, 

"We  must  take  root  downwards,  if  we  would  bear  fruit 
upwards  ;  if  we  would  bear  fruit  and  continue  to  bear  fruit, 
when  the  foodful  plants  that  stand  straight,  only  because  they 
grew  in  company;  or  whose  slender  service-roots  owe  their 
whole  steadfastness  to  their  entanglement,  have  been  beaten 
down  by  the  continued  rains,  or  whirled  aloft  by  the  sudden 
hurricane." — Coleridge. 

So  true  is  it,  that 

"The  advances  of  nature  are  gradual.  They  are  scarce 
discernible  in  their  motions,  but  only  visible  in  their  issue. 
Nobody  perceives  the  grass  grow  or  the  shadow  move  upon 
the  dial  till  after  some  time  and  leisure  we  reflect  upon  their 
progress." — South. 

NOTE  G. 

Referring  to  page  140. 

This  peccant  humour  of  learning,  "the  delivering  know 
ledge  too  peremptorily,  ought,  it  seems,  to  have  been  referred 
to  delivery  of  knowledge,  where  it  is  more  copiously  treated." 
—See  page  213.) 

NOTE  H. 

Referring  to  page  140. 

This  most  important  part  of  the  conduct  of  the  understand 
ing,  a  consideration  of  the  motives  by  which  we  are  actuated 
in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  may,  as  in  this  beautiful 
passage,  and  in  other  parts  of  Bacon's  works,  be  separated 
into 

1.  A  love  of  excelling. 

2.  A  love  of  excellence. 


Although  the  love  of  excelling  is  the  motive  by  which  in  our 
public  schools,  and  our  universities,  youth  is  stimulated,  and 
is  in  the  common  world  a  very  common  motive  of  action,  yet 
this  intellectual  gladiatorship  does  not  and  never  did  influence 
the  noblest  minds  :  it  is  only  a  temporary  motive,  and  fosters 
bad  passion.  The  love  of  excellence  on  the  other  hand,  is 
powerful  and  permanent,  and  constantly  generates  good  feel 
ing.  That  the  love  of  excelling  docs  not  influence  philosophy,  is 
an  opinion  so  prevalent  that,  assuming  it  to  be  the  motive  by 
which  men  are  generally  induced  to  engage  in  public  life,  it 
has  been  urged  by  politicians  as  an  objection  to  learning, 
"  that  it  doth  divert  men's  travails  from  action  and  business, 
and  bringeth  them  to  a  love  of  leisure  and  privateness."* 
The  error  of  the  supposition  that  the  love  of  excelling  can  in 
fluence  philosophy,  may  be  seen  in  the  nature  of  the  passion, 
in  the  opinions  of  eminent  moralists,  and  in  the  actions  of 
those  illustrious  men,  who,  without  suffering  worldly  dis 
tinctions  to  have  precedence  in  their  thoughts,  are  content 
without  them,  or  with  them,  when  following  in  the  train  of 
their  duty. 

With  respect  to  the  nature  of  the  passion,  it  is  difficult  to  sup 
pose  that  it  can  influence  any  mind,  which  lets  its  hopes  and 
fears  wander  towards  future  and  far  distant  events.  "If  a 
man,"  says  Bacon,  "  meditate  much  upon  the  universal  frame 
of  nature,  the  earth  with  men  upon  it,  (the  divirieness  of  souls 
except,)  will  not  seem  much  other  than  an  ant-hill,  where  as 
some  ants  carry  corn,  and  some  carry  their  young,  and  some  go 
empty, and  allto-and-froa  little  heapof  dust."  So  says  Bishop 
Taylor,  "Whatsoever  tempts  the  pride  and  vanity  of  ambi 
tious  persons  is  not  so  big  as  the  smallest  star  which  we  see 
scattered  in  disorder  and  unregarded  upon  the  pavement  and 
floor  of  heaven.  And  if  we  would  suppose  the  pismires  had 
but  our  understanding,  they  also  would  have  the  method  of  a 
man's  greatness,  and  divide  their  little  mole-hills  into  pro 
vinces  and  exarchats  :  and  if  they  also  grew  as  vitious  and  as 
miserable,  one  of  their  princes  would  lead  an  army  out,  and 
kill  his  neighbour  ants,  that  he  might  reign  over  the  next 
handful  of  a  turf." 

The  same  lesson  may  be  taught  by  a  moment's  self-re 
flection. 

"I  shall  entertain  you,"  Bishop  Taylor,  in  the  preface  to 
his  Holy  Dying,  says,  "in  a  charnel-house,  and  carry  your 
meditation  a  while  into  the  chambers  of  death,  where  you 
shall  find  the  rooms  dressed  up  with  melancholick  arts,  and 
fit  to  converse  with  your  most  retired  thoughts,  which  begin 
with  a  sigh,  and  proceed  in  deep  consideration,  and  end  in  a 
holy  resolution.  The  sight  that  St.  Augustin  most  noted  in 
that  house  of  sorrow  was  the  body  of  Ccesar  clothed  with  all 
the  dishonours  of  corruption  that  you  can  suppose  in  six 
months'  burial." 

"I  have  read  of  a  fair  young  German  gentleman,  who  li 
ving,  often  refused  to  be  pictured,  but  put  off" the  importunity 
of  his  friends'  desire,  by  giving  way  that  after  a  few  days'  bu 
rial,  they  might  send  a  painter  to  his  vault,  and,  if  they  saw 
cause  for  it,  draw  the  image  of  his  death  unto  the  life.  They 
did  so,  and  found  his  face  half  eaten,  and  his  midriff  and 
backbone  full  of  serpents;  and  so  he  stands  pictured  amongst 
his  armed  ancestours  " 

With  respect  to  the  opinions  and  actions  of  eminent  me?i,  Ba 
con  says,  "  It  is  commonly  found  that  men  have  view's  to  fame 
and  ostentation,  sometimes  in  uttering,  and  sometimes  in  cir 
culating  the  knowledge  they  think  they  have  acquired.  But 
for  our  undertaking,  we  judge  it  of  such  a  nature,  that  it  were 
highly  unworthy  to  pollute  it  with  any  degree  of  ambition  or 
affectation ;  as  it  is  an  unavoidable  decree  with  us  ever  to 
retain  our  native  candour  and  simplicity,  and  not  attempt  a 
passage  to  truth  under  the  conduct  of  vanity;  for,  seeking 
real  nature  with  all  her  fruits  about  her,  we  should  think  it  a 
betraying  of  our  trust  to  infect  such  a  subject  either  with  an 
ambitious,  an  ignorant,  or  any  other  faulty  manner  of  treating 
it." 

So  John  Milton  says, 

"I  am  not  speaking  to  the  mercenary  crew  of  false  preten 
ders  to  learning,  but  the  free  and  ingenuous  sort  of  such  n.i 
evidently  were  born  to  study,  and  love  learning  for  itself,  not 
for  lucre,  or  any  other  end,  but  the  service  of  God  and  of 
truth,  and  perhaps  that  lasting  fame  and  perpetuity  of  praise, 
which  God  and  good  men  have  consented  shall  be  the  reward 
of  those  whose  published  labours  advance  the  good  of  man 
kind." 


*  See  page  164  ante. 


248 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


And  Tucker,  in  his  most  valuable  work  on  the  Light  of 
Nature  pursued,  in  his  chapter  on  vanity,  says, 

"  We  find  in  fact  that  the  best  and  greatest  men,  those  who 
have  done  the  most  essential  services  to  mankind,  have  been 
the  most  free  from  the  impulses  of  vanity.  Lycurgus  and 
Solon,  those  two  excellent  lawgivers,  appear  to  have  had 
none  :  Socrates,  the  prime  apostle  of  reason,  Euclid  and  Hip 
pocrates,  had  none  '  whereas  Protagoras  with  his  brother 
sophists,  Diogenes,  Epicurus,  Lucretius,  the  Stoics  who  were 
the  bigots,  and  the  latter  Academies  who  were  the  free 
thinkers  of  antiquity,  were  overrun  with  it.  And  among  the 
moderns,  Boyle,  Newton,  Locke,  have  made  large  improve 
ments  in  the  sciences  without  the  aid  of  vanity  5  while  some 
others  I  could  name,  having  drawn  in  copiously  of  that  in 
toxicating  vapour,  have  laboured  only  to  perplex  and  obscure 
them." 

Thomas  Carlysle,  in  his  Life  of  Schiller,  just  published,  says, 

"The  end  of  literature  was  not,  in  Schiller's  judgment,  to 
amuse  the  idle,  or  to  recreate  the  busy,  by  showing  spectacles 
for  the  imagination,  or  quaint  paradoxes  and  epigrammatic 
disquisitions  for  the  understanding:  least  of  all  was  it  to 
gratify  in  any  shape  the  selfishness  of  its  professors,  to  mi 
nister  to  their  malignity,  their  love  of  money,  or  even  of  fame. 
For  persons  who  degrade  it  to  such  purposes,  the  deepest  con 
tempt  of  which  his  kindly  nature  could  admit  was  at  all  times 
in  store.  'Unhappy  mortal!'  says  he  to  the  literary  trades 
man,  the  man  who  writes  for  gain, '  Unhappy  mortal !  that 
with  science  and  art,  the  noblest  of  all  instruments,  effectest 
arid  attemptest  nothing  more,  than  the  day  drudge  with  the 
meanest !  That  in  the  domain  of  perfect  freedom  bearest 
about  in  thee  the  spirit  of  a  slave  !'  As  Schiller  viewed  it, 
genuine  literature  includes  the  essence  of  philosophy,  religion, 
art;  whatever  speaks  to  the  immortal  part  of  man.  The 
daughter,  she  is  likewise  the  nurse  of  all  that  is  spiritual  and 
exalted  in  our  character.  The  boon  she  bestows  is  truth ; 
truth  not  merely  physical,  political,  economical,  such  as  the 
sensual  man  in  us  is  perpetually  demanding,  ever  ready  to 
reward,  and  likely  in  general  to  find ;  but  the  truth  of  moral 
feeling,  truth  of  taste,  that  inward  truth  in  its  thousand  mo 
difications,  which  only  the  most  ethereal  portion  of  our  na 
ture  can  discern,  but  without  which  that  portion  of  it  lan 
guishes  and  dies,  and  we  are  left  divested  of  our  birthright, 
thenceforward  'of  the  earth  earthy,'  machines  for  earning 
and  enjoying  no  longer  worthy  to  be  called  the  Sons  of  Hea 
ven.  The  treasures  of  literature  are  thus  celestial,  imperish 
able,  beyond  all  price :  with  her  is  the  shrine  of  our  best 
hopes,  the  palladium  of  pure  manhood;  to  be  among  the 
guardians  arid  servants  of  this  is  the  noblest  function  that 
can  be  entrusted  to  a  mortal.  Genius,  even  in  its  faintest 
scintillations,  is  'the  inspired  gift  of  God;'  a  solemn  mandate 
to  its  owner  to  go  forth  and  labour  in  his  sphere,  to  keep 
alive  'the  sacred  fire'  among  his  brethren,  which  the  heavy 
and  polluted  atmosphere  of  this  world  is  forever  threatening 
to  extinguish.  Woe  to  him  if  he  neglect  this  mandate,  if  he 
hear  not  its  small  still  voice !  Woe  to  him  if  he  turn  this 
inspired  gift  into  the  servant  of  his  evil  or  ignoble  passions ; 
if  he  offer  it  on  the  altar  of  vanity,  if  he  sell  it  for  a  piece  of 
money!" 

The  most  apparent  extraordinary  influence  of  ambition, 
which  is  but  a  form  of  the  love  of  excelling,  is  in  the  conduct 
of  Lord  Bacon  in  his  political  life,  who  appears  to  have  been 
attracted  by  worldly  distinction,  although  he  well  knew  its 
emptiness,  and  well  knew  "how  much  it  diverteth  and  inter- 
rupteth  the  prosecution  and  advancement  of  knowledge,  like 
unto  the  golden  ball  thrown  before  Atalanta,  which  while 
she  goeth  aside  and  stoopeth  to  take  up  the  race  is  hindered."* 

That  Bacon's  real  inclination  was  for  contemplation,  ap 
pears  in  the  following  letters  :  "  To  my  Lord  Treasurer  Burgh- 
ley,  (A.  D.  1591.)— "My  lord,  with  as  much  confidence  as 
mine  own  honest  and  faithful  devotion  unto  your  service, 
and  your  honourable  correspondence  unto  me  and  my  poor 
estate  can  breed  in  a  man,  do  I  commend  myself  unto  your 
lordship.  I  wax  now  somewhat  ancient ;  one  and  thirty 
years  is  a  great  deal  of  sand  in  the  hour-glass.  My  health,  I 
thank  God,  I  find  confirmed;  and  I  do  not  fear  that  action 
shall  impair  it ;  because  I  account  my  ordinary  course  of 
study  and  meditation  to  be  more  painful  than  most  parts  of 
action  are.  I  ever  bear  a  mind,  in  some  middle  place  that  I 
could  discharge,  to  serve  her  majesty;  not  as  a  man  born 


*  See  page  174  of  this  volume. 


under  Sol,  that  loveth  honour }  nor  under  Jupiter,  that  loveth 
business,  for  the  contemplative  planet  carrieth  me  away 
wholly:  but  as  a  man  born  under  an  excellent  sovereign, 
that  deserveth  the  dedication  of  all  men's  abilities.  Besides  I 
do  not  find  in  myself  so  much  self-love,  but  that  the  greater 
part  of  my  thoughts  are  to  deserve  well,  if  I  were  able  of  my 
friends,  and  namely  of  your  lordship;  who  being  the  Atlas 
of  this  commonwealth,  the  honour  of  my  house,  and  the  se 
cond  founder  of  my  poor  estate,  I  am  tied  by  all  duties,  both 
of  a  good  patriot,  and  of  an  unworthy  kinsman,  and  of  an 
obliged  servant,  to  employ  whatsoever  I  am,  to  do  you  ser 
vice.  Again  the  meanness  of  my  estate  doth  somewhat  move 
me  !  for  though  I  cannot  accuse  myself,  that  I  am  either  pro 
digal  or  slothful,  yet  my  health  is  not  to  spend,  nor  my  course 
to  get.  Lastly,  I  confess  that  I  have  as  vast  contemplative 
ends  as  I  have  moderate  civil  ends :  for  I  have  taken  all 
knowledge  to  be  my  province;  and  if  I  could  purge  it  of  two 
orts  of  rovers,  whereof  the  one  with  frivolous  disputations, 
confutations,  and  verbosities :  the  other  with  blind  experi 
ments  and  auricular  traditions,  and  impostures,  hath  com 
mitted  so  many  spoils ;  I  hope  I  should  bring  in  industrious 
observations,  grounded  conclusions,  and  profitable  inventions 
and  discoveries;  the  best  state  of  that  province.  This, 
whether  it  be  curiosity,  or  vainglory,  or  nature,  or,  if  one 
take  it  favourably,  philanthropia,  is  so  fixed  in  my  mind,  as  it 
cannot  be  removed.  And  I  do  easily  see,  that  place  of  any 
reasonable  countenance  doth  bring  commandment  of  more 
wits  than  of  a  man's  own  ;  which  is  a  thing  I  greatly  affect. 
And  for  your  lordship,  perhaps  you  shall  not  find  more 
strength  and  less  encounter  in  any  other.  And  if  your  lord 
ship  shall  find  now  or  at  any  time,  that  I  do  seek  or  affect 
any  place,  whereunto  any  that  is  nearer  unto  your  lordship 
shall  be  concurrent,  say  then  that  I  am  a  most  dishonest  man. 
And  if  your  lordship  will  not  carry  me  on,  I  will  not  do  as 
Anaxagoras  did,  who  reduced  himself  with  contemplation 
unto  voluntary  poverty :  but  this  I  will  do,  I  will  sell  the 
nheritance  that  I  have,  and  purchase  some  lease  of  quick 
•evenue,  or  some  office  of  gain,  that  shall  be  executed  by 
deputy,  and  so  give  over  all  care  of  service,  and  becomt 
some  sorry  book-maker,  or  a  true  pioneer  in  that  mine  of 
truth,  which,  he  said,  lay  so  deep.  This  which  I  have  writ 
unto  your  lordship,  is  rather  thoughts  than  words,  being  set 
down  without  all  art,  disguising,  or  reservation:  wherein  I 
have  done  honour  both  to  your  lordship's  wisdom,  in  judging 
that  that  will  be  best  believed  of  your  lordship  which  is 
truest;  and  to  your  lordship's  good  nature,  in  retaining  no 
thing  from  you.  And  even  so,  I  wish  your  lordship  all  hap 
piness,  and  to  myself  means  and  occasion  to  be  added  to  my 
faithful  desire  to  do  your  service. —  From  my  lodging  at 
Gray's-Inn." 

"To  the  Lord  Treasurer  Burghlcy.— It  may  please  your 
good  lordship,  I  am  to  give  you  humble  thanks  for  your 
favourable  opinion,  which  by  Mr.  Secretary's  report  I  find 
you  conceive  of  me,  for  the  obtaining  of  a  good  place,  which 
some  of  my  honourable  friends  have  wished  unto  me  nee 
opintinti.  1  will  use  no  reason  to  persuade  your  lordship's 
mediation,  but  this,  that  your  lordship,  and  my  other  friends, 
shall  in  this  beg  my  life  of  the  queen ;  for  I  see  well  the  bar 
will  be  my  bier,  as  I  must  and  will  use  it,  rather  than  my  poor 
estate  or  reputation  shall  decay." 

"To  my  Lord  of  Essex. — For  as  for  appetite,  the  waters  of 
Parnassus  are  not  like  the  waters  of  the  Spaw,  that  give  a 
stomach  ;  but  rather  they  quench  appetite  and  desires."  . 

A  letter  of  recommendation  of  his  service  to  the  Earl  of 
Northumberland,  a  few  days  before  Queen  Elizabeth's  death. 
— "To  be  plain  with  your  lordship,  it  is  very  true,  and  no 
winds  or  noises  of  civil  matters  can  blow  this  out  of  my  head 
or  heart,  that  your  great  capacity  and  love  towards  studies 
and  contemplations  of  a  higher  and  worthier  nature,  than 
popular,  a  nature  rare  in  the  world,  and  in  a  person  of  your 
lordship's  quality  almost  singular,  it  is  to  mo  a  great  and  chief 
motive  to  draw  my  affection  and  admiration  towards  you." 

"To  Mr.  Matthew." — Written,  as  it  seems,  when  he  had 
made  progress  in  the  Novum  Organum,  probably  about  1C09. 
"  I  must  confess  my  desire  to  be,  that  my  writings  should  not 
court  the  present  time,  or  some  few  places,  in  such  sort  as 
might  make  them  either  less  general  to  persons,  or  less  per 
manent  in  future  ages.  As  to  the  Instauration  your  so  full 
approbation  thereof  I  read  with  much  comfort,  by  how  much 
more  my  heart  is  upon  it;  and  by  how  much  less  1  expected 
consent  and  concurrence  in  a  matter  so  obscure.  Of  this  I 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


240 


can  assure  you,  that  though  many  things  of  great  hope  decay  |  Unmindful  of  the  feebleness  of  his  constitution;  unmindful 


with  youth,  and  multitude  of  civil  businesses  is  wont  to  di 
minish  the  price,  though  not  the  delight  of  contemplations, 
yet  the  proceeding  in  that  work  doth  gain  with  me  upon  my 
affection  and  desire,  both  by  years  and  businesses.  And 
therefore  I  hope,  eVen  by  this,  that  it  is  well  pleasing  to  God, 
from  whom,  and  to  whom,  all  good  moves.  To  him  I  most 
heartily  commend  you." 

"To  Sir  George  Villiers,  acknowledging  the  king's  favour. 
— Sir,  I  am  more  and  more  bound  unto  his  majesty,  who,  I 
think,  knowing  me  to  have  other  ends  than  ambition,  is  con 
tented  to  make  me  judge  of  mine  own  desires." 

Such  was  Bacon's  inclination:  and  if,  instead  of  his  needy 
circumstances,  he  had  possessed  the  purse  of  a  prince,  and 
the  assistance  of 'a  people,*  he 

in  the  prime  of  early  youth, 

Would  have  shunned  the  broad  way  and  the  green, 
And  laboured  up  the  hill  of  heavenly  truth. 

Upon  the  nature  of  ambition  and  great  place,  it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  suppose  that  he  could  have  entertained  erroneous 
opinions.  His  sentiments  are  contained  in  his  Essays  on 
those  subjects,  and  are  incidentally  mentioned  in  different 
parrs  of  his  works.  He  could  not  much  respect  a  passion  by 
which  men,  to  use  his  own  words,  were— "Like  a  seeled 
dove,  that  mounts  and  mounts  because  he  cannot  see  about 
him.  ...  As  if,"  he  says,  "man,  made  for  the  contemplation 
of  heaven,  and  all  noble  objects,  should  doe  nothing  but  kneel 
before  a  little  idol,  and  make  himselfe  subject,  though  not  of 
the  mouth  (as  beasts  are)  yet  of  the  eye,  which  was  given 
him  for  higher  purposes."  He  must  have  contrasted  the  phi 
losophic  freedom  of  a  studious  life  with  the  servile  restraints 
of  an  ambitious  life,  who  says — "Men  in  great  place,  are 
thrice  servants  :  servants  of  the  soveraigne  or  state ;  servants 
of  fame ;  and  servants  of  businesse.  So  as  they  have  no 
freedome,  neither  in  their  persons;  nor  in  their  actions;  nor 
in  their  times.  It  is  a  strange  desire  to  seeke  power  and  to 
lose  liberty;  to  seeke  power  over  others,  and  to  lose  power 
over  a  mans  selfe."  He  was  not  likely  to  form  an  erroneous 
estimate  of  different  pleasures  who  knew  that  the  great  dif 
ference  between  men  consisted  in  what  they  accepted  and 
rejected.  "The  logical  part  of  men's  minds,"  he  says,  "is 
often  good,  but  the  mathematical  part  nothing  worth :  that,  is, 
they  can  judge  well  of  the  mode  of  attaining  any  end,  but 
cannot  estimate  the  value  of  the  end  itself." — (See  page  177.) 
But,  notwithstanding  his  love  of  contemplation,  and  his  know 
ledge  that  the  splendid  speculations  of  genius  are  rarely  united 
with  that  promptness  in  action  or  consistence  in  general  con 
duct  which  is  necessary  for  the  immediate  control  of  civil 
affairs,  he  was  impelled  by  various  causes  to  engage  in  active 
life.  His  necessities  in  youth:  the  importunities  of  his 
friends;  the  queen  encouraging  him,  "as  her  young  lord 
keeper:"  his  sentiment  that  all  men  should  be  active,  that 
man's  motto  should  not  be  abstine  but  sustine:  that  in  this 
theatre  of  man's  life,  God  and  angels  only  should  be  lookers 
on:f  his  opinion  that  he  was  actuated  by  the  only  lawful  end 
of  aspiring — "the  power  to  do  good,"J  and  the  consciousness 
of  his  own  superiority  by  which  he  was  hurried  into  the  opi 
nion  that  he  could  subdue  all  things  under  his  feet,$  induced 
him  to  attempt  the  union  of  two  not  very  reconcilable  cha 
racters,  the  philosopher  and  the  statesman. 

Forth  reaching  to  the  fruit,  he  plucked,  he  eat, 
and,  after  all  the  honours  of  his  professions  had  been  succes 
sively  conferred  upon  him,  in  the  year  1617,  when  he  was 
fifty-seven  years  of  age,  the  great  seals  were  offered  to  him. 


*  "  Such  a  collection  of  natural  history,"  says  Bacon,  "as 
we  have  measured  out  in  our  mind,  and  such  as  really  ought 
to  be  procured,  is  a  great  and  royal  work,  requiring  the  purse 
of  a  prince  and  the  assistance  of  a  people." 

f  See  his  beautiful  illustration  in  page  220  of  this  volume. 

%  "  Power  to  doe  good,  is  the  true  and  lawful  end  of  aspir 
ing.  For  good  thoughts  (though  God  accept  them)  yet  to 
wards  men,  are  little  better  than  good  dreams  :  except  they 
be  put  in  act ;  and  that  cannot  be  without  power,  and  place  as 
the  vantage,  and  commanding  ground.  Merit,  and  good 
works,  is  the  end  of  man's  motion  ;  and  conscience  of  the 
K.  me.  is  the  accomplishment  of  man's  rest.  For  if  a  man  be 
partaker  of  God's  theatre;  he  shall  likewise  be  partaker  of 
God's  rest." 

$  See  page  163  of  this  volume. 

VOL.  I.— 32 


)f  his  love  of  contemplation  ;  unmindful  of  his  own  words: 
ic  in  an  evil  hour  accepted  the  offer.  One  of  the  conse 
quences  was>  the  sacrifice  of  his  favourite  work,  upon  which 
tie  had  been  engaged  for  thirty  years,  and  had  twelve 
times  transcribed  with  his  own  hand.  In  his  letter  to  the 
king,  dated  16th  October,  1020,  and  sent  with  the  Novum  Or- 
ganum,  he  says  :  "The  reason  why  I  have  published  it  now 
specially,  being  imperfect,  is,  to  speak  plainly,  because  I  num 
ber  my  days  and  would  have  it  saved."  The  same  sentiment 
was  expressed  by  him  in  the  year  1G07.  "But  time,  in  the 
nterim,  being  on  the  wing,  and  the  author  too  much  engaged 
n  civil  affairs,  especially  considering  the  uncertainties  of  life, 
he  would  willingly  hasten  to  secure  some  part  of  his  design 
from  contingencies."  Another  consequence  was,  the  injury 
to  his  reputation;  a  subject  upon  which,  although  I  hope  at 
some  future  time  to  be  more  explicit,  I  cannot  refrain  from 
subjoining  a  few  observations. 

When  the  chancellor  first  heard  of  the  threatened  attack 
upon  him  by  the  very  Parliament,  convened  by  his  advice  for 
the  detection  of  abuses,  he  wrote  to  the  House  of  Lords,  re 
questing  to  be  heard :  and  he  thus  wrote  to  the  Marquis  of 
Buckingham: — "Your  lordship  spoke  of  purgatory.  I  am 
now  in  it;  but  my  mind  is  in  a  calm,  for  my  fortune  is  not 
rny  felicity;  I  know  I  have  clean  hands,  and  a  clean  heart; 
and  I  hope  a  clean  house  for  friends,  or  servants.  But  Job 
himself,  or  whosoever  was  the  justest  judge,  by  such  hunting 
for  matters  against  him,  as  hath  been  used  against  me,  may, 
for  a  time,  seem  foul,  especially  in  a  time  when  greatness  \a 
the  mark,  and  accusation  is  the  game.  And  if  this  be  to  be  a 
chancellor,  I  think,  if  the  great  seal  lay  upon  Hounslow 
Heath,  nobody  would  take  it  up.  But  the  king  and  your 
lordship  will,  I  hope,  put  an  end  to  these  my  straits  one  way 
or  other."  By  what  way  the  king  and  his  lordship  did  put 
an  end  to  these  straits,  is  stated  by  Bushel  in  his  old  age,  in 
the  year  1659,  thirty-three  years  after  the  death  of  the  chan 
cellor.  As  the  tract  is  very  scarce,  I  subjoin  the  statement. 
"  But  before  this  could  be  accomplished  to  his  own  content, 
there  arose  such  complaints  against  his  lordship  and  the  then 
favourite  at  court,  that  for  some  days  put  the  kingto  this  query, 
whether  he  should  permit  the  favourite  of  his  affection,  or  the 
oracle  of  his  council,  to  sink  in  his  service;  whereupon  his 
lordship  was  sent  for  by  the  king,  who,  after  some  discourse, 
gave  him  this  positive  advice,  to  submit  himself  to  his  house 
of  peers,  and  that  (upon  his  princely  word)  he  would  then 
restore  him  again,  if  they  (in  their  honours)  should  not  be 
sensible  of  his  merits.  Now  though  my  lord  foresaw  his  ap 
proaching  ruin,  and  told  his  majesty  there  were  little  hopes 
of  mercy  in  a  multitude,  when  his  enemies  were  to  give  fire, 
if  he  did  not  plead  for  himself;  yet  such  was  his  obedience  to 
him  from  whom  he  had  his  being,  that  he  resolved  his  ma 
jesty's  will  should  be  his  only  law,  and  so  took  leave  of  him 
with  these  words:  'Those  that  will  strike  your  chancellor, 
it's  much  to  be  feared  will  strike  at  your  crown ;'  and  wished, 
that  as  he  was  then  the  first,  so  he  might  be  the  last  of  sacri 
fices.  Soon  after  (according  to  his  majesty's  commands) 
he  wrote  a  submissive  letter  to  the  house,  and  sent  me  to  my 
Lord  Windsor  to  know  the  result,  which  I  was  loath,  at  my 
return,  to  acquaint  him  with ;  for,  alas !  his  sovereign's  favour 
was  not  in  so  high  a  measure,  but  he,  like  the  phoenix,  must 
be  sacrificed  in  flames  of  his  own  raising,  and  so  perished, 
like  Icarus,  in  that  his  lofty  design,  the  great  revenue  of  his 
office  being  lost,  and  his  titles  of  honour  saved  but  by  the 
bishops'  votes;  whereunto  he  replied,  that  he  was  only 
bound  to  thank  his  clergy;  the  thunder  of  which  fatal  sen 
tence  did  much  perplex  my  troubled  thoughts,  as  well  as 
others,  to  see  that  famous  lord,  who  procured  his  majesty  to 
call  this  parliament,  must  be  the  first  subject  of  this  revenge 
ful  wrath;  and  that  so  unparalleled  a  master  should  be  thus 
brought  upon  the  public  stage  for  the  foolish  miscarriages  of 
his  own  servants,  whereof  with  grief  of  heart  I  confess  my 
self  to  be  one.  Yet  shortly  after  the  king  dissolved  the  pai- 
liament,  but  never  restored  that  matchless  lord  to  his  place, 
which  made  him  then  to  wish  the  many  years  he  had  spent 
in  state  policy  and  law  study  had  been  solely  devoted  to  true 
philosophy  :  for,  said  he,  the  one  at  best  doth  but  comprehend 
man's  frailty  in  its  greatest  splendour,  but  the  other  the  mys 
terious  knowledge  of  all  things  created  in  the  six  days' 
work."  That  there  was  a  private  interview  between  the 
chancellor  and  the  king,  thus  appears  from  the  journals  of 
the  House  of  Lords,  17th  April,  1621.  "The  lord  treasurer 


250 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


Minified,  that  in  the  interim  of  this  cessation,  the  lord  chan 
cellor  was  an  humble  suitor  unto  his  majesty,  that  he  might 
see  his  majesty,  and  speak  with  him;  and  although  his 
majesty,  in  respect  of  the  lord  chancellor's  person,  and  of 
the  place  he  holds,  might  have  given  his  lordship  that  favour, 
yet,  for  that  his  lordship  is  under  trial  of  this  house,  his  ma 
jesty  would  not  on  the  sudden  grant  it.  That  on  Sunday  last, 
the  king  calling  all  the  lords  of  this  house  which  were  of  his 
council  before  him,  it  pleased  his  majesty,  to  show  their  lord 
ships,  what  was  desired  by  the  lord  chancellor,  demanding 
their  lordships'  advice  therein.  The  lords  did  not  presume 
to  advise  his  majesty;  for  that  his  majesty  did  suddenly  pro 
pound  such  a  course  as  all  the  world  could  not  devise  better, 
which  was  that  his  majesty  would  speak  with  him  privately. 
That  yesterday,  his  majesty  admitting  the  lord  chancellor  to 
his  presence,  &c.  It  was  thereupon  ordered,  That  the  lord 
treasurer  should  signi.'yunto  his  majesty,  that  the  lords  do 
thankfully  acknowledge  that  his  majesty's  favour,  and  hold 
themselves,  highly  bound  unto  his  majesty  for  the  same." 
In  the  morning  of  the  21th  of  April,  a  few  days  after  this 
interview,  the  king  was  present  in  the  House  of  Lords,  com 
mended  the  complaint  of  all  public  grievances,  and  protested, 
that  he  would  prefer  no  peison  whomsoever  before  the  public 
good ;  and,  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  the  Prince  of 
Wales  signified  to  the  lords,  that  the  Lord  Chancellor  had 
sent  a  submission. — The  sentence  was  passed.  The  king 
remitted  all  which  it  was  in  his  power  to  pardon.  That  the 
time  would  arrive  when  it  would  be  proper  to  investigate  the 
whole  nature  of  these  proceedings,  Bacon  foresaw.  In  a 
paper  written  in  November,  1G»>2,  in  Greek  characters,  and 
found  amongst  his  papers,  he  sajs,  "  Of  my  offences,  far  be  it 
from  me  to  say,  Dat  veniam  corvis,  vexat  censura  columbas  : 
but  I  will  say  what  I  have  good  warrant  for,  they  were  not 
the  greatest  offenders  in  Israel,  upon  whom  the  wall  of  Shilo 
fell :"  Arid  in  his  will,  after  desiring  to  be  buried  by  his  mo 
ther,  he  says,  "For  my  name  and  memory,  I  leave  it  to  men's 
charitable  speeches,  and  to  foreign  nations,  and  the  next 
ages."  It  is  hoped  that  documents  are  now  in  existence,  by 
which  the  whole  of  this  transaction  may,  without  impro 
priety,  be  elucidated.  It  seems  that,  from  the  intimacy  be 
tween  Archbishop  Tennison  and  Dr.  Ilawley,  the  chancellor's 
chaplain  and  secretary,  all  the  facts  were  known  to  the 
Archbishop,  who  published  his  Baconiana  in  the  year  1079, 
"too  near  to  the  heels  of  truth  and  to  the  times  of  the  per 
sons  concerned;"  in  which  he  says,  "His  lordship  owned  it 
under  his  hand,  'that  he  was  frail  and  did  partake  of  the 
abuses  of  the  times.'  And  surely  he  was  a  partaker  of  their 
severities  also.  The  great  cause  of  his  suffering  is  to  some 
a  secret.  I  leave  them  to  find  it  out  by  his  words  to  King 
James.  '  I  wish,  as  I  am  the  first,  so  I  may  be  the  last  sacri 
fice  in  your  times,  and,  when  from  private  appetite  it  is  re 
solved,  that  a  creature  shall  be  sacrificed,  it  is  easy  to  pick 
up  sticks  enough  from  any  thicket,  whither  it  hath  strayed, 
to  make  a  fire  to  offer  it  with.'  At  present  I  shall  only  add, 
that  when  upon  his  being  accused,  he  was  told  it  was  time 
to  look  about  him,  he  said,  'I  do  not  look  about  me,  I  look 
above  me,'  and  when  he  was  condemned,  and  his  servants 
rose  upon  his  passing  through  the  gallery,  'Sit  down,  my 
friends,'  he  said,  'your  rise  has  been  my  fall.'  " 

That  the  love  of  excelling  is  only  a  temporary  motive  for  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge,  may  as  easily  be  demonstrated  : 
when  the  object  is  gained,  or  the  certainty  of  failure  disco 
vered,  what  motive  is  there  for  exertion?  What  worlds  are 
there  to  conquer"?  "  Sed  quid  ego  hacc,  qua;  cupio  deponere 
et  toto  animo  atque  omni  cura  (fri^oaofaiv.  Sic  inquam  in 
animo  est.  Vellem  ab  initio;"  are  the  words  of  Cicero. 
"Indeed,  my  lord,  I  greatly  deceive  myself,  if  in  this  hard 
season  I  would  give  a  peck  of  refuse  wheat  for  all  that  is 
called  fame  and  honour  in  the  world,"  are  the  words  of 
Burke.  Milton,  in  his  tract  on  Education,  speaking  of  young 
men  when  they  quit  the  universities :  "  Now  on  the  sudden 
transported  under  another  climate  to  be  tossed  and  turmoiled 
with  their  unballasted  wits  in  fathomless  and  unquiet  deeps 
of  controversy,  do  for  the  most  part  grow  into  hatred  and 
contempt  of  learning,  mocked  and  deluded  all  this  while  with 
ragged  notiong  and  babblements,  while  they  expected  worthy 
and  delightful  knowledge ;  till  poverty  or  youthful  years  call 
them  importunately  their  several  ways,  and  hasten  them 
with  the  sway  of  friends  either  to  an  ambitious  and  merce 
nary,  or  ignorantly  zealous  divinity;  some  allured  to  the 
trade  of  law,  grounding  their  purposes  not  on  the  prudent 


and  heavenly  contemplation  of  justice  and  equity,  which 
was  never  taught  them,  but  on  the  promising  and  pleasing 
thoughts  of  litigious  terms,  fat,  contentious,  and  flowing 
fees;  others  betake  them  to  state  affairs,  with  souls  so  un 
principled  in  virtue  and  true  generous  breeding,  that  flattery 
and  courtshifts  and  tyrannous  aphorisms  appear  to  them 
the  highest  points  of  wisdom;  instilling  their  barren  hearts 
with  a  conscientious  slavery;  if,  as  I  rather  think,  it  be  not 
feigned.  Others,  lastly,  of  a  more  delicious  and  airy  spirit, 
retire  themselves,  (knowing  no  better,)  to  the  enjoyments  of 
ease  and  luxury,  living  out  their  days  in  feast  and  jollity; 
which  indeed  is  the  wisest  and  the  safest  course  of  all  these, 
unless  they  were  with  more  integrity  undertaken.  And 
these  are  the  errors,  and  these  are  the  fruits  of  misspending 
our  prime  youth  at  the  schools  and  universities  as  we  do, 
either  in  learning  mere  words,  or  such  things  chiefly  as  were 
better  unlearned." 

That  the  love  of  excelling  has  a  tendency  to  generate  bad 
feeling,  is  as  easily  demonstrated.  Tucker  says,  "This  pas 
sion  always  chooses  to  move  alone  in  a  narrow  sphere, 
where  nothing  noble  or  important  can  be  achieved,  rather 
than  join  with  others  in  moving  mighty  engines,  by  which 
much  good  might  be  effected.  Where  did  ambition  ever 
glow  more  intensely  than  in  Ca-sar?  whose  favourite  saying, 
we  are  told,  was,  that  he  would  rather  be  the  first  man  in  a 
petty  village,  than  the  second  in  Rome.  Did  not  Alexander, 
another  madman  of  the  same  kind,  reprove  his  tutor  Aristotle 
for  publishing  to  the  world  those  discoveries  in  philosophy 
he  would  have  had  reserved  for  himself  alone?  'Nero,'  says 
Plutarch,  'put  the  fiddlers  to  death,  for  being  more  skilful  in 
the  trade  than  he  was.'  Dionysius,  the  elder,  was  so  angry 
at  Philoxenus  for  singing,  and  with  Plato  for  disputing  better 
than  he  did,  that  he  sold  Plato  a  slave  to  yEgina,  and  con 
demned  Philoxenus  to  the  quarries."  In  illustration  of  this 
doctrine,  I  cannot  refrain  from  subjoining  an  anecdote  which 
explains  the  whole  of  this  morbid  feeling.  "A  collector  of 
shells  gave  thirty-six  guineas  for  a  shell :  the  instant  he  paid 
the  money,  he  threw  the  shell  upon  the  hearth,  and  dashed 
it  into  a  thousand  pieces:  'I  have  now,' said  he,  'the  only 
specimen  in  England.' " 

The  love  of  excelling  has,  however,  its  uses.  It  leads  "to 
that  portion  of  knowledge  for  which  it  operates 

'The  spur  is  powerful,  and  I  grant  its  force  ; 
It  pricks  the  genius  forward  in  his  course, 
Allows  short  time  for  play  and  none  for  sloth, 
And,  felt  alike  by  each,  advances  both — ' 

and  is  attended  with  the  chance  of  generating  a  habit  to  ac 
quire  knowledge,  which  may  continue  when  the  motives 
themselves  have  ceased  to  act.  It  is  a  bait  for  pride,  which, 
when  seized,  may  sink  into  the  affections." 

Such  is  the  nature  of  the  love  of  excelling.  The  love  of 
excellence,  on  the  other  hand,  produced  the  Paradise  Lost : 
the  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  and  the  Novum  Organum.  It  in 
fluenced  Newton,  and  Descartes,  and  Hooker,  and  Bacon. 
It  has  ever  permanently  influenced,  and  will  ever  perma 
nently  influence  the  noblest  minds,  and  has  ever  generated, 
and  will  ever  generate  good  feeling.  "We  see,"  says  Ba 
con,  "in  all  other  pleasures  there  is  a  satiety,  and  after  they 
be  used,  their  verdure  departeth :  which  showeth  well  they 
be  but  deceits  of  pleasure,  and  riot  pleasures:  and  therefore 
we  see  that  voluptuous  men  turn  friars,  arid  ambitious 
princes  turn  melancholy :  but  of  knowledge  there  is  no 
satiety;  but  satisfaction  and  appetite  are  perpetually  inter 
changeable,  and  therefore  appeareth  to  be  good  in  itself 
simply  without  fallacy  or  accident."  "  I  have,"  says  Burke, 
"through  life  been  willing  to  give  every  thing  to  others,  and 
to  reserve  nothing  to  myself,  but  the  inward  conscience  that 
I  have  omitted  no  pains  to  discover,  to  animate,  to  discipline, 
to  direct  the  abilities  of  the  country  for  its  service,  and  to 
place  them  in  the  best  light  to  improve  their  age,  or  to  adorn 
it.  This  conscience  I  have.  I  have  never  suppressed  any 
man ;  never  checked  him  for  a  moment  in  his  course,  by  any 
jealousy,  any  policy.  I  was  always  ready  to  the  height  of 
my  means  (and  they  were  always  infinitely  below  my  de 
sires)  to  forward  those  abilities  which  overpowered  my 
own."  And  so  Pcederatus,  "being  left  out  of  the  election 
of  the  number  of  the  three  hundred,  said,  'It  does  me  good 
to  see  there  are  three  hundred  found  better  in  the  city  than 
myself.' " 

If  any  reader  of  this  note  conceive  that  education  cannot 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


251 


be  conducted  without  the  influence  of  this  motive,  he  will 
find  the  subject  most  ably  investigated  in  the  chapter  on 
Vanity  in  Tucker's  Light  of  Nature  :— and  if  he  imagine  that 
this  doctrine  is  injurious,  he  may  be  satisfied  that  there  never 
will  be  wanting  men  to  fill  up  the  niches  of  society.  "These 
things  will  continue  as  they  have  been :  but  so  will  that  also 
continue  whereupon  learning  hath  ever  relied,  and  which 
faileth  not:  ' Justificata  est  sapientia  a  filiis  suis."'  And  if 
he  imagine  that  this  doctrine  will  deter  elevation  of  mind 
from  engaging  in  worldly  pursuit,  let  him  read  Bacon's  refu 
tation  of  the  conceit  that  learning  should  dispose  men  to 
leisure  and  privateness,*  and  his  admonition  that  we  should 
direct  our  strength  against  nature  herself,  and  take  her  high 
towers  and  dismantle  her  fortified  holds,  and  thus  enlarge 
the  borders  of  man's  dominion  as  far  as  Almighty  God  of  his 
goodness  shall  permit. 

NOTE  I. 

Referring  to  page  140. 

In  page  207  of  this  work  may  be  found  Bacon's  observa 
tions  upon  the  importance  of  invention:  upon  which  the  con 
siderations  seem  to  be : 

1.  The  utility  of  inventions. 

"Let  anyone  consider  what  a  difference  there  is  betwixt 
the  life  led  in  any  polite  province  of  Europe,  and  in  the 
savage  and  barbarous  parts  of  the  world  ;  and  he  will  find  it 
so  great  that  one  man  may  deservedly  seem  a  god  to  another, 
not  only  on  account  of  greater  helps  and  advantages,  but  also 
upon  a  comparison  of  the  two  conditions;  and  this  difference 
is  not  owing  to  the  soil,  the  air,  or  bodily  constitution,  but  to 
arts." 

2.  Utility  of  an  art  of  invention. 

"If  some  large  obelisk  were  to  be  raised,  would  it  not 
seem  a  kind  of  madness  for  men  to  set  about  it  with  their 
naked  hands'?  and  would  it  not  be  greater  madness  still  to 
increase  the  number  of  such  naked  labourers,  in  confidence 
of  effecting  the  thing?  and  were  it  not  a  further  step  in 
lunacy,  to  pick  out  the  weaker  bodied,  and  use  only  the 
robust  and  strong;  as  if  they  would  certainly  do?  but  if,  not 
content  with  this,  recourse  should  be  had  to  anointing  the 
limbs,  according  to  the  art  of  the  ancient  wrestlers,  and  then 
all  begin  afresh,  would  not  this  be  raving  with  reason?  Yet 
this  is  but  like  the  wild  and  fruitless  procedure  of  mankind 
in  intellectuals ;  whilst  they  expect  great  things  from  multi 
tude  and  consent ;  or  the  excellence  and  penetration  of  ca 
pacity  ;  or  strengthen,  as  it  were,  the  sinews  of  the  mind 
with  logic.  And  yet,  for  all  this  absurd  bustle  and  struggle, 
men  still  continue  to  work  with  their  naked  understandings." 
The  object  of  the  Novum  Organum  is  to  explain  the  nature 
of  the  art  of  invention. 

3.  The  high  estimation  of  inventors. 
In  addition  to  the  passage  to  which  this  note  is  appended 
there  is  another  similar  passage,  I  believe,  in  the  Novum 
Organum. 

"The  introduction  of  noble  inventions  seems  to  hold  by  far 
the  most  excellent  place  among  all  human  actions.  And  this 
was  the  judgment  of  antiquity,  which  attributed  divine 
honours  to  inventors,  but  conferred  only  heroical  honours 
upon  those  who  deserved  well  in  civil  affairs,  such  as  the 
founders  of  empires,  legislators,  and  deliverers  of  their  coun 
try.  And  whoever  rightly  considers  it,  will  find  this  a  judi 
cious  custom  in  former  ages,  since  the  benefits  of  inventors 
may  extend  to  all  mankind,  but  civil  benefits  only  to  particu 
lar  countries,  or  seats  of  men  ;  and  these  civil  benefits  seldon 
descend  to  more  than  a  few  ages,  whereas  inventions  an 
perpetuated  through  the  course  of  time.  Besides,  a  state  i; 
seldom  amended  in  its  civil  affairs,  without  force  and  pertur 
bation,  whilst  inventions  spread  their  advantage,  withou 
doing  injury  or  causing  disturbance." 

See  also  in  page  269  of  this  volume,  where  Bacon  speak! 
in  his  New  Atlantis  of  the  respect  due  to  inventors  :  the  pas 
sage  beginning  with  the  words,  "we  have  two  very  long  am 
fair  galleries." 

4.  The  art  of  inventing  arts  and  sciences  is  deficient. 
See  page  207  of  this  volume. 

NOTE  L. 

Referring  to  page  141. 

The  power  of  man  is  his  means  to  attain  any  end.  "  Arch 
medes  by  his  knowledge  of  optics  was  enabled  to  burn  th 


*  See  page  165  of  this  volume. 


oman  fleet  before  Syracuse,  and  baffled  the  uncetasing 
fforts  of  Marcellus  to  take  the  town.  An  Athenian  admiral 
clayed  till  evening  to  attack,  on  the  coast  of  Attica,  a  Lace- 
emonian  fleet,  which  was  disposed  in  a  circle,  because  he 
new  that  an  evening  breeze  always  sprung  up  from  the 
ind.  The  breeze  arose,  the  circle  was  disordered,  and  at 
hat  instant  he  made  his  onset.  The  Athenian  captives,  by 
epeating  the  strains  of  Euripides,  were  enabled  to  charm 
neir  masters  into  a  grant  of  their  liberty." 

NOTE  M. 
Referring  to  page  142. 

See  page  268  of  this  volume,  relating  to  the  houses  of expe- 
iments  in  the  New  Atlantis. 

At  the  time  I  am  writing  this  note,  a  proposal  has  just 
ieen  published  for  the  formation  of  a  university  In  York- 
hire,  and  another  proposal  for  the  formation  of  a  university 
n  London :  aud  I  please  myself  with  the  consciousness  of 
he  good  which  must  result  from  the  agitation  of  this  ques- 
ion,  in  the  age  in  which  we  are  so  fortunate  to  live.  London 
s,  perhaps,  except  Madrid,  the  only  capital  in  Europe,  witli- 
nit  an  university.  Why  is  such  an  institution  expedient  in 
Edinburgh  and  Dublin,  and  inexpedient  in  the  capital  in 
England?  Lord  Bacon  thought,  in  the  year  1620,  that  from 
he  constitution  of  our  universities,  they  opposed  the  ad 
vancement  of  learning.  lie  says,  "  In  the  customs  arid  insli- 
utions  of  schools,  universities,  colleges,  and  the  like  conven- 
ions,  destined  for  the  seats  of  learned  men  and  the  promo- 
ion  of  knowledge,  all  things  are  found  opposite  to  the  ad 
vancement  of  the  sciences ;  for  the  readings  and  exercises 
ire  here  so  managed,  that  it  cannot  easily  come  into  any 
)ne's  mind  to  think  of  things  out  of  the  common  road.  Or 
f  here  and  there  one  should  venture  to  use  a  liberty  of  judg- 
ng,  he  can  only  impose  tiie  task  upon  himself,  without  ch 
aining!  assistance  from  his  fellows  ;  and  if  he  could  dispense 
with  this,  he  will  still  find  his  industry  and  resolution  a  great 
hinderance  to  the  raising  of  his  fortune.  For  the  studies  of 
men  in  such  places  are  confined,  and  pinned  down  to  the 
writings  of  certain  authors;  from  which,  if  any  man  happens 
to  differ,  he  is  presently  reprehended  as  a  disturber  and  inno 
vator.  But  there  is  surely  a  great  difference  between  arts 
and  civil  affairs;  for  the  danger  is  not  the  same  from  new 
ight,  as  from  new  commotions.  In  civil  affairs,  it  is  true,  a 
change  even  for  the  better  is  suspected,  through  fear  of  dis 
turbance  ;  because  these  affairs  depend  upon  authority,  con 
sent,  reputation,  and  opinion,  and  not  upon  demonstration  : 
but  arts  and  sciences  should  be  like  mines,  resounding  on  all 
sides  with  new  works,  and  farther  progress.  And  thus  it 
ought  to  be,  according  to  right  reason  ;  but  the  case,  iji  fact, 
is  quite  otherwise.  For  the  above-mentioned  administration 
and  policy  of  schools  and  universities,  generally  opposes  and 
greatly  prevents  the  improvement  of  the  sciences." 

Whether  these  observations  made  by  Bacon,  in  1620,  are  to 
any  and  what  extent  applicable  to  the  year  1S20, 1  know  not : 
but  I  have  been  informed,  that  the  anxiety  for  improvement, 
for  Avhich  this  age  is  distinguished,  has  extended  to  the  uni 
versity  of  Cambridge  :  that  it  has  already  beautified  the 
buildings;  and  that  an  inquirer  may  now  safely  consider 
whether  the  compendia  and  calculations  of  moral  and  politi 
cal  philosophy  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  university  manu. 
als,  are  best  calculated  to  form  high  national  sentiments. 

There  is  scarcely  any  subject  of  more  importance  than  the 
subject  of  universities.  So  Bacon  thought.  In  this  note,  I 
had  intended  to  have  collected  his  scattered  opinions,  and  to 
have  investigated  various  questions  respecting  universities  ; 
but  I  must  reserve  these  considerations  for  the  same 
passage  in  the  treatise  "De  Augmentis,"  where  I  hope  to 
examine 

1.  The  uses  of  universities. 

1.  The  preservation  and  propagation  of   enisling 

knowledge. 

2.  The  formation  of  virtuous  habits  in  youth 

3.  The  discovery  of  unexplored  truths 

2.  The  situation  of  universities. 

3.  The  buildings. 

1.  Libraries. 
1.  General. 
'2.  Particular. 

1.  Law. 

2.  Medical,  &c. 


252 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


2.  Scientific  houses. 

1.  Mathematical  houses. 

2.  Chemical  houses. 

3.  Houses  for  fine  arts,  <fcc. 

4.  Collections  of  natural  history. 

1.  Animals. 

2.  Vegetables. 

3.  Minerals. 

5.  Collections  of  arts. 

1.  Patents. 

2.  Mathematical  arts. 

3.  Fine  arts. 

1.  Engravings. 

2.  Paintings. 

3.  Sculpture. 

6.  Lectures. 

7.  Defects  of  universities. 

At  present  I  must  content  myself  with  expressing  my 
anxious  hope  that  the  project  for  a  metropolitan  university 
will  (as  it  will  sooner  or  later)  be  realized,  and  that  the  en 
quirers  for  knowledge  will  not  be  under  the  present  necessity 
of  attending  for  information  at  the  different  taverns  in  the 
different  parts  of  this  city :  at  Willis's  Rooms,  and  at  the 
London  Tavern,  and  at  the  Crown  and  Anchor  in  the  Strand, 
and  the  Paul's  Head,  Cateaton  Street,  where  lectures,  numer- 
rously  attended,  are  now  delivered  upon  different  parts  of 
natural  and  human  philosophy. 

Query  1.  As  a  tree  is  for  some  dimension  and  space  entire 
and  continued  before  it  breaks  and  parts  itself  into  arms  and 
boughs,  ought  there  not  to  be  lectures  upon  such  general  sub 
jects  as  will  be  applicable  to  men  in  all  states  of  society : 
upon 

1.  Man  as  an  individual. 

1.  The  laws  of  health. 

2.  The  passions,  including  all  our  different  pleasures. 

3.  The  understanding 

2.  Man  in  society. 

1.  The  general  principles  of  law. 

2.  The  general   principles  of  politics,  political  eco 

nomy,  &.c.  ifec. 

Query  2.  As  the  British  Museum  contains  a  noble  library, 
a  collection  of  natural  history,  of  sculpture,  and  of  paint 
ings:  as  the  buildings  are  rapidly  advancing,  and  as  it  has 
been  intimated  that  a  street  is  to  be  opened  from  the  museum 
to  Waterloo  bridge,  could  this  establishment  be  of  any  and 
what  use  to  such  an  institution  7 

NOTE  N. 
Referring  to  page  142. 

John  Milton  in  his  tract  on  education,  says,  "That  which 
casts  our  proficiency  therein  so  much  behind,  is  our  time  lost 
partly  in  too  oft  idle  vacancies  given  both  to  schools  and 
universities:  partly  in  a  preposterous  exaction,  forcing  the 
empty  wits  of  children  to  compose  themes,  verses,  and  ora 
tions,  which  are  the  acts  of  ripest  judgment,  and  the  final 
work  of  a  head  filled  by  long  reading  and  observing,  with 
«legunt  maxims  and  copious  invention.  These  are  not  mat 
ters  to  be  wrung  from  poor  striplings,  like  blood  flowing  out 
of  the  nose,  or  the  plucking  of  untimely  fruit;  besides  the  ill 
habit  which  they  get  of  wretched  barbarizing  against  the 
Latin  and  Greek  idioms,  with  their  untutored  Anglicisms, 
odious  to  read,  yet  not  to  be  avoided  without  a  well  continued 
and  judicious  conversing  among  the  pure  authors  digested, 
which  they  scarce  taste."  "  I  deem  it  to  be  an  old  error  of 
universities,  not  well  recovered  from  scholastic  grossness  of 
barbarous  ages,  that  instead  of  beginning  with  arts  most 
easy,  (and  those  be  such  as  are  most  obvious  to  the  sense,) 
they  present  their  young  unmatriculated  novices  at  first  com 
ing  with  the  most  intellective  abstractions  of  logic  and  meta 
physics." 

Cicero,  says  Middleton,  made  it  his  constant  care  that  the 
progress  of  his  knowledge  should  keep  pace  with  the  im 
provement  of  his  eloquence.  He  considered  the  one  as  the 
foundation  of  the  other,  and  thought  it  in  vain  to  acquire 
ornaments  before  he  had  provided  necessary  furniture. 

I  gubjoin  the  following  observations  from  a  MS.  in  my  pos 
session;  by  whom  it  was  written  I  know  not : — 

"The  defects  here  noted  in  the  universities  seem  to  have 
cured  themselves.  Logic,  by  the  supineness  of  teachers,  and 
indolence  of  pupils,  having  become  a  mere  dead  letter:  no- 
ilting  however  has  been  properly  substituted  in  its  place,  and 


the  crude,  hasty,  and  injudicious  method  in  which  mathe 
matics  are  taught  in  one  university,  seems  little  preferable 
to  the  absolute  neglect  of  them  in  the  other.  In  both  the 
genuine  sources  of  information,  the  ancient  writers,  have 
been  too  much  neglected,  and  from  the  same  neglect  has  pro 
ceeded  the  downfall  of  logic,  as  well  as  mathematics.  Since 
neither  in  the  first  is  Aristotle,  or  his  purest  Greek  commen 
tators,  Simplicius  and  Philopinus  regarded  ;  nor  in  the  latter 
have  the  elegant  inventions  recorded  in  Pappus  and  Archi 
medes,  the  Analytical  restitutions  which  Vieta  and  Halley 
have  given  from  Apollonius,  the  genuine  conic  geometry  of 
the  same  author,  the  spherics  of  Theodosius  and  Menceaus, 
the  remains  of  Theon  and  Eutocius,  of  Eratosthenes  and 
Hero,  been  sufficiently  attended,  to  which,  and  to  the  suc 
cessful  use  of  the  new  methods  of  calculus,  it  has  happened 
that  mathematics,  as  they  are  now  cultivated,  have  much  de 
parted  from  that  perspicuity  and  evidence  which  ought 
always  to  be  their  character. 

"  I  make  it  therefore  a  desideratum  that  the  use  and  effect 
of  the  ancient  Analysis  be  well  considered  both  in  plane  find 
solid  problems,  since  it  is  certain  that  its  use  did  extend  very 
far  among  the  ancients,  and  the  restitution  of  it  would  very 
much  improve  the  construction  of  problems,  which  are 
always  less  perspicuously,  many  times  less  easily  treated  by 
common  Algebra. 

"Something  of  this  kind,  though  not  generally  known,  is 
to  be  found  in  an  unpublished  MS.  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  de 
Geometric  libri  tres,  great  part  of  which  is  perfect. 

"The  true  theory  of  the  Porisms,  imperfectly  found  in  Pap 
pus,  given  up  as  unintelligible  by  Ilalley,  inadequately  at 
tempted  by  the  acute  Fermat,  and  laboured  with  much  unvuil- 
ing  industry  by  Rob.  Simson,  may  be  said  to  be  at  last  com 
pletely  ascertained  by  Professor  Playiair  of  Edinburgh." 

NOTE  O. 

Referring  to  page  143. 

Bacon  arranges  the  History  of  Arts  as  a  species  of  Natural 
History.  This  subject  is  much  improved  in  the  treatise  "  De 
Augmentis,"  where  he  states  his  reasons  for  this  arrange 
ment,  (See  chap.  2.  Book  2.  De  Aug.)  saying,  "We  are  the 
rather  induced  to  assign  the  History  of  Arts,  as  a  branch  of 
Natural  History,  because  an  opinion  hath  long  time  gone 
current,  as  if  art  were  some  different  thing  from  nature,  and 
artificial  from  natural."  The  siiine  sentiment  is  expressed 
both  by  Sir  Thomas  Brown  and  by  Shakspeare.  Brown  says, 
"Nature  is  not  at  variance  with  art;  nor  art  with  nature: 
they  being  both  the  servants  of  the  Providence  of  God.  Art 
is  the  perfection  of  nature  :  were  the  world  now  as  it  was 
the  sixth  day,  there  were  yet  a  chaos.  Nature  hath  made 
one  world,  and  art  another.  In  brief,  all  things  are  artificial : 
for,  nature  is  the  art  of  God." 
So  Shakspeare  says, 

"  Perdita.  For  I  have  heard  it  said, 
There  is  an  art,  which  in  their  piedness  shares 
With  great  creating  nature. 

"Pol.  Say  there  be, 
Yet  nature  is  made  better  by  no  mean, 
But  nature  makes  that  mean  ; 
So  over  that  art,  which  you  say  adds  to  nature, 
Is  an  art  that  nature  makes ;  you  see,  sweet  maid, 
We  marry  a  gentle  scion  to  the  wildest  stock, 
And  make  conceive  a  bark  of  baser  kind 
By  bud  of  nobler  race.     This  is  an  art, 
Which  does  mend  nature,  change  it  rather;  but 
The  art  itself  is  nature." 

NOTE  P. 

Referring  to  page  146. 
This  note  is  referred  to  the  treatise  De  Augmentis. 

NOTE  Q. 

Referring  to  page  150. 

See  as  to  the  nature  of  credulity  under  Fantastical  Learn 
ing,  ante  pages  139,  171.  See  also  Nov.  Org.  aph.  9. 

;The  mind  has  the  peculiar  and  constant  error  of  being 
more  moved  and  excited  by  affirmatives  than  by  negatives, 
hereas  it  should  duly  and  equally  yield  to  both.     But,  on 
the  contrary,  in  the  raising  of  true  axioms,  negative  instances 
have  the  greatest  force. 

The  mind  of  man,  if  a  thing  have  once  been  existent,  and 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


253 


held  good,  receives  a  deeper  impression  thereof,  than  if  the 
same  thing  far  more  often  failed  and  fell  out  otherwise  :  which 
is  the  root,  as  it  were,  of  all  superstition  and  vain  credulity." 
Bacon,  in  his  experiments  respecting  antipathy  in  his  Sylva 
Sylvarum,  speaking  of  "the  supposed  sympathies  between 
persons  at  distant  places."  says,  "it  is  true  that  they  may 
hold  in  these  things  which  is  the  general  root  of  superstition, 
namely  that  men  observe  when  things  hit,  and  not  when  they 
rniss :  and  commit  to  memory  the  one,  and  forget  and  pass 
over  the  other." 

NOTE  R. 
Referring'  to  page  150 

"The  spirit  of  man  presupposes  and  feigns  a  greater  equal 
ity  and  uniformity  in  nature  than  in  truth  there  is.  Hence 
that  fiction  of  the  mathematicians,  that  in  the  heavenly 
bodies  all  is  moved  by  perfect  circles,  rejecting  spiral  lines. 
So  it  comes  to  pass  that  whereas  there  are  many  things  in 
nature,  as  it  were,  monodica  and  full  of  imparity :  yet  the 
conceits  of  men  still  feign  and  frame  unto  themselves  rela 
tives  ;  parallels,  and  conjugates:  for  upon  this  ground  the 
element  of  .fire  and  its  orb  is  brought  in  to  keep  square  with 
the  other  three,  earth,  water,  air.  The  chymists  have  set 
out  a  fanatical  squadron  of  words,  feigning  by  a  most  vain 
conceit  in  these  their  four  elements,  (heaven,  air,  water, 
earth,)  there  are  to  be  found  to  every  one  parallel  and  uni 
form  species. 

"As  the  northern  part  of  the  earth  was  supposed  to  be  a 
hemisphere,  the  southern  part  was  assumed  to  be  of  the  same 
form. 

"Bacon  says,  'In  the  structure  of  the  universe  the  motion 
of  living  creatures  is  generally  performed  by  quadruple  limits 
or  flexures  :  as  the  fins  of  fish ;  the  feet  of  quadrupeds  ;  and 
the  feet  and  wings  of  fowl.' — To  which  Aristotle  adds,  'the 
four  wreaths  of  serpents.' 

"That  produce  increases  in  an  arithmetic  and  population 
in  a  geometric  ratio,  is  a  position  which  seems  to  partake  of 
the  love  of  uniformity." 

See  Novum  Organum,  aph.  45. 

NOTE  S. 
Referring  to  page  150. 

Bacon's  doctrine  of  idols  of  the  understanding  is  more  fully 

explained  in  the  beginning  of  the  Novum  Organum,  where 

these  idols  or  tendencies  of  the  mind  to  be  warped  from  the 

.    truth  are   investigated  and  deprecated.^*He  then  explains, 

C    that  if  these   idols  once  take  root  in  the  mind,  truth  will 

\  hardly  find  entrance,  or  if  it  do,  that  it  will  be  choked  and 

destroyed,  and  he  warns  us  that  "Idols  are  to  be  solemnly 

and    forever    renounced,  that    the    understanding    may  be 

thereby   purged  and  cleansed;    for    the  kingdom  of  man, 

which  is  founded  in  the  sciences,  can  scarce   be  entered 

otherwise  than  the  kingdom  of  God,  that  is,  in  the  condition 

of  little  children." 

And  in  his  introduction  to  the  just  method  of  compiling 
^  history,  he  says;  "If  we  have  any  humility  towards  the 
J  Creator;  if  we  have  any  reverence  and  esteem  of  his  works; 
if  we  have  any  charity  towards  men,  or  any  desire  of  reliev 
ing  their  miseries  and  necessities;  if  we  have  any  love  for 
natural  truths  ;  any  aversion  to  darkness  ;  and  any  desire  of 
purifying  the  understanding ;  mankind  are  to  be  most  affection 
ately  intreated,  and  beseeched  to  lay  aside,  at  least  for  a  while, 
their  preposterous,  fantastic  and  hypothetical  philosophies, 
which  have  led  experience  captive,  and  childishly  triumphed 
over  the  works  of  God;  and  now  at  length  condescend,  with 
due  submission  and  veneration,  to  approach  and  peruse  the 
volume  of  the  Creation;  dwell  some  time  upon  it;  and, 
bringing  to  the  work  a  mind  well  purged  of  opinions,  idols, 
and  false  notions,  converse  familiarly  therein.  This  volume 
is  the  language  which  has  gone  out  to  all  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  unaffected  by  the  confusion  of  Babel;  this  is  the  lan 
guage  that  men  should  thoroughly  learn,  and  not  disdain  to 
have  its  alphabet  perpetually  in  their  hands :  and  in  the  inter 
pretation  of  this  language  they  should  spare  no  pains;  but 
strenuously  proceed,  persevere,  and  dwell  upon  it  to  the  last." 
Bacon  having  explained  the  general  nature  of  idols,  and 
demonstrated  the  importance  of  destroying  them,  divides 
them  into  four  sorts :  but  they  seem  to  be  reducible  to  two, 
which  may  be  thus  exhibited. 


S  1.  Of  the  tribe. 
1  2.  Of  the  market. 

•{* 


1.  General 


2.  Particular 


"Speaking  of  idols  of  the  tribe,  lie  says,  'There  are  cer 
tain  predispositions  which  beset  the  mind  of  man;  certain 
idols  which  are  constantly  operating  upon  the  mind  and 
warping  it  from  the  truth  ;  the  mind  of  man,  drawn  over 
and  clouded  with  the  sable  pavilion  of  the  body,  is  so  far 
from  being  like  a  smooth,  equal,  and  clear  glass,  which  might 
sincerely  take  and  reflect  the  beams  of  things  according  to 
their  true  incidence,  that  it  is  rather  like  an  enchanted  glass, 
full  of  superstitions  and  impostures.'  " 

Having  explained  the  nature  of  some  of  the  "idols  of  the 
tribe,"  he  explains  the  "idols  of  the  den,"  or  those  prejudices 
which  result  from  the  false  appearances  imposed  by  every 
man's  own  peculiar  nature  and  custom.  "We  every  one  of 
us  have  our  particular  den  or  cavern  which  refracts  and  cor 
rupts  the  light  of  nature,  either  because  every  man  has  his 
respective  temper,  education,  acquaintance,  course  of  reading 
and  authorities,  or  from  the  difference  of  impressions,  as 
they  happen  in  a  mind  prejudiced  or  prepossessed,  or  in  one 
that  is  calm  and  equal.  The  faculties  of  some  men  are  con 
fined  to  poetry:  of  some  to  mathematics:  of  some  to  morals: 
of  some  to  metaphysics.  The  schoolmaster,  the  lawyer,  the 
physician,  have  their  several  and  peculiar  ways  of  observing 
nature." 

NOTE  T. 
Referring  to  page  150. 

The  prejudices  from  words  are  what  Bacon  calls,  "idols  of 
the  market,"  which  are  fully  explained  in  the  Novum  Orga 
num,  where  there  is  an  expansion  of  the  following  doctrine. 

"There  are  also  idols  that  have  their  rise,  as  it  were,  from 
compact,  and  the  association  of  mankind;  which,  on  account 
of  the  commerce  and  dealings  that  men  have  with  one 
another,  we  call  idols  of  the  market.  For  men  associate  by 
discourse,  but  words  are  imposed  according  to  the  capacity 
j  of  the  vulgar;  whence  a  false  and  improper  imposition  of 
words  strangely  possesses  the  understanding.  Nor  do  the 
definitions  and  explanations  wherewith  men  of  learning  in 
some  cases  defend  and  vindicate  themselves,  any  way  repair 
the  injury;  for  words  absolutely  force  the  understanding,  put 
all  things  in  confusion,  and  lead  men  away  to  idle  controver 
sies  and  subtleties  without  number." 

This  important  subject  is  investigated  in  the  Novum  Orga 
num,  where  the  different  defects  of  words  are  explained. 


NOTE  U. 

Referring  to  page  150. 

This  important  subject  of  memory  is  investigated  in  the 
Novum  Organum,  under  the  head  of"  Constituent  Instances," 
and  may  be  thus  exhibited. 

.  When  the  mind 
t          is  free. 
I  2.  When  the  mind 

is  agitated. 
rl.  Variety  of  ini- 
2.  Bv  the  conduct  J         pression. 

"    oftheagent.  |  2.  Slowness  of  im- 
*.        pression. 
1.  Order. 


I.  The  art  of  mak 
ing  strong  im 
pressions. 


1.  The  state  of  the 
mind  of  the- 
patient. 


II.  The  art  of  re-  I  l-  Cutting  off  infi-J 
ei-  I  nity. 


sion. 


3.    Technical   me 
**        mory. 
2.  Reducing   intellectual   to  sensinle 

things. 

That  impressions  are  strongly  made  when  the  mind  is  free  and 
disengaged,  may  appear  from  the%  permanent  impressions 
made  in  early  life,  which  often  remain  in  old  age,  when  all 
intermediate  impressions  are  forgotten. 

That  impressions  may  be  strongly  made  when  the  mind  is  in 
fluenced  by  passion,  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following  anec 
dote,  from  the  Life  of  Benvenuto  Cellini,  who  says,  "My 
father  happened  to  be  in  a  little  room,  in  which  they  had 
been  washing,  and  where  there  was  a  good  fire  of  oak  burn 
ing,  with  a  fiddle  in  his  hand  he  sang  and  played  near  the 
fire  ;  the  weather  being  exceeding  cold,  he  looked  at  this  time 
into  the  flames  and  saw  a  little,  animal  resembling  a  lizard, 


254 


NOTES  TO  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  LEARNING. 


which  could  live  in  the  hottest  part  of  that  element :  instantly 
perceiving  what  it  was,  he  called  for  my  sister,  and,  after  he 
had  shown  us  the  creature,  he  gave  me  a  box  of  the  ear:  I 
fell  a  crying,  while  he  soothing  me  with  his  caresses,  spoke 
these  words,  'My  dear  child,  I  dont  give  you  that  box  for  any 
fault  you  have  committed,  but  that  you  may  recollect  that  | 
this  little  creature  which  you  see  in  the  fire,  is  a  salamander.'  " 
Instances  of  the  same  nature  occur  daily,  of  which  one  of  j 
the  most  common  and  practical  is  the  custom,  when  boys 
walk  the  boundaries  of  parishes,  for  the  officer  to  strike  the 
boy,  that  he  may  remember  in  old  age  the  boundary  which 
he  walked ;  so  that  Bacon's  doctrine  seems  to  be  well  founded, 
that  these  things  which  make  an  impression  by  means  of  j 
strong  affection  or  passion  assist  the  memory.    The  mind  j 
when  disturbed,  being,  for  this  purpose,  free  from  the  same 
cause,  the  exclusion  of  all  thought  but  the  predominant  pas 
sion. 

That  strong  impressions  are  produced  by  a  variety  of  circum- 
stances,  appears  by  "proving  the  same  geometrical  proposi 
tion  by  different  forms  of  proofs,  as  algebraic  and  geometric, 
&c.  Reading  the  same  several  truths  in  prose  and  in  verse, 
and  in  different  styles  in  each,  <fcc. 

That  impressions  ought  not  to  be  too  hastily  made,  may  be 
inferred  from  the  old  adage,  that  "great  wits  have  short 
»«e?/i0rzes." 

With  respect  to  cutting  of  infinity,  or  what  Bacon  terms, 
"the  limitation  of  an  indefinite  seeking  to  an  inquiry  within 
a  narrow  compass." 

The  first  mode  is,  he  says,  by  order  or  distribution ;  the 
second  by  places  for  artificial  memory  ;  which  he  says,  "May 
either  be  places  in  a  proper  sense,  as  a  door,  a  window,  a 
corner,  &c.,  or  familiar  and  known  persons,  or  any  known 
persons,  or  any  other  things  at  pleasure :  provided  they  be 
placed  in  a  certain  order,  as  animals,  plants,  words,  letters, 
characters,  historical  personages,  &c.,  though  some  of  these 
are  more,  and  some  less  fit  for  the  purpose.  But  such  kind 
of  places  greatly  help  the  memory,  and  raise  it  far  above  its 
natural  powers."  And  we  are  told  by  Aubrey,  that  Lord 
Bacon's  practice  corresponded  with  his  theory;  for  "In  his 
description  of  Lord  Bacon's  house  at  Gorhambury,  he  says, 
'Over  this  portico  is  a  stately  gallery,  where  glass  windows 
are  all  painted:  and  every  pane  with  several  figures  of  beast, 
bird,  or  flower :  perhaps  his  lordship  might  use  them  as  topics 
for  local  memory.' " 

The  third  mode  is,  he  says,  by  technical  memory,  of  which 
there  are  an  infinite  number  of  modes,  not  very  highly  prized 
by  Bacon,  (see  page  212  of  this  volume,)  of  which  old  Fuller 
says,  "It  is  rather  a  trick  than  an  art,  and  more  for  the  gain 
of  the  teacher  than  profit  of  the  learners.  Like  the  tossing 
of  a  pike,  which  is  no  part  of  the  postures  and  motions 
thereof,  and  is  rather  ostentation  than  use,  to  show  the 
strength  and  nimbleness  of  the  arm,  and  is  often  used  by 
wandering  soldiers  as  an  introduction  to  beg.  Understand 
it  of  the  artificial  rules  which  at  this  day  are  delivered  by  the 
memory  mountebanks :  for  sure  an  art  therefore  may  be 
made,  (wherein  as  yet  the  world  may  be  defective))  and  that 
no  more  destructive  to  natural  memory  than  spectacles  are 
lo  the  eyes,  which  girls  in  Holland  wear  from  twelve  years 
of  age." 

With  respect  to  the  reduction  of  intellectual  to  sensible  things, 
Bacon  is  more  copious  in  his  treatise  "  De  Augmentis,"  where 
he  says,  "What  is  presented  to  the  senses  strikes  more  forci 
bly  than  what  is  presented  to  the  intellect.  The  image  of 
a  huntsman  pursuing  a  hare  ;  or  an  apothecary  putting  his 
boxes  in  order;  or  a  man  making  a  speech;  or  a  boy  reciting 
verses  by  heart ;  or  an  actor  upon  the  stage,  are  more  easily 
remembered  than  the  notions  of  invention,  disposition,  elocu 
tion,  memory,  and  action." 


NOTE  V. 
Referring  to  page  157. 

This  seed  has,  for  the  last  two  centuries,  been  apparently 
not  really  dormant.  It  has,  during  this  interval,  been  soften 
ing  and  expanding,  and  has  lately  appeared  above  the  surface. 
By  the  labours  of  foreign  authors,  from  Montesquieu  to  the 
benevolent  Beccarria,  and  of  various  philosophers  and  poli 
tical  economists  in  this  island,  and,  above  all,  of  Jeremy  Ben- 
tham,  it  is  beginning  to  be  admitted  that  "law  is  a  science," 
and  that  "  pour  diriger  les  mou vemens  de  la  pouppee  humaine, 
il  faudroit  connoitre  les  fils  qui  la  meuvent."  Commerce  has 
already  felt  the  influence  of  these  opinions,  the  injurious  re 
straints,  by  which  its  freedom  was  shackled,  are  mouldering 
away:  and  the  lesson  taught  two  thousand  years  ago,  of  for 
giveness  of  debtors,  has.  after  the  unremitted  exertions  of 
philosophy  during  this  long  period,  been  lately  sanctioned  by 
the  legislature.  It  is  now  no  longer  contended  that  the  count 
ing-house  has  any  alliance  with  the  jail,  or  that  a  man  should 
be  judge  in  his  own  cause,  and  assign  the  punishment  of  his 
own  pain.  These  errors  have  passed  away.  In  the  first 
year  of  the  reign  of  his  present  majesty,  arbitrary  imprison 
ment  for  debt  was  abolished  by  the  establishment  of  the  In 
solvent  Court.  The  same  influence  has  extended  to  our 
criminal  law.  The  restraints  upon  conscience  are  gradually 
declining:  and  the  punishment  of  death  is  receding  within 
its  proper  limits,  which  it  has  for  years  exceeded,  by  the 
erroneous  notion,  that  the  power  of  a  law  varied  not  in 
versely,  but  directly  as  the  opinion  of  its  severity.  Twenty 
years  have  scarcely  passed  away  since  Sir  Samuel  Romilly 
first  proposed  the  mitigation  of  the  punishment  of  death. 
His  proposal  was  met  in  the  English  parliament  as  disre 
spectful  to  the  judges,  and  an  innovation  by  which  crime 
would  be  increased,  and  the  constitution  endangered.  During 
the  excesses  of  the  French  revolution,  the  prudence  of  this 
country  stood  upon  the  old  ways,  dreading  the  very  name  of 
change;  but  these  fears  no  longer  exist:  timidity  is  finding 
its  level,  and,  instead  of  being  perplexed  by  fear  of  change, 
our  intellectual  government  encourages  improvement,  which, 
thus  fostered,  is  now  moving  upon  the  whole  island.  In  the 
same  first  year  of  the  reign  of  his  present  majesty,  the  fol 
lowing  laws  were  enacted : 

"  An  Act,  to  repeal  so  much  of  the  several  Acts  passed  in 
the  thirty-ninth  year  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  the  fourth  of 
George  I.,  the  fifth  and  eighth  of  George  II.,  as  inflicts  capital 
punishments  on  certain  offences  therein  specified,  and  to  pro 
vide  more  suitable  and  effectual  punishment  for  such  offences. 

"An  Act  to  repeal  so  much  of  the  several  Acts  passed  in 
the  first  and  second  years  of  the  reign  of  Philip  and  Mary, 
the  eighteenth  of  Charles  II.,  the  ninth  of  George  I.,  and  the 
twelfth  of  George  II.,  as  inflicts  capital  punishment  on  certain 
offences  therein  specified. 

"An  Act  to  repeal  so  much  of  an  Act  passed  in  the  tenth 
and  eleventh  years  of  King  William  III.,  entitled,  An  Act 
for  the  better  apprehending,  prosecuting,  and  punishing  of 
felons,  that  commit  burglary,  house-breaking,  or  robbery,  in 
shops,  ware-houses,  coach-houses,  or  stables,  or  that  steal 
horses,  as  takes  away  the  benefit  of  clergy  from  persons 
privately  stealing  in  any  shop,  ware-house,  coach-house,  or 
stable,  any  goods,  wares,  or  merchandises,  of  the  value  of 
5s.,  and  for  more  effectually  preventing  the  crime  of  stealing 
privately  in  shops,  ware-houses,  coach-houses,  or  stables." 

May  we  not  hope  that  during  the  next  fifty  years  more 
progress  will  be  made  in  sound  legislation,  than  for  some 
preceding  centuries'?  and  may  we  not  ascribe  these  improve 
ments  partly  to  the  exertions  of  this  great  philosopher,  who,  in 
his  dedication  of  the  Novum  Organum  to  King  James,  says, 
"I  shall,  perhaps,  when  I  am  dead,  hold  out  a  light  to  poste 
rity,  by  this  new  torch  set  up  in  the  obscurity  of  philosophy," 


NEW     ATLANTIS. 


A  WORK   UNFINISHED. 


TO  THE  READER. 

THIS  fable  my  lord  devised,  to  the  end  that  he  might  exhibit  therein  a  model  or  description  of  a 
college,  instituted  for  the  interpreting  of  nature,  and  the  producing  of  great  and  marvellous  works 
for  the  benefit  of  men,  under  the  name  of  Solomon's  House,  or  the  College  of  the  Six  Day's  Works. 
And  even  so  far  his  lordship  hath  proceeded,  as  to  finish  that  part.  Certainly,  the  model  is  more 
vast,  and  high,  than  can  possibly  be  imitated  in  all  things  ;  notwithstanding  most  things  therein  are 
within  men's  power  to  effect.  His  lordship  thought  also  in  this  present  fable  to  have  composed  a 
frame  of  laws,  or  of  the  best  state  or  mould  of  a  commonwealth  ;  but  foreseeing  it  would  be  a  long 
work,  his  desire  of  collecting  the  Natural  History  diverted  him,  which  he  preferred  many  degrees 
before  it. 

This  work  of  the  New  Atlantis  (as  much  as  concerneth  the  English  edition)  his  lordship  designed 
for  this  place  ;*  in  regard  it  hath  so  near  affinity  (in  one  part  of  it)  with  the  preceding  Natural 
History.  W.  RAWLEY. 


NEW    ATLANTIS 


WE  sailed  from  Peru,  where  we  had  continued 
by  the  space  of  one  whole  year,  for  China  and 
Japan,  by  the  South  Sea,  taking  with  us  victuals 
for  twelve  months  ;  and  had  good  winds  from  the 
•east,  though  soft  and  weak,  for  five  months'  space 
and  more.  But  then  the  wind  came  about  and 
settled  in  the  west  for  many  days,  so  as  we  could 
make  little  or  no  way,  and  were  sometimes  in 
purpose  to  turn  back.  But  then  again  there  arose 
strong  and  great  winds  from  the  south,  with  a 
point  east,  which  carried  us  up,  for  all  that  we 
could  do,  towards  the  north ;  by  which  time  our 
victuals  failed  us,  though  we  had  made  good 
spare  of  them.  So  that  finding  ourselves  in  the 
midst  of  the  greatest  wilderness  of  waters  in  the 
world,  without  victual,  we  gave  ourselves  for  lost 
men,  and  prepared  for  death.  Yet  we  did  lift  up 
our  hearts  and  voices  to  God  above,  who  showeth 
"his  wonders  in  the  deep;"  beseeching  him  of 
his  mercy,  that  as  in  the  beginning  he  discovered 
the  face  of  the  deep,  and  brought  forth  dry  land, 
so  he  would  now  discover  land  to  us  that  we 
might  not  perish.  And  it  came  to  pass,  that  the 
next  day  about  evening,  we  saw  within  a  kenning 
before  us,  towards  the  north,  as  it  were  thick 
clouds,  which  did  put  us  in  some  hope  of  land  ; 
*  See  the  Note  at  the  end. 


knowing  how  that  part  of  the  South  Sea  was 
utterly  unknown ;  and  might  have  islands  or  con 
tinents,  that  hitherto  were  not  come  to  light. 
Wherefore  we  bent  our  course  thither,  where  we 
saw  the  appearance  of  land  all  that  night ;  and  in 
the  dawning  of  the  next  day,  we  might  plainly 
discern  that  it  was  a  land,  flat  to  our  sight  and 
full  of  boscage,  which  made  it  show  the  more 
dark.  And  after  an  hour  and  a  half's  sailing,  we 
entered  into  a  good  haven,  being  the  port  of  a  fair 
city ;  not  great  indeed,  but  well  built,  and  that 
gave  a  pleasant  view  from  the  sea.  And  we 
thinking  every  minute  long  till  we  were  on  land, 
came  close  to  the  shore,  and  offered  to  land.  But 
straightways  we  saw  divers  people  with  batons 
in  their  hands,  as  it  were  forbidding  us  to  land  ; 
yet  without  any  cries  or  fierceness,  but  only  as 
warning  us  off  by  signs  that  they  made.  Where 
upon  being  not  a  little  discomforted,  we  were 
advising  with  ourselves  wrhat  we  should  do. 
During  which  time  there  made  forth  to  us  a  small 
boat,  with  about  eight  persons  in  it ;  whereof  one 
of  them  had  in  his  hand  a  tipstaff  of  a  yellow 
cane,  tipped  at  both  ends  with  blue,  who  came 
aboard  our  ship,  without  any  show  of  distrust  at 
all.  And  when  he  saw  one  of  our  number  pre 
sent  himself  somewhat  afore  the  rest,  he  drew 

255 


256 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


forth  a  little  scroll  of  parchment,  somewhat  yel 
lower  than  our  parchment,  and  shining  like  the 
leaves  of  writing  tables,  but  otherwise  soft  and 
flexible,  and  delivered  it  to  our  foremost  man.  In 
which  scroll  were  written  in  ancient  Hebrew,  and 
in  ancient  Greek,  and  good  Latin  of  the  school, 
and  in  Spanish,  these  words  ;  "  Land  ye  not,  none 
of  you,  and  provide  to  be  gone  from  this  coast 
within  sixteen  days,  except  you  have  further  time 
given  you:  mean  while,  if  you  want  fresh  water, 
or  victual,  or  help  for  your  sick,  or  that  your  ship 
needeth  repair,  write  down  your  wants,  and  you 
shall  have  that  which  belongeth  to  mercy." 
This  scroll  was  signed  with  a  stamp  of  cheru 
bim's  wings,  not  spread  but  hanging  downwards, 
and  by  them  a  cross.  This  being  delivered,  the 
oilicer  returned,  and  left  only  a  servant  with  us 
to  receive  our  answer.  Consulting  hereupon 
amongst  ourselves,  we  were  much  perplexed. 
The  denial  of  landing,  and  hasty  warning  us 
away,  troubled  us  much ;  on  the  other  side,  to 
find  that  the  people  had  languages  and  were  so 
full  of  humanity,  did  comfort  us  not  a  little. 
And  above  all,  the  sign  of  the  cross  to  that  in 
strument  was  to  us  a  great  rejoicing,  and  as  it 
were  a  certain  presage  of  good.  Our  answer  was 
in  the  Spanish  tongue;  "That  for  our  ship,  it 
was  well ;  for  we  had  rather  met  with  calms  and 
contrary  winds  than  any  tempests.  For  our  sick, 
they  were  many,  and  in  very  ill  case  ;  so  that  if 
they  were  not  permitted  to  land,  they  ran  danger 
of  their  lives."  Our  other  wants  we  set  down  in 
particular  ;  adding,  "  that  we  had  some  little 
store  of  merchandise,  which  if  it  pleased  them  to 
deal  for,  it  might  supply  our  wants  without  being 
chargeable  unto  them."  We  offered  some  reward 
in  pistolets  unto  the  servant,  and  a  piece  of  crim 
son  velvet  to  be  presented  to  the  officer ;  but  the 
servant  took  them  not  nor  would  scarce  look  upon 
them ;  and  so  left  us,  and  went  back  in  another 
little  boat  which  was  sent  for  him. 

About  three  hours  after  we  had  despatched  our 
answer,  there  came  towards  us  a  person,  as  it 
seemed,  of  place.  He  had  on  him  a  gown  with 
wide  sleeves,  of  a  kind  of  water-chamblet,  of  an 
excellent  azure  colour,  far  more  glossy  than  ours  ; 
his  under  apparel  was  green,  and  so  was  his  hat, 
being  in  the  form  of  a  turban,  daintily  made,  and 
not  so  huge  as  the  Turkish  turbans  ;  and  the 
locks  of  his  hair  came  down  below  the  brims  of 
it.  A  reverend  man  was  he  to  behold.  He  came 
in  a  boat,  gilt  in  some  part  of  it,  with  four  per 
sons  more  only  in  that  boat;  and  was  followed  by 
anotker  boat,  wherein  were  some  twenty.  When 
he  was  come  within  a  flight  shot  of  our  ship, 
signs  were  made  to  us,  that  we  should  send  forth 
some  to  meet  him  upon  the  water,  which  we  pre 
sently  did  in  our  ship-boat,  sending  the  principal 
men  amongst  us  save  one,  and  four  of  our  num 
ber  with  him.  When  we  were  come  within  six 
yards  of  their  boat,  they  called  us  to  stay,  and  not 


!  to  approach  farther  ;  which  we  did.  And  there- 
•  upon  the  man,  whom  I  before  described,  stood  up, 
and  with  a  loud  voice  in  Spanish,  asked,  "Are 
ye  Christians  ]"  We  answered,  "  we  were  ;" 
fearing  the  less,  because  of  the  cross  we  had  seen 
in  the  subscription.  At  which  answer  the  said 
person  lifted  up  his  right  hand  towards  heaven, 
and  drew  it  softly  to  his  mouth,  which  is  the 
gesture  they  use  when  they  thank  God,  and  then 
said  ;  "  If  ye  will  sware,  all  of  you,  by  the  merits 
of  the  Saviour,  that  ye  are  no  pirates ;  nor  have 
shed  blood  lawfully  nor  unlawfully  within  forty 
days  past,  you  may  have  license  to  come  on 
land."  We  said,  "we  were  all  ready  to  take 
that  oath."  Whereupon  one  of  those  that  were 
with  him,  being,  as  it  seemed,  a  notary,  made  an 
entry  of  this  act.  W^hich  done,  another  of  the 
attendants  of  the  great  person,  which  was  with 
him  in  the  same  boat,  after  his  lord  had  spoken  a 
little  to  him,  said  aloud  ;  "  My  lord  would  have 
you  know,  that  it  is  not  of  pride  or  greatness  that 
he  cometh  not  aboard  your  ship ;  but  for  that  in 
your  answer  you  declare,  that  you  have  many 
sick  amongst  you,  he  was  warned  by  the  conser 
vator  of  health  of  the  city,  that  he  should  keep  a 
distance."  W~e  bowed  ourselves  towards  him 
and  answered,  "we  were  his  humble  servants; 
and  accounted  for  great  honour,  and  singular 
humanity  to\vards  us,  that  which  was  already 
done  ;  but  hoped  well,  that  the  nature  of  the  sick 
ness  of  our  men  was  not  infectious."  So  he  re 
turned  ;  and  a  while  after  came  the  notary  to  us 
aboard  our  ship,  holding  in  his  hand  a  fruit  of  that 
country,  like  an  orange,  but  of  colour  between 
orange-tawney  and  scarlet,  which  cast  a  most  ex 
cellent  odour.  He  used  it,  as  it  seemeth,  for  a 
preservative  against  infection.  He  gave  us  our 
oath ;  "  By  the  name  of  Jesus  and  his  merits :" 
and  after  told  us,  that  the  next  day  by  six  of  the 
clock  in  the  morning  we  should  be  sent  to,  and 
brought  to  the  Strangers'  House,  so  he  called  it, 
where  we  should  be  accommodated  of  things, 
both  for  our  whole  and  for  our  sick.  So  he  left 
us  ;  and  when  we  offered  him  some  pistolets,  he 
smiling,  said,  "  he  must  not  be  twice  paid  for  one 
labour  :"  meaning,  as  I  take  it,  that  he  had  salary 
sufficient  of  the  state  for  his  service.  For,  as  I 
after  learned,  they  call  an  officer  that  taketh  re 
wards,  Twice-paid. 

The  next  morning  early,  there  came  to  us  ths 
same  officer  that  came  to  us  at  first  with  his  cane, 
and  told  us,  "he  came  to  conduct  us'to  the  Stran 
gers'  House  :  and  that  he  had  prevented  the  hour, 
because  we  might  have  the  whole  day  before  ns 
for  our  business.  For,"  said  he,  "if  you  will 
follow  my  advice,  there  shall  first  go  with  me 
I  some  few  of  you ;  and  see  the  place,  and  how  it 
may  be  made  convenient  for  you ;  and  then  you 
may  send  for  your  sick,  and  the  rest  of  your  num 
ber,  which  ye  will  bring  on  land."  We  thanked 
him,  and  said,  that  this  care,  which  he  took  of 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


257 


desolate  strangers  God  would  reward.  And  so 
six  of  us  went  on  land  with  him :  and  when  we 
were  on  land,  he  went  before  us,  and  turned  to  us, 
and  said,  "  he  was  but  our  servant,  and  our  guide." 
He  led  us  through  three  fair  streets ;  and  all  the 
way  we  went  there  were  gathered  some  people 
on  both  sides,  standing  in  a  row ;  but  in  so  civil 
a  fashion,  as  if  it  had  been,  not  to  wonder  at  us 
but  to  welcome  us ;  and  divers  of  them,  as  we 
passed  by  them,  put  their  arms  a  little  abroad ; 
which  is  their  gesture  when  they  bid  any  wel 
come.  The  Strangers'  House  is  a  fair  and  spa 
cious  house,  built  of  brick,  of  somewhat  a  bluer 
colour  than  our  brick ;  and  with  handsome  win 
dows,  some  of  glass,  some  of  a  kind  of  cambric 
oiled.  He  brought  us  first  into  a  fair  parlour 
above  stairs,  and  then  asked  us,  "  What  number 
of  persons  we  were?  And  how  many  sick?" 
We  answered,  "we  were  in  all,  sick  and  whole, 
one-and-fifty  persons,  whereof  our  sick  were 
seventeen."  He  desired  us  to  have  patience  a 
little,  and  to  stay  till  he  came  back  to  us,  which 
was  about  an  hour  after;  and  then  he  led  us  to 
see  the  chambers,  which  were  provided  for  us, 
being  in  number  nineteen :  they  having  cast  it,  as 
it  seemeth,  that  four  of  those  chambers,  which 
were  better  than  the  rest,  might  receive  four  of 
the  principal  men  of  our  company,  and  lodge  them 
alone  by  themselves ;  and  the  other  fifteen  cham 
bers,  were  to  lodge  us  two  and  two  together. 
The  chambers  were  handsome  and  cheerful  cham 
bers,  and  furnished  civilly.  Then  he  led  us  to  a 
long  gallery,  like  a  dorture,  where  he  showed  us 
along  the  one  side,  for  the  other  side  was  but 
wall  and  window,  seventeen  cells,  very  neat  ones, 
having  partitions  of  cedar  wood.  Which  gallery 
and  cells,  being  in  all  forty,  many  more  than  we 
needed,  were  instituted  as  an  infirmary  for  sick 
persons.  And  he  told  us  withal,  that  as  any  of 
our  sick  waxed  well,  he  might  be  removed  from 
his  cell  to  a  chamber;  for  which  purpose  there 
were  set  forth  ten  spare  chambers,  besides  the 
number  we  spake  of  before.  This  done,  he 
brought  us  back  to  the  parlour,  and  lifting  up  his 
cane  a  little,  as  they  do  when  they  give  any  charge 
or  command,  said  to  us,  "  Ye  are  to  know  that  the 
custom  of  the  land  requireth,  that  after  this  day 
and  to-morrow,  which  we  give  you  for  removing 
of  your  people  from  your  ship,  you  are  to  keep 
within  doors  for  three.d&rs.  But  let  it  not  trou 
ble  you,  nor  do  not  thiiiR  yourselves  re^tr£inl$, 
but  gather  left  to  your  rest  and  ease,  ^i^b  shall 
wantVething,  and  there  are  six  of.  our  people  ap 
pointed  to  attend  you  for  any  business  you  may 
have  ahfoad."  We  gave  him  thanks  with  all 
affection  and  respect,  arid*  said,  "God  surely*is 
manifested-  in  this  land."  We  offered  him  also 
twenty  pistolets;  but  he^smijad »  and1  only  said  £ 
"  What  ?  tx^ice  paid  !"  And  so  he  left  us.  Soon 
after  our  dinner  was  served  in ;  which  was  right 
good  viands,  both  for  bread  and  meat :  better  than 
VOL.  I.— 33 


any  collegiate  diet  that  I  have  known  in  Europe. 
We  had  also  drink  of  three  sorts,  all  wholesome 
and  good  ;  wine  of  the  grape ;  a  drink  of  grain, 
such  as  is  with  us  our  ale  but  more  clear ;  and  a 
kind  of  cider  made  of  a  fruit  of  that  country ;  a  won 
derful  pleasing  and  refreshing  drink.  Besides, 
there  were  brought  into  us  great  store  of  those 
scarlet  oranges  for  our  sick ;  which,  they  said, 
were  an  assured  remedy  for  sickness  taken  at  sea. 
There  was  given  us  also,  a  box  of  small  gray  or 
whitish  pills,  which  they  wished  our  sick  should 
take,  one  of  the  pills  every  night  before  sleep ; 
which,  they  said,  would  hasten  their  recovery. 
The  next  day,  after  that  our  trouble  of  carriage, 
and  removing  of  our  men  and  goods  out  of  our 
ship  was  somewhat  settled  and  quiet,  I  thought 
good  to  call  our  company  together  ;  and  when 
they  were  assembled  said  unto  them  ;  "  My  dear 
friends,  let  us  know  ourselves,  and  how  it  stand- 
eth  with  us.  We  are  men  cast  on  land,  as  Jonas 
was,  out  of  the  whale's  belly,  when  we  were 
as  buried  in  the  deep  ;  and  now  we  are  on  land, 
we  are  but  between  death  and  life ;  for  we  are  be 
yond  both  the  old  world  and  the  new  ;  and  whe 
ther  ever  we  shall  see  Europe,  God  only  knoweth. 
It  is  a  kind  of  miracle  hath  brought  us  hither : 
and  it  must  be  little  less  that  shall  bring  us  hence. 
Therefore  in  regard  of  our  deliverance  past, 
and  our  danger  present  and  to  come,  let  us 
look  up  to  God,  and  every  man  reform  his  own 
ways.  Besides  we  are  come  here  amongst  a 
Christian  people,  full  of  piety  and  humanity ;  let 
us  not  bring  that  confusion  of  face  upon  our 
selves,  as  to  show  our  vices  or  unworthiness  be 
fore  them.  Yet  there  is  more  :  for  they  have  by 
commandment,  though  in  form  of  courtesy,  clois 
tered  us  within  these  walls  for  three  days  :  who 
knoweth  whether  it  be  not  to  take  some  taste  of 
our  manners  and  conditions?  and  if  they  find 
them  bad,  to  banish  us  straightways ;  if  good,  to 
give  us  further  time.  For  these  men,  that  they 
have  given  us  for  attendance,  may  withal  have  an 
eye  upon  us.  Therefore  for  God's  love,  and  as 
we  love,  the  weal  of  our  souls  and  bodies,  let  us 
so  behave  ourselves  as  we  may  be  at  peace  with 
God,  and  may  find  grace  in  the  eyes  of  this  peo 
ple."  Our  company  with  one  voice  thanked  me 
for  my  good  admonition,  and  promised  me  to  live 
soberly  and  civilly,  and  without  giving  any  the 
least  occasion  of  offence.  So  we  spent  our  three 
days  joyfully,  and  without  care,  in  expectation 
what  wauld  be  done  with  us  when  they  were  ex 
pired.  During  which  time,  we  had  every  hour 
joy  of  the  amendment  of  our  sick/who  thought 
themselves  castxinto  some  divine  pool  of  healing, 
the^mdnded  s®  Singly  and  st  fast.\  m  ^  . 

The  morrow  after  our  th|pe  days  were>palt, 
,  there  oarne  to  us  a  new  man,  that  we  had  not  seen 
before,  cfoflled  in  ^e*  asN;h^'foraier^a*£  s&ve 
that  his  tuiban  was  white,with  a  smafl  red  cross 
on  the  top.  He  had  also  a  tippet  of  fine  linen 

Y2 


258 


NEW  ATLANTIS, 


At  his  coming  in  he  did  bend  to  us  a  little,  and 
put  his  arms  abroad.  We  of  our  parts  saluted 
him  in  a  very  lowly  and  submissive  manner,  as 
looking  that  from  him  we  should  receive  sentence 
of  life  or  death.  He  desired  to  speak  with  some 
few  of  us :  whereupon  six  of  us  only  stayed,  and 
the  rest  avoided  the  room.  He  said,  "I  am  by 
office  governor  of  this  House  of  Strangers,  and 
by  vocation  I  am  a  Christian  priest;  and  there 
fore  am  come  to  you,  to  offer  you  my  service,  both 
as  strangers  and  chiefly  as  Christians.  Some 
things  I  may  tell  you,  which  I  think  you  will  not 
be  unwilling  to  hear.  The  state  hath  given  you 
licence  to  stay  on  land  for  the  space  of  six  weeks  : 
and  let  it  not  trouble  you  if  your  occasions  ask 
further  time,  for  the  law  in  this  point  is  not  pre 
cise;  and  I  do  not  doubt  but  myself  shall  be  able 
to  obtain  for  you  such  further  time  as  maybe  con 
venient.  Ye  shall  also  understand,  that  the 
Strangers'  House  is  at  this  time  rich,  and  much 
aforehand ;  for  it  hath  laid  up  revenue  these  thir 
ty-seven  years  ;  for  so  long  it  is  since  any  stranger 
arrived  in  this  part :  and  therefore  take  ye  no  care ; 
the  state  will  defray  you  all  the  time  you  stay ; 
neither  shall  you  stay  one  day  the  less  for  that. 
As  for  any  merchandise  ye  have  brought,  ye  shall 
be  well  used,  and  have  your  return  either  in  mer 
chandise  or  in  gold  and  silver  :  for  to  us  it  is  all 
one.  And  if  you  have  any  other  request  to  make, 
hide  it  not.  For  ye  shall  find,  we  will  not  make 
your  countenance  to  fall  by  the  answer  ye  shall 
receive.  Only  this  I  must  tell  you,  tbat  none  of 
you  must  go  above  a  karan"  that  is  with  them  a 
mile  and  a  half,  "  from  the  walls  of  the  city  with 
out  special  leave."  We  answered,  after  we  had 
looked  awhile  one  upon  another,  admiring  this 
gracious  and  parent-like  usage ;  "  that  we  could 
not  tell  what  to  say  :  for  we  wanted  words  to  ex 
press  our  thanks;  and  his  noble  free  offers  left  us 
nothing  to  ask.  It  seemed  to  us,  that  we  had  be 
fore  us  a  picture  of  our  salvation  in  heaven ;  for 
we  that  were  awhile  since  in  the  jaws  of  death, 
were  now  brought  into  a  place  where  we  found 
nothing  but  consolations.  For  the  commandment 
laid  upon  us,  we  would  not  fail  to  obey  it,  though 
it  was  impossible  but  our  hearts  should  be  in 
flamed  to  tread  further  upon  this  happy  and  holy 
ground."  We  added  ;  "that  our  tongues  should 
first  cleave  to  the  roofs  of  our  mouths,  ere  we 
should  forget  either  his  reverend  person  or  this 
whole  nation  in  our  prayers."  We  also  most 
humbly  besought  him  to  accept  of  us  as  his  true  ser 
vants,  by  as  just  a  right  as  ever  men  on  earth  were 
boimden,  laying  and  presenting  both  our  persons 
and  all  we  had  at  his  feet.  He  said  ;  "he  was  a 
priest,  and  looked  for  a  priest's  reward ;  which 
was  our  brotherly  love  and  the  good  of  our  souls 
and  bodies."  So  he  went  from  us,  not  without 
tears  of  tenderness  in  his  eyes ;  and  left  us  also 
confused  with  joy  and  kindness,  saying  amongst 
ourselves,  "  that  we  were  come  into  a  land  of 


angels,  which  did  appear  to  us  daily,  and  prevent 
us  with  comforts  which  we  thought  not  of,  much 
less  expected." 

The  next  day,  about  ten  of  the  clock,  the  go 
vernor  came  to  us  again,  and  after  salutations  said 
familiarly,  that  he  was  come  to  visit  us :  and  called 
for  a  chair,  and  sat  him  down  :  and  we  being  some 
ten  of  us,  the  rest  were  of  the  meaner  sort,  or  else 
gone  abroad,  sat  down  with  him.  And  when  we 
were  set,  he  began  thus  :  "  We  of  this  island  of 
Bensalem,"  for  so  they  call  it  in  their  language, 
have  this,  that  by  means  of  our  solitary  situation, 
and  of  the  laws  of  secrecy  which  we  have  for  our 
travellers,  and  our  rare  admission  of  strangers,  we 
know  well  most  part  of  the  habitable  world  and 
are  ourselves  unknown.  Therefore,  because  he 
that  knowest  least  is  fittest  to  ask  questions,  it  is 
more  reason  for  the  entertainment  of  the  time,  that 
ye  ask  me  questions,  than  that  I  ask  you."  We 
answered ;  "  That  we  humbly  thanked  him  that 
he  would  give  us  leave  so  to  do  :  and  that  we  con 
ceived  by  the  taste  we  had  already,  that  there  was 
no  worldly  thing  on  earth  more  worthy  to  be 
known  than  the  state  of  that  happy  land.  But 
above  all,"  we  said,  "  since  that  we  were  met  from 
the  several  ends  of  the  world,  and  hoped  assuredly 
that  we  should  meet  one  day  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  for  that  we  were  both  parts  Christians, 
we  desired  to  know,  in  respect  that  land  was  so 
remote,  and  so  divided  by  vast  and  unknown  seas, 
from  the  land  where  our  Saviour  walked  on  earth; 
who  was  'the  apostle  of  that  nation,  and  how  it 
was  converted  to  the  faith  T'  It  appeared  in  his 
face  that  he  took  great  contentment  in  this  our 
question :  he  said,  "  Ye  knit  my  heart  to  you,  by 
asking  this  question  in  the  first  place;  for  it 
showeth  that  you  '  first  seek  the  kingdom  of  hea 
ven  ;'  and  I  shall  gladly  and  briefly  satisfy  your 
demand. 

"  About  twenty  years  after  the  ascension  of  our 
Saviour,  it  came  to  pass,  that  there  was  seen  by 
the  people  of  Renfusa,  a  city  upon  the  eastern 
coast  of  our  island,  within  night,  the  night  was 
cloudy  and  calm,  as  it  might  be  some  mile  into 
the  sea,  a  great  pillar  of  light ;  not  sharp,  but  in 
form  of  a  column  or  cylinder  rising  from  the  sea  a 
great  way  up  towards  heaven :  and  on  the  top  of 
it  was  seen  a  large  cross  of  light  more  bright  and 
resplendent  than  the  body  of  the  pillar.  Upon 
which  so  strange  a  spectacle,  the  people  of  the 
city  gathered  apace  together  upon  the  sands  to 
wonder^  and  so  after  put  themselves  into  a  num 
ber  of  small  boats,  to  go  nearer  to  this  marvellous 
sight.  But  when  the  boats  were  come  within 
about  sixty  yards  of  the  pillar,  they  found  them 
selves  all  bound,  and  could  go  no  further,  yet  so 
as  they  might  move  to  go  about,  but  might  not 
approach  nearer :  so  as  £he  boats  stood  all  as  in  a 
theatre,  beholding  this  light  as  an  heavenly  sign. 
It  so  fell  out,  that  there  was  in  one  of  the  boats 
one  of  the  wise  men  of  the  society  of  Solomon's 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


259 


House,  which  house  or  college,  my  good  brethren, 
is  the  very  eye  of  this  kingdom;  who  having 
awhile  attentively  and  devoutly  viewed  and  con 
templated  this  pillar  and  cross,  fell  down  upon 
his  face ;  and  then  raised  himself  upon  his  knees, 
and  lifting  up  his  hands  to  heaven,  made  his 
prayers  in  this  manner : 

"'Lord  God  of  heaven  and  earth,  thou  hast 
vouchsafed  of  thy  grace,  to  those  of  our  order,  to 
know  thy  works  of  creation,  and  the  secrets  of 
them ;  and  to  discern,  as  far  as  appertained!  to 
the  generations  of  men,  between  divine  miracles, 
works  of  nature,  works  of  art,  and  impostures  and 
illusions  of  all  sorts.  I  do  here  acknowledge  and 
testify  before  this  people,  that  the  thing  which  we 
now  see  before  our  eyes,  is  thy  finger,  and  a  true 
miracle ;  and  forasmuch  as  we  learn  in  our  books, 
that  thou  never  workest  miracles,  but  to  a  divine 
and  excellent  end,  for  the  laws  of  nature  are 
thine  own  laws,  and  thou  exceedest  them  not  but 
upon  great  cause,  we  most  humbly  beseech  thee 
to  prosper  this  great  sign,  and  to  give  us  the 
interpretation  and  use  of  it  in  mercy ;  which  thou 
dost  in  some  part  secretly  promise  by  sending  it 
unto  us.' 

"  When  he  had  made  his  prayer,  he  presently 
found  the  boat  he  was  in  movable  and  unbound  : 
whereas  all  the  rest  remained  still  fast;  and  taking 
that  for  an  assurance  of  leave  to  approach,  he 
caused  the  boat  to  be  softly  and  with  silence  rowed 
towards  the  pillar.  But  ere  he  came  near  it,  the 
pillar  and  cross  of  light  brake  up,  and  cast  itself 
abroad,  as  it  were  into  a  firmament  of  many  stars ; 
which  also  vanished  soon  after,  and  there  was  no 
thing  left  to  be  seen  but  a  small  ark  or  chest  of 
cedar,  dry,  and  not  wet  at  all  with  water,  though 
it  swam.  And  in  the  fore-end  of  it,  which  was 
towards  him,  grew  a  small  green  branch  of  palm ; 
and  when  the  wise  man  had  taken  it  with  all  re 
verence  into  his  boat,  it  opened  of  itself,  and  there 
were  found  in  it  a  book  and  a  letter,  both  written 
in  fine  parchment,  and  wrapped  in  sindons  of  linen. 
The  book  contained  all  the  canonical  books  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testament,  according  as  you  have 
them,  for  we  know  well  what  the  churches  with 
you  receive,  and  the  Apocalypse  itself:  and  some 
other  books  of  the  New  Testament,  which  were 
not  at  that  time  written,  were  nevertheless  in  the 
book  :  and  for  the  letter  it  was  in  these  words  : 

" '  I,  Bartholomew,  a  servant  of  the  Highest,  and 
apostle  of  Jesus  Christ,  was  warned  by  an  angel 
that  appeared  to  me  in  a  vision  of  glory,  that  I 
should  commit  this  ark  to  the  floods  of  the  sea. 
Therefore  I  do  testify  and  declare,  unto  that  people 
where  God  shall  ordain  this  ark  to  come  to  land, 
that  in  the  same  day  is  come  unto  them  salvation, 
and  peace,  and  good-will,  from  the  Father,  and 
from  the  Lord  Jesus.' 

"  There  was  also  in  both  these  writings,  as  well 
the  book  as  the  letter,  wrought  a  great  miracle, 
conform  to  that  of  the  apostles  in  the  original  gift 


of  tongues.  For  there  being  at  that  time  in  this 
land,  Hebrews,  Persians  and  Indians,  besides  the 
natives,  every  one  read  upon  the  book  and  letter, 
as  if  they  had  been  written  in  his  own  language. 
And  thus  was  this  land  saved  from  infidelity,  as 
the  remain  of  the  old  world  was  from  water,  by 
an  ark,  through  the  apostolical  and  miraculous" 
evangelism  of  St.  Bartholomew."  And  here  he 
paused,  and  a  messenger  came,  and  called  him 
from  us.  So  this  was  all  that  passed  in  that  con 
ference. 

The  next  day  the  same  governor  came  again  to 
us  immediately  after  dinner,  and  excused  himself, 
saying,  "  that  the  day  before  he  was  called  from 
us  somewhat  abruptly,  but  now  he  would  make 
us  amends,  and  spend  time  with  us,  if  we  held 
his  company  and  conference  agreeable :"  We 
answered,  "that  we  held  it  so  agreeable  and 
pleasing  to  us,  as  we  forgot  both  dangers  past 
and  fears  to  come  for  the  time  we  heard  him 
speak ;  and  that  we  thought  an  hour  spent  with 
him  was  worth  years  of  our  former  life."  He 
bowed  himself  a  little  to  us,  and  after  we  were 
set  again,  he  said  ;  "  Well  the  questions  are  on 
your  part."  One  of  pur  number  said,  after  a 
little  pause ;  "  that  there  was  a  matter  we  were 
no  less  desirous  to  know,  than  fearful  to  ask,  lest 
we  might  presume  too  far.  But  encouraged  by 
his  rare  humanity  towards  us,  that  could  scarce 
think  ourselves  strangers,  being  his  vowed  and 
professed  servants,  we  would  take  the  hardiness 
to  propound  it :  humbly  beseeching  him,  if  he 
thought  it  not  fit  to  be  answered,  that  he  would 
pardon  it,  though  he  rejected  it."  We  said; 
"we  well  observed  those  his  words  which  he  for 
merly  spake,  that  this  happy  island  where  we 
now  stood,  was  knowTn  to  few,  and  yet  knew 
most  of  the  nations  of  the  world  ;  which  we 
found  to  be  true,  considering  they  had  the  lan 
guages  of  Europe,  and  knew  much  of  our  state 
and  business ;  and  yet  we  in  Europe,  notwith 
standing  all  the  remote  discoveries  and  naviga 
tions  of  this  last  age,  never  heard  any  of  the  least 
inkling  or  glimpse  of  this  island.  This  we  found 
wonderful  strange;  for  that  all  nations  have 
inter-knowledge  one  of  another  either  by  voyage 
into  foreign  parts,  or  by  strangers  that  come  to 
them :  and  though  the  traveller  into  a  foreign 
country  doth  commonly  know  more  by  the  eye, 
than  he  that  stayeth  at  home  can  by  relation  of 
the  traveller;  yet  both  ways  suffice  to  make  a 
mutual  knowledge,  in  some  degree,  on  both  parts. 
But  for  this  island,  we  never  heard  tell  of  any 
ship  of  theirs  that  had  been  seen  to  arrive  upon 
any  shore  of  Europe ;  no,  nor  of  either  the  East 
or  West  Indies,  nor  yet  of  any  ship  of  any  other 
part  of  the  world,  that  had  made  return  from 
them.  And  yet  the  marvel  rested  not  in  this. 
For  the  situation  of  it,  as  his  lordship  said,  in  the 
secret  conclave  of  such  a  vast  sea  might  cause  it. 
But  then,  that  they  should  have  knowledge  of 


260 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


the  languages,  books,  affairs,  of  those  that  lie 
such  a  distance  from  them,  it  was  a  thing  we 
could  not  tell  what  to  make  of;  for  that  it  seemed 
to  us  a  condition  and  propriety  of  divine  powers 
and  beings,  to  be  hidden  and  unseen  to  others, 
and  yet  to  have  others  open,  and  as  in  a  light  to 
them."  At  this  speech  the  governor  gave  a  gra 
cious  smile,  and  said  ;  "that  we  did  well  to  ask 
pardon  for  this  question  we  now  asked  ;  for  that 
it  imported,  as  if  we  thought  this  land  a  land  of 
magicians,  that  sent  forth  spirits  of  the  air  into  all 
parts,  to  bring  them  news  and  intelligence  of 
other  countries."  It  was  answered  by  us  all,  in 
all  possible  humbleness,  but  yet  with  a  counte 
nance  taking  knowledge  that  we  knew  that  he 
spake  it  but  merrily,  "  That  we  were  apt  enough 
to  think  there  was  something  supernatural  in  this 
island,  but  yet  rather  as  angelical  than  magical. 
But  to  let  his  lordship  know  truly,  what  it  was 
that  made  us  tender  and  doubtful  to  ask  this 
question,  it  was  not  any  such  conceit,  but  because 
we  remembered,  he  had  given  a  touch  in  his  for 
mer  speech,  that  this  land  had  laws  of  secrecy 
touching  strangers."  To  this  he  said  ;  "  You  re 
member  it  aright;  and  therefore  in  that  I  shall 
say  to  you,  I  must  reserve  some  particulars,  which 
it  is  not  lawful  for  me  to  reveal ;  but  there  will 
be  enough  left  to  give  you  satisfaction. 

"  You  shall  understand,  that  which  perhaps 
you  will  scarce  think  credible,  that  about  three 
thousand  years  ago,  or  somewhat  more,  the  navi 
gation  of  the  world,  especially  for  remote  voyages, 
was  greater  than  at  this  day.  Do  not  think  with 
yourselves,  that  I  know  not  how  much  it  is  in 
creased  with  you  within  these  six-score  years : 
I  know  it  well ;  and  yet  I  say  greater  then  than 
now :  whether  it  was,  that  the  example  of  the 
ark,  that  saved  the  remnant  of  men  from  the  uni 
versal  deluge,  gave  men  confidence  to  adventure 
upon  the  waters,  or  what  it  was,  but  such  is  the 
truth.  The  Phoenicians,  -  and  especially  the 
Tyrians,  had  great  fleets.  So  had  the  Cartha 
ginians  their  colony,  which  is  yet  further  west. 
Toward  the  east,  the  shipping  of  Egypt,  and  of 
Palestine,  was  likewise  great.  China  also,  and 
the  great  Atlantis,  that  you  call  America,  which 
have  now  but  junks  and  canoes,  abounded  then 
in  tall  ships.  This  island,  as  appeareth  by  faith 
ful  registers  of  those  times,  had  then  fifteen  hun 
dred  strong  ships,  of  great  content.  Of  all  this 
there  is  with  you  sparing  memory,  or  none ;  but 
\ve  have  large  knowledge  thereof. 

"  At  that  time,  this  land  was  known  and  frequent 
ed  by  the  ships  and  vessels  of  all  the  nations  be 
fore  named.  And  as  it  cometh  to  pass,  they  had 
many  times  men  of  other  countries,  that  were  no 
sailors,  that  came  with  them  ;  as  Persians,  Chal 
deans,  Arabians,  so  as  almost  all  nations  of  might 
and  fame  resorted  hither;  of  whom  we  have  some 
stirps  and  little  tribes  with  us  at  this  day.  And 
for  our  own  ships,  they  went  sundry  voyages,  as 


well  to  your  straits  which  you  call  the  pillars  of 
Hercules,  as  to  the  other  part  in  the  Atlantic  arid 
Mediterranean  Seas  ;  as  to  Peguin,  which  is  the 
same  with  Cambaline,  and  Quinzy,  upon  the 
Oriental  Seas ;  as  far  as  to  the  borders  of  the  East 
Tartary. 

"At  the  same  time,  and  an  age  after,  or  more, 
the  inhabitants  of  the  great  Atlantis  did  flourish. 
For  though  the  narration  and  description  which  is 
made  by  a  great  man  with  you,  that  the  descend 
ants  of  Neptune  planted  there ;  and  of  the  magni 
ficent  temple,  palace,  city,  and  hill ;  and  the  mani 
fold  streams  of  goodly  navigable  rivers,  which,  as 
so  many  chains,  environed  the  same  site  and  tem 
ple  ;  and  the  several  degrees  of  ascent,  whereby  men 
did  climb  up  to  the  same,  as  if  it  had  been  a  scala 
cceli,  be  all  poetical  and  fabulous :  yet  so  much  is 
true,  that  the  said  country  of  Atlantis,  as  well  as 
that  of  Peru,  then  called  Coya,  as  that  of  Mexico, 
then  named  Tyrambel,  were  mighty  and  proud 
kingdoms  in  arms,  shipping,  and  riches :  so 
mighty,  as  at  one  time,  or  at  least  within  the 
space  of  ten  years,  they  both  made  two  great  ex 
peditions,  they  of  Tyrambel,  through  the  Atlantic 
to  the  Mediterranean  Sea ;  and  they  of  Coya, 
through  the  South  Sea  upon  this  our  island  :  and 
for  the  former  of  these,  which  was  into  Europe, 
the  same  author  amongst  you,  as  it  seemeth,  had 
some  relation  from  the  ./Egyptian  priest  whom  he 
citeth.  For  assuredly,  such  a  thing  there  was, 
but  whether  it  were  the  ancient  Athenians  that 
had  the  glory  of  the  repulse  and  resistance  of 
those  forces,  I  can  say  nothing :  but  certain  it  is, 
there  never  came  back  either  ship  or  man  from 
that  voyage.  Neither  had  the  other  voyage  of 
those  of  Coya  upon  us  better  fortune,  if  they  had 
not  met  with  enemies  of  greater  clemency.  For 
the  king  of  this  island,  by  name  Altabin,  a  wise 
man  and  a  great  warrior  ;  knowing  well  both  his 
own  strength  and  that  of  his  enemies  ;  handled 
the  matter  so,  as  he  cut  off  their  land-forces  from 
their  ships,  and  entoiled  both  their  navy  and  their 
camp,  with  a  greater  power  than  theirs,  both 
by  sea  and  land ;  and  compelled  them  to  render 
themselves  without  striking  stroke :  and  after 
they  were  at  his  mercy,  contenting  himself  only 
with  their  oath,  that  they  should  no  more  bear 
arms  against  him,  dismissed  them  all  in  safety. 
But  the  divine  revenge  overtook  not  long  after 
those  proud  enterprises.  For  within  less  than 
the  space  of  one  hundred  years,  the  great  Atlantis 
was  utterly  lost  and  destroyed  :  not  by  a  great 
earthquake,  as  your  man  saith,  for  that  whole 
tract  is  little  subject  to  earthquakes,  but  by  a  par 
ticular  deluge  or  inundation :  those  countries 
having,  at  this  day  far  greater  rivers,  and  far 
higher  mountains,  to  pour  down  waters,  than  any 
part  of  the  old  world.  But  it  is  true,  that  the 
same  inundation  was  not  deep ;  not  past  forty 
foot,  in  most  places,  from  the  ground ;  so  that 
although  it  destroyed  man  and  beast  generally, 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


261 


yet  some  few  wild  inhabitants  of  the  wood  es 
caped.  Birds  also  were  saved  by  flying  to  the 
high  trees  and  woods.  For  as  for  men,  although 
they  had  buildings  'in  many  places  higher  than 
the  depth  of  the  water  ;  yet  that  inundation, 
though  it  were  shallow,  had  a  long  continuance ; 
whereby  they  of  the  vale,  that  were  not  drowned, 
perished  for  want  of  food  and  other  things  neces 
sary.  So  as  marvel  you  not  at  the  thin  population 
of  America,  nor  at  the  rudeness  and  ignorance  of 
the  people ;  for  you  must  account  your  inhabitants 
of  America  as  a  young  people ;  younger  a  thou 
sand  years  at  the  least  than  the  rest  of  the  world  ; 
for  that  there  was  so  much  time  between  the  uni 
versal  flood  and  their  particular  inundation.  For 
the  poor  remnant  of  human  seed,  which  remained 
in  their  mountains,  peopled  the  country  again  slow 
ly,  by  little  and  little :  and  being  simple  and  savage 
people,  not  like  Noah  and  his  sons,  which  was 
the  chief  family  of  the  earth,  they  were  not  able 
to  leave  letters,  arts,  and  civility  to  their  posterity  ; 
and  having  likewise  in  their  mountainous  habita 
tions  been  used,  in  respect  of  the  extreme  cold  of 
those  regions,  to  clothe  themselves  with  the  skins 
of  tigers,  bears,  and  great  hairy  goats,  that  they 
have  in  those  parts;  when  after  they  came  down 
into  the  valley,  and  found  the  intolerable  heats 
which  are  there,  and  knew  no  means  of  lighter 
apparel,  they  were  forced  to  begin  the  custom  of 
going  naked,  which  continueth  at  this  day.  Only 
they  take  great  pride  and  delight  in  the  feathers 
of  birds  ;  and  this  also  they  took  from  those  their 
ancestors  of  the  mountains,  who  were  invited  unto 
it  by  the  infinite  flights  of  birds,  that  came  up  to 
the  high  grounds,  while  the  waters  stood  below. 
So  you  see,  by  this  main  accident  of  time,  we 
lost  our  traffic  with  the  Americans,  with  whom, 
of  all  others,  in  regard  they  lay  nearest  to  us,  we 
had  most  commerce.  As  for  the  other  parts  of 
the  world,  it  is  most  manifest,  that  in  the  ages 
following,  whether  it  were  in  respect  of  wars,  or 
by  a  natural  revolution  of  time,  navigation  did 
everywhere  greatly  decay;  and  especially  far 
voyages,  the  rather  by  the  use  of  galleys,  and 
such  vessels  as  could  hardly  brook  the  ocean, 
were  altogether  left  and  omitted.  So  then,  that 
part  of  intercourse  which  could  be  from  other  na 
tions  to  sail  to  us,  you  see  how  it  hath  long  since 
eeased ;  except  it  were  hy  some  rare  accident,  as 
this  of  yours.  But  now  of  the  cessation  of  that 
other  part  of  intercourse,  which  might  be  by  our 
sailing  to  other  nations,  I  must  yield  you  some 
other  ortti»e.  For  I  cannot  say,  if  I  shall  say 
truly,  but  our  shipping,  for  number,  strength,  ma 
riners,  pilots,  and  all  other  things  that  appertain 
to  navigation,  is  as  great  as  ever:  and  therefore 
why  should  we  sit  at  home,  1  shall  now  give  you 
an  account  by  itself:  and  it  will  draw  nearer  to 
give  you  satisfaction  to  your  principal  question. 

"  There  reigned  in  this  island  about  nineteen 
hundred  years  ago,  a  king  whose  memory  of  all 


others  we  most  adore ;  not  superstitiously,  but  ag 
a  divine  instrument,  though  a  mortal  man;  his 
name  was  Solomona:  and  we  esteem  him  as  the 
lawgiver  of  our  nation.  This  king  had  a  large 
heart,  inscrutable  for  good,  and  was  wholly  bent 
to  make  his  kingdom  and  people  happy.  He 
therefore,  taking  into  consideration  how  sufficient 
and  substantive  this  land  was  to  maintain  itself, 
without  any  aid  at  all  from  the  foreigner,  being 
five  thousand  six  hundred  miles  in  circuit,  and  of 
rare  fertility  of  soil,  in  the  greatest  part  thereof; 
and  finding  also  the  shipping  of  this  country 
might  be  plentifully  set  on  work,  both  by  fishing 
and  by  transportations  from  port  to  port,  and  like 
wise  by  sailing  unto  some  small  islands  that 
are  not  far  from  us,  and  are  under  the  crown  and 
laws  of  this  state ;  and  recalling  into  his  memory 
the  happy  and  flourishing  state  wherein  this  land 
was  :  so  as  it  might  be  a  thousand  ways  altered 
to  the  worse,  but  scarce  any  one  way  to  the  better ; 
thought  nothing  wanted  to  his  noble  and  heroical 
intentions,  but  only,  as  far  as  human  foresight 
might  reach,  to  give  perpetuity  to  that,  which 
was  in  his  time  so  happily  established.  Therefore 
amongst  his  other  fundamental  laws  of  this  king 
dom,  he  did  ordain  the  interdicts  and  prohibitions, 
which  we  have,  touching  entrance  of  strangers ; 
which,  at  that  time,  though  it  was  after  the  cala 
mity  of  America,  was  frequent ;  doubting  novel 
ties,  and  commixture  of  manners.  It  is  true,  the 
like  law,  against  the  admission  of  strangers 
without  licence  is  an  ancient  law  in  the  kingdom 
of  China,  and  yet  continued  in  use  :  but  there 
it  is  a  poor  thing;  and  hath  made  them  a  curious, 
ignorant,  fearful,  foolish  nation.  B  ut  our  lawgiver 
made  his  law  of  another  temper.  For  first,  he 
hath  preserved  all  points  of  humanity,  in  taking 
order,  and  making  provision  for  the  relief  of  stran 
gers  distressed,  whereof  you  have  tasted."  At 
which  speech,  as  reason  was,  we  all  rose  up,  and 
bowed  ourselves.  He  went  on.  "That  king  also 
still  desiring  to  join  humanity  and  policy  together . 
and  thinking  it  against  humanity  to  detain  stran 
gers  here  against  their  wills ;  and  against  policy 
that  they  should  return,  and  discover  their  know 
ledge  of  this  estate,  he  took  this  course ;  he  did 
ordain,  that  of  the  strangers  that  should  be  per 
mitted  to  land,  as  many,  at  all  times,  might  depart 
as  would ;  but  as  many  as  would  stay,  should 
have  very  good  conditions,  and  means  to  live, 
from  the  state.  Wherein  he  saw  so  far,  that  now 
in  so  many  ages  since  the  prohibition,  we  have 
memory,  not  of  one  ship  that  ever  returned,  and 
but  of  thirteen  persons  only,  at  several  times, 
that  chose  to  return  in  our  bottoms.  What  those 
few  that  returned  may  have  reported  abroad  I 
know  not :  but  you  must  think,  whatsoever  they 
have  said,  could  be  taken  where  they  came  but 
for  a  dream.  Now  for  our  travelling  from  hence 
into  parts  ahroad,  our  lawgiver  thought  fit  alto 
gether  to  restrain  it.  So  is  it  not  in  China.  For 


262 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


the  Chinese  sail  where  they  will  or  can ;  which 
showeth,  that  their  law  of  keeping  out  strangers  is 
a  law  of  pusillanimity  and  fear.  But  this  restraint 
of  ours  hath  one  only  exception,  which  is  admi 
rable;  preserving  the  good  which  cometh  by 
communicating  with  strangers,  and  avoiding  the 
hurt ;  and  I  will  now  open  it  to  you.  And  here  I 
shall  seem  a  little  to  digress,  but  you  will  by  and 
by  find  it  pertinent.  Ye  shall  understand,  my 
dear  friends,  that  amongst  the  excellent  acts  of 
that  king,  one  above  all  hath  the  pre-eminence. 
It  was  the  erection  and  institution  of  an  order  or 
society  which  we  call  Solomon's  House ;  the 
noblest  foundation,  as  we  think,  that  ever  was 
upon  the  earth,  and  the  lantern  of  this  kingdom. 
It  is  dedicated  to  the  study  of  the  works  and  crea 
tures  of  God.  Some  think  it  beareth  the  founder's 
name  a  little  corrupted,  as  if  it  should  be  Solo- 
mona's  House.  But  the  records  write  it  as  it  is 
spoken.  So  as  I  take  it  to  be  denominate  of  the 
King  of  the  Hebrews,  which  is  famous  with  you, 
and  no  stranger  to  us  ;  for  we  have  some  parts  of 
his  works,  which  with  you  are  lost ;  namely,  that 
Natural  History  which  he  wrote  of  all  plants, 
'from  the  cedar  of  Libanus,  to  the  moss  that 
groweth  out  of  the  wall ;'  and  of  all  things  that 
have  life  and  motion.  This  maketh  me  think, 
that  our  king,  finding  himself  to  symbolize  in 
many  things  with  that  king  of  the  Hebrews, 
which  lived  many  years  before  him,  honoured 
him  with  the  title  of  this  foundation.  And  I  am 
the  rather  induced  to  be  of  this  opinion,  for  that  I 
find  in  ancient  records  this  order  or  society  is 
sometimes  called  Solomon's  House,  and  some 
times  the  college  of  the  six  days'  works  ;  where 
by  I  am  satisfied,  that  our  excellent  king  had 
learned  from  the  Hebrews,  that  God  had  created 
the  world,  and  all  that  therein  is,  within  six  days ; 
and  therefore  he  instituting  that  house  for  the  find 
ing  out  of  the  true  nature  of  all  things,  whereby  God 
might  have  the  more  glory  in  the  workmanship 
of  them,  and  men  the  more  fruit  in  the  use  of 
them,  did  give  it  also  that  second  name.  But 
now  to  come  to  our  present  purpose.  When  the 
king  had  forbidden  to  all  his  people  navigation 
into  any  part  that  was  not  under  his  crown,  he 
made  nevertheless  this  ordinance ;  that  every 
twelve  years  there  should  be  set  forth,  out  of  this 
kingdom,  two  ships  appointed  to  several  voyages  : 
that  in  either  of  these  ships  there  should  be  a 
mission  of  three  of  the  fellows  or  brethren  of  So 
lomon's  House  ;  whose  errand  was  only  to  give 
us  knowledge  of  the  affairs  and  state  of  those 
countries  to  which  they  were  designed  ;  and  es 
pecially  of  the  sciences,  arts,  manufactures,  and 
inventions  of  all  the  world  ;  and  withal  to  bring 
unto  us  books,  instruments,  and  patterns  in 
every  kind  ;  that  the  ships,  after  they  had  landed 
the  brethren,  should  return ;  and  that  the  brethren 
should  stay  abroad  till  the  new  mission.  These 
ships  are  not  otherwise  fraught,  than  with  store 


of  victuals,  and  good  quantity  of  treasure  to  re 
main  with  the  brethren^  for  the  buying  of  such 
things,  and  rewarding  of  such  persons,  as  they 
should  think  fit.  Now  forme  to  tell  you  how  the 
vulgar  sort  of  mariners  are  contained  from  being 
discovered  at  land ;  and  how  they  that  must  be 
put  on  shore  for  any  time  colour  themselves  under 
the  names  of  other  nations ;  and  to  what  places 
these  voyages  have  been  designed ;  and  what 
places  of  rendezvous  are  appointed  for  the  new 
missions,  and  the  like  circumstances  of  the  prac- 
tique,  I  may  not  do  it  :  neither  is  it  much  to  your 
desire.  But  thus  you  see  we  maintain  a  trade, 
not  for  gold,  silver,  or  jewels  ;  nor  for  silks;  nor 
for  spices ;  nor  any  other  commodity  of  matter ; 
but  only  for  God's  first  creature,  which  was  light; 
to  have  light,  I  say,  of  the  growth  of  all  parts  of 
the  world.  And  when  he  had  said  this,  he  was 
silent;  and  so  were  we  all.  For  indeed  we  were 
all  astonished  to  hear  so  strange  things  so  proba 
bly  told.  And  he  perceiving  that  we  were  will 
ing  to  say  somewhat,  but  had  it  not  ready,  in 
great  courtesy  took  us  off,  and  descended  to  ask 
us  questions  of  our  voyage  and  fortunes,  and  in 
the  end  concluded,  that  we  might  do  well  to  think 
with  ourselves  what  time  of  stay  we  would  de 
mand  of  the  state  ;  and  bade  us  not  to  scant  our 
selves  ;  for  he  would  procure  such  time  as  we 
desired.  Whereupon  we  all  rose  up,  and  present 
ed  ourselves  to  kiss  the  skirt  of  his  tippet,  but 
he  would  not  suffer  us  ;  and  so  took  his  leave. 
But  when  it  came  once  amongst  our  people,  that 
the  state  used  to  offer  conditions  to  strangers  that 
would  stay,  we  had  work  enough  to  get  any  of 
our  men  to  look  to  our  ship  ;  and  to  keep  them 
from  going  presently  to  the  governor  to  crave 
conditions.  But  with  much  ado  we  refrained 
them,  till  we  might  agree  what  course  to  take. 

We  took  ourselves  now  for  free  men,  seeing  there 
was  no  danger  of  our  utter  perdition ;  and  lived 
most  joyfully,  going  abroad  and  seeing  what  was 
to  be  seen  in  the  city  and  places  adjacent  within 
our  tedder  ;  and  obtaining  acquaintance  with  many 
of  the  city,  not  of  the  meanest  quality  ;  at  whose 
hands  we  found  such  humanity,  and  such  a  free 
dom  and  desire  to  take  strangers  as  it  were  into 
their  bosom  as  was  enough  to  make  us  forget  all  that 
was  dear  to  us  in  our  own  countries  ;  and  continu 
ally  we  met  with  many  things  right  worthy  of  ob 
servation  and  relation ;  as  indeed,  if  there  be  a  mir 
ror  in  the  world  worthy  to  hold  men's  eyes,  it  is 
that  country.  One  day  there  were  two  of  our 
company  bidden  to  a  feast  of  the  family,  as  they 
call  it.  A  most  natural,  pious,  and  reverend  cus 
tom  it  is,  showing  that  nation  to  be  compounded 
of  all  goodness.  This  is  the  manner  of  it.  It  is 
granted  to  any  man,  that  shall  live  to  see  thirty 
persons  descended  of  his  body  alive  together,  and 
all  above  three  years  old,  to  make  this  feast, 
which  is  done  at  the  cost  of  the  state.  The  father 
of  the  family,  whom  they  call  the  Tirsan,  two 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


263 


days  before  the  feast,  taketh  to  him  three  of  such 
friends  as  he  liketh  to  choose ;  and  is  assisted 
also  by  the  governor  of  the  city,  or  place,  where 
the  feast  is  celebrated  :  and  all  the  persons  of  the 
family  of  both  sexes  are  summoned  to  attend  him. 
These  two  days  the  Tirsan  sitteth  in  consultation 
concerning  the  good  estate  of  the  family.  There,  if 
there  be  any  discord  or  suits  between  any  of  the  fa 
mily,  they  are  compounded  and  appeased.  There, 
if  any  of  the  family  be  distressed  or  decayed, 
order  is  taken  for  their  relief,  and  competent 
means  to  live.  There,  if  any  be  subject  to 
vice,  or  take  ill  courses,  they  are  reproved  and 
censured.  So  likewise  direction  is  given  touch 
ing  marriages,  and  the  courses  of  life  which  any 
of  them  should  take,  with  divers  other  the  like 
orders  and  advices.  The  governor  assisteth,  to 
the  end  to  put  in  execution,  by  his  public  authori 
ty,  the  decrees  and  orders  of  the  Tirsan,  if  they 
should  be  disobeyed  ;  though  that  seldom  needeth  : 
such  reverence  and  obedience  they  give  to  the  or 
der  of  nature.  The  Tirsan  doth  also  then  ever 
choose  one  man  from  amongst  his  sons,  to  live  in 
the  house  with  him :  who  is  called  ever  after  the  Son 
of  the  Vine.  The  reason  will  hereafter  appear. 
On  the  feast-day,  the  father,  or  Tirsan,  cometh  forth 
after  divine  service  into  a  large  room  where  the 
feast  is  celebrated  :  which  room  hath  a  half  pace 
at  the  upper  end.  Against  the  wall,  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  half  pace,  is  a  chair  placed  for  him, 
with  a  table  and  carpet  before  it.  Over  the  chair 
is  a  state  made  round  or  oval,  and  it  is  of  ivy ;  an 
ivy  somewhat  whiter  than  ours,  like  the  leaf  of  a 
silver  asp,  but  more  shining,  for  it  is  green  all 
winter.  And  the  state  is  curiously  wrought  with 
silver  and  silk  of  divers  colours,  broiding  or  bind 
ing  in  the  ivy ;  and  is  ever  the  work  of  some  of 
the  daughters  of  the  family :  and  veiled  over  at 
the  top  with  a  fine  net  of  silk  and  silver.  But 
the  substance  of  it  is  true  ivy ;  whereof,  after  it 
is  taken  down,  the  friends  of  the  family  are  desi 
rous  to  have  some  leaf  or  sprig  to  keep.  The 
Tirsan  cometh  forth  with  all  his  generation  or 
lineage,  the  males  before  him,  and  the  females 
following  him;  and  if  there  be  a  mother,  from 
whose  body  the  whole  lineage  is  descended,  there 
is  a  traverse  placed  in  a  loft  above  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  chair,  with  a  privy  door,  and  a  carved 
window  of  glass  leaded  with  gold  and  blue ; 
where  she  sitteth,  but  is  not  seen.  When  the 
Tirsan  is  come  forth,  he  sitteth  down  in  the  chair ; 
and  all  the  lineage  place  themselves  against  the 
wall,  both  at  his  back,  and  upon  the  return  of  the 
half  pace,  in  order  of  their  years,  without  differ 
ence  of  sex,  and  stand  upon  their  feet.  When  he 
is  set,  the  room  being  always  full  of  company, 
but  well  kept,  and  without  disorder ;  after  some 
pause  there  cometh  in  from  the  lower  end  of  the 
room  a  taratan,  which  is  as  much  as  an  herald,  and 
on  either  side  of  him  two  young  lads  ;  whereof  one 
carrieth  a  scroll  of  their  shining  yellow  parchment ; 


and  the  other  a  cluster  of  grapes  of  gold,  with  a 
iong  foot  or  stalk.  The  herald  and  children  are 
clothed  with  mantles  of  sea-water  green  satin  ; 
but  the  herald's  mantle  is  streamed  with  gold, 
and  hath  a  train.  Then  the  herald  with  three 
curtesies,  or  rather  inclinations,  cometh  up  as 
far  as  the  half  pace ;  and  there  first  taketh  in 
bis  hand  the  scroll.  This  scroll  is  the  king's 
charter,  containing  gift  of  revenue*  and  many  pri 
vileges,  exemptions,  and  points  of  honour,  granted 
to  the  father  of  the  family  ;  and  is  ever  styled 
and  directed,  "To  such  a  one,  our  well  beloved 
friend  and  creditor :"  which  is  a  title  proper  only 
to  this  case.  For  they  say,  the  king  is  debtor  to 
no  man,  but  for  propagation  of  his  subjects.  The 
seal  set  to  the  king's  charter,  is  the  king's  image, 
embossed  or  moulded  in  gold ;  and  though  such 
characters  be  expedited  of  course,  and  as  of  right, 
yet  they  are  varied  by  discretion,  according  to  the 
number  and  dignity  of  the  family.  This  charter 
the  herald  readeth  aloud  :  and  while  it  is  read, 
the  father  or  Tirsan  standeth  up,  supported  by 
two  of  his  sons,  such  as  he  choseth.  Then  the 
herald  mounteth  the  half  pace,  and  delivereth  the 
charter  into  his  hand  :  and  with  that  there  is  an 
acclamation  by  all  that  are  present  in  their  lan 
guage,  which  is  thus  much  :  "  Happy  are  the 
people  of  Bensalem."  Then  the  herald  taketh 
into  his  hand,  from  the  other  child,  the  cluster  of 
grapes,  which  is  of  gold  both  the  stalk  and  the 
grapes.  But  the  grapes  are  daintily  enamelled  ; 
and  if  the  males  of  the  family  be  the  greater  num 
ber,  the  grapes  are  enamelled  purple  with  a  little 
sun  set  on  the  top  ;  if  the  females,  then  they  are  en 
amelled  into  a  greenish  yellow,  with  a  crescent  on 
the  top.  The  grapes  are  in  number  as  many  as  there 
are  descendants  of  the  family.  This  golden  cluster 
the  herald  delivereth  also  to  the  Tirsan;  who 
presently  delivereth  it  over  to  that  son,  that  he 
had  formerly  chosen  to  be  in  the  house  with  him : 
who  beareth  it  before  his  father  as  an  ensign  of 
honour,  when  he  goeth  in  public,  ever  after;  and 
is  thereupon  called  the  Son  of  the  Vine.  After 
this  ceremony  ended,  the  father  or  Tirsan  retireth ; 
and  after  some  time  cometh  forth  again  to  dinner, 
where  he  sitteth  alone  under  the  state  as  before, 
and  none  of  his  descendants  sit  with  him,  of  what 
degree  or  dignity  soever,  except  he  hap  to  be  of 
Solomon's  House.  He  is  served  only  by  his 
own  children,  such  as  are  male  ;  who  perform 
unto  him  all  service  of  the  table  upon  the  knee  ; 
and  the  women  only  stand  about  him,  leaning 
against  the  wall.  The  room  below  the  half  pace, 
hath  tables  on  the  sides  for  the  guests  that  are 
bidden  ;  who  are  served  in  great  and  comely 
order ;  and  towards  the  end  of  dinner,  which,  in 
the  greatest  feast  with  them,  lasteth  never  above 
an  hour  and  a  half,  there  is  a  hymn  sung,  varied 
according  to  the  invention  of  him  that  composeth 
it,  for  they  have  excellent  poesy,  but  the  subject 
of  it  is  always  the  praises  of  Adam,  and  Noah,  and 


264 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


Abraham ;  whereof  the  former  two  peopled  the 
world,  and  the  last  was  the  father  of  the  faithful ; 
concluding  ever  with  a  thanksgiving  for  the  nati 
vity  of  our  Saviour,  in  whose  birth  the  births  of 
all  are  only  blessed.  Dinner  being  done,  the 
Tirsan  retireth  again :  and  having  withdrawn  him 
self  alone  into  a  place,  where  he  maketh  some 
private  prayers,  he  cometh  forth  the  third  time,  to 
give  the  blessing,  with  all  his  descendants,  who 
stand  about  him  as  at  the  first.  Then  he  calleth 
them  forth  by  one  and  by  one,  by  name,  as  he 
pleaseth,  though  seldom  the  order  of  age  be  in 
verted.  The  person  that  is  called,  the  table  being 
before  removed,  kneeleth  down  before  the  chair, 
and  the  father  layeth  his  hand  upon  his  head  or 
her  head,  and  giveth  the  blessing  in  these  words  : 
"  Son  of  Bensalem  or  daughter  of  Bensalem,  thy 
father  saith  it;  the  man  by  whom  thou  hast  breath 
and  life  speaketh  the  word ;  The  blessing  of  the 
everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace,  and  the 
Holy  Dove  be  upon  thee,  and  make  the  days  of 
thy  pilgrimage  good  and  many."  This  he  saith 
to  every  of  them  ;  and  that  done,  if  there  be  any 
of  his  sons  of  eminent  merit  and  virtue,  so  they  be 
not  ahove  two,  he  calleth  for  them  again ;  and  saith, 
laying  his  arm  over  their  shoulders,  they  standing ; 
"  Sons,  it  is  well  ye  are  born,  give  God  the  praise, 
and  persevere  to  the  end."  And  withal  he  deli- 
vereth  to  either  of  them  a  jewel  made  in  the  figure 
of  an  ear  of  wheat,  which  they  ever  after  wear 
in  the  front  of  their  turban  or  hat.  This  done, 
they  fall  to  music  and  dances,  and  other  recrea 
tions,  after  their  manner  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 
This  is  the  full  order  of  that  feast. 

By  that  time  six  or  seven  days  were  spent,  I 
was  fallen  into  strait  acquaintance  with  a  mer 
chant  of  that  city,  whose  name  was  Joabin.  He 
was  a  Jew,  and  circumcised  :  for  they  have  some 
few  stirps  of  Jews  yet  remaining  among  them, 
whom  they  leave  to  their  own  religion;  which 
they  may  the  better  do,  because  they  are  of  a  far 
differing  disposition  from  the  Jews  in  other  parts. 
For  whereas  they  hate  the  name  of  Christ,  and 
have  a  secret  inbred  rancour  against  the  people 
amongst  whom  they  live :  these,  contrariwise,  give 
unto  our  Saviour  many  high  attributes,  and  love 
the  nation  of  Bensalem  extremely.  Surely  this 
man  of  whom  I  speak,  would  ever  acknowledge 
that  Christ  was  born  of  a  virgin ;  and  that  he  was 
more  than  a  man:  and  he  would  tell  how  God 
made  him  ruler  of  the  seraphims  which  guard  his 
throne  ;  and  they  call  him  also  the  milken  way, 
and  the  Eliah  of  the  Messias ;  and  many  other 
high  names  ;  which  though  they  be  inferior  to  his 
divine  Majesty,  yet  they  are  far  from  the  language 
of  other  Jews.  And  for  the  country  of  Bensalem, 
this  man  would  make  no  end  of  commending  it : 
being  desirous  by  tradition  among  the  Jews  there, 
to  have  it  believed,  that  the  people  thereof  were 
of  the  generations  of  Abraham,  by  another  son, 
whom  they  call  Nachoran ;  and  that  Moses,  by  a 


secret  cabala,  ordained  the  laws  of  Bensalem 
which  they  now  use ;  and  that  when  the  Messias 
should  come  and  sit  in  his  throne  at  Hierusalem, 
the  King  of  Bensalem  should  sit  at  his  feet, 
whereas  other  kings  should  keep  a  great  distance. 
But  yet  setting  aside  these  Jewish  dreams,  the 
man  was  a  wise  man,  and  learned,  and  of  great 
policy,  and  excellently  seen  in  the  laws  and  cus 
toms  of  that  nation.  Amongst  other  discourses, 
one  day  I  told  him  I  was  much  affected  with  the 
relation  I  had  from  some  of  the  company,  of  their 
custom  in  holding  the  feast  of  the  family ;  for  that, 
methought  I  had  never  heard  of  a  solemnity 
wherein  nature  did  so  much  preside.  And  be 
cause  propagation  of  families  proceedeth  from  the 
nuptial  copulation,  I  desired  to  know  of  him,  what 
laws  and  customs  they  had  concerning  marriage ; 
and  whether  they  kept  marriage  well;  and 
whether  they  were  tied  to  one  wife  ]  For  that 
where  population  is  so  much  affected,  and  such  as 
with  them  it  seemed  to  be,  there  is  commonly 
permission  of  plurality  of  wives.  To  this  he  said, 
"  You  have  reason  for  to  commend  that  excellent 
institution  of  the  feast  of  the  family ;  and  indeed 
we  have  experience,  that  those  families  that  are 
partakers  of  the  blessing  of  that  feast,  do  flourish 
and  prosper  ever  after  in  an  extraordinary  manner. 
But  hear  me  now,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  I 
know.  You  shall  understand  that  there  is  not 
under  the  heavens  so  chaste  a  nation  as  this  of 
Bensalem  ;  nor  so  free  from  all  pollution  or  foul 
ness.  It  is  the  virgin  of  the  world.  I  remernbei 
I  have  read,  in  one  of  your  European  books,  of  a 
holy  hermit  among  you,  that  desired  to  see  the 
spirit  of  fornication ;  and  there  appeared  to  him 
a  little  foul  ugly  ^Ethiop  :  but  if  he  had  desired  to 
see  the  spirit  of  chastity  of  Bensalem,  it  would 
have  appeared  to  him  in  the  likeness  of  a  fair 
beautiful  cherubim.  For  there  is  nothing  amongst 
mortal  men  more  fair  and  admirable,  than  the 
chaste  minds  of  this  people.  Know,  therefore,  that 
with  them  there  are  no  stews,  no  dissolute  houses, 
no  courtesans,  nor  any  thing  of  that  kind»  Nay, 
they  wonder  with  detestation  at  you  in  Europe, 
which  permit  such  things.  They  say,  ye  have 
put  marriage  out  of  office  :  for  marriage  is  ordained 
a  remedy  for  unlawful  concupiscence ;  and  natural 
concupiscence  seemeth  but  a  spur  to  marriage. 
But  when  men  have  at  hand  a  remedy  more  agree 
able  to  their  corrupt  will,  marriage  is  almost  ex- 
pulsed.  And  therefore  there  are  with  you  seen 
infinite  men  that  marry  not,  but  choose  rather  a 
libertine  and  impure  single  life,  than  to  be  yoked 
in  marriage;  and  many  that  do  marry,  marry 
late,  when  the  prime  and  strength  of  their  years  is 
past.  And  when  they  do  marry,  what  is  marriage 
to  them  but  a  very  bargain ;  wherein  is  sought  al 
liance,  or  portion,  or  reputation,  with  some  desire, 
almost  indifferent,  of  issue ;  and  not  the  faithful 
nuptial  union  of  man  and  wife,  that  was  first  in 
stituted.  Neither  is  it  possible,  that  those  that 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


265 


have  cast  away  so  basely  so  much  of  their  strength 
should  greatly  esteem  children,  being  of  the  same 
matter,  as  chaste  men  do.  So  likewise  during 
marriage,  is  the  case  much  amended,  as  it  ought 
to  be  if  those  things  were  tolerated  only  for  neces 
sity?  No,  but  they  remain  still  as  a  very  affront 
to  marriage.  The  haunting  of  those  dissolute 
places,  or  resort  to  courtesans,  are  no  more  pu 
nished  in  married  men  than  in  bachelors.  And 
the  depraved  custom  of  change,  and  the  delight  in 
meretricious  embracements,  where  sin  is  turned 
into  art,  maketh  marriage  a  dull  thing,  and  a  kind 
of  imposition  or  tax.  They  hear  you  defend  these 
things,  as  done  to  avoid  greater  evils ;  as  advou- 
tries,  deflouring  of  virgins,  unnatural  lust,  and  the 
like.  Bat  they  say  this  is  a  preposterous  wisdom  ; 
and  they  call  it  Lot's  offer,  who  to  save  his  guests 
from  abusing,  offered  his  daughters  :  nay,  they  say 
farther,  that  there  is  little  gained  in  this ;  for  that 
the  same  vices  and  appetites  do  still  remain  and 
abound ;  unlawful  lust  being  like  a  furnace,  that 
if  you  stop  the  flames  altogether,  it  will  quench ; 
but  if  you  give  it  any  vent,  it  will  rage.  As  for 
masculine  love,  they  have  no  touch  of  it ;  and  yet 
there  are  not  so  faithful  and  inviolate  friendships 
in  the  world  again  as  are  there;  and  to  speak 
generally,  as  I  said  before,  I  have  not  read  of  any 
such  chastity  in  any  people  as  theirs.  And  their 
usual  saying  is,  That  whosoever  is  unchaste  can 
not  reverence  himself:  and  they  say,  That  the 
reverence  of  a  man's  self  is,  next  religion,  the 
chiefest  bridle  of  all  vices."  And  when  he  had 
said  this,  the  good  Jew  paused  a  little ;  where 
upon  I,  far  more  willing  to  hear  him  speak  on  than 
to  speak  myself;  yet  thinking  it  decent,  that  upon 
his  pause  of  speech  I  should  not  be  altogether 
silent,  said  only  this;  "that  I  would  say  to  him, 
as  the  woman  of  Sarepta  said  to  Elias ;  that  he 
was  come  to  bring  to  memory  our  sins ;  and  that 
I  confess  the  righteousness  of  Bensalem  was 
greater  than  the  righteousness  of  Europe."  At 
which  speech  he  bowed  his  head,  and  went  on  in 
this  manner:  "They  have  also  many  wise  and 
excellent  laws  touching  marriage.  They  allow 
no  polygamy ;  they  have  ordained  that  none  do 
intermarry,  or  contract  until  a  month  be  passed 
from  their  first  interview.  Marriage  without 
consent  of  parents  they  do  not  make  void,  but  they 
mulct  it  in  the  inheritors  :  for  the  children  of  such 
marriages  are  not  admitted  to  inherit  above  a  third 
part  of  their  parents'  inheritance.  I  have  read  in 
a  book  of  one  of  your  men,  of  a  feigned  common 
wealth,  where  the  married  couple  are  permitted 
before  they  contract,  to  see  one  another  naked. 
This  they  dislike;  for  they  think  it  a  scorn  to 
give  a  refusal  after  so  familiar  knowledge :  but 
because  of  many  hidden  defects  in  men  and  wo 
men's  bodies,  they  have  a  more  civil  way :  for 
they  have  near  every  town  a  couple  of  pools,  which 
they  call  Adam  and  Eve's  pools,  where  it  is  permit 
ted  to  one  of  the  friends  of  the  man,  and  another 
VOL.  I.— 34 


of  the  friends  of  the  woman,  to  see  them  severally 
bathe  naked." 

And  as  we  were  thus  in  conference,  there  came 
one  that  seemed  to  be  a  messenger,  in  a  rich  huke, 
that  spake  with  the  Jew :  whereupon  he  turned 
to  me  and  said  ;  "  You  will  pardon  me,  for  I  am 
commanded  away  in  haste."  The  next  morning 
he  came  to  me  again  joyful,  as  it  seemed,  and 
said,  "  There  is  word  come  to  the  governor  of  the 
city,  that  one  of  the  fathers  of  Solomon's  House 
will  be  here  this  day  seven-night :  we  have  seen 
none  of  them  this  dozen  years.  His  coming  is  in 
state  :  but  the  cause  of  his  coming  is  secret.  I 
will  provide  you  and  your  fellows  of  a  good 
standing  to  see  his  entry."  I  thanked  him,  and 
told  him,  I  was  most  glad  of  the  news.  The  day 
being  come  he  made  his  entry.  He  was  a  man 
of  middle  stature  and  age,  comely  of  person,  and 
had  an  aspect  as  if  he  pitied  men.  He  was 
clothed  in  a  robe  of  fine  black  cloth,  with  wide 
sleeves  and  a  cape.  His  under  garment  was  of 
excellent  white  linen  down  to  the  foot,  girt  with 
a  girdle  of  the  same ;  and  a  sindon  or  tippet  of 
the  same  about  his  neck.  He  had  gloves  that 
were  curious,  and  set  with  stone  ;  and  shoes  of 
peach-coloured  velvet.  His  neck  was  bare  to  the 
shoulders.  His  hat  was  like  a  helmet  or  Spanish 
Montera ;  and  his  locks  curled  below  it  decently ; 
they  were  of  colour  brown.  His  beard  was  cut 
round,  and  of  the  same  colour  with  his  hair,  some 
what  lighter  He  was  carried  in  a  rich  chariot 
without  wheels,  litter-wise,  with  two  horses  at 
either  end,  richly  trapped  in  blue  velvet  embroid 
ered  ;  and  two  footmen  on  each  side  in  the  like 
attire.  The  chariot  was  all  of  cedar,  gilt,  and 
adorned  with  crystal ;  save  that  the  fore-end  had 
pannels  of  sapphires,  set  in  borders  of  gold,  and 
the  hinder-end  the  like  of  emeralds  of  Peru  colour. 
There  was  also  a  sun  of  gold,  radiant  upon  the 
top,  in  the  midst ;  and  on  the  top  before  a  small 
cherub  of  gold,  with  wings  displayed.  The  cha 
riot  was  covered  with  cloth  of  gold  tissued  upon 
blue.  He  had  before  him  fifty  attendants,  young 
men  all,  in  white  satin  loose  coats  to  the  mid-leg, 
and  stockings  of  white  silk;  and  shoes  of  blue 
velvet;  and  hats  of  blue  velvet;  with  fine  plumes 
of  divers  colours,  set  round  like  hat-bands.  Next 
before  the  chariot  went  two  men  bare  headed,  in 
linen  garments  down  to  the  foot,  girt,  and  shoes 
of  blue  velvet,  who  carried  the  one  a  crosier,  the 
other  a  pastoral  staff,  like  a  sheep  hook  ;  neither 
of  them  of  metal,  but  the  crosier  of  balm- wood,  the 
pastoral  staff  of  cedar.  Horsemen  he  had  none, 
neither  before  nor  behind  his  chariot :  as  it  seem- 
eth,  to  avoid  all  tumult  and  trouble.  Behind  his 
chariot  went  all  the  officers  and  principals  of  the 
companies  of  the  city.  He  sat  alone,  upon  cush 
ions  of  a  kind  of  excellent  plush,  blue ;  and  under 
his  foot  curious  carpets  of  silk  of  divers  colours, 
like  the  Persian,  but  far  finer.  He  held  up  his 
bare  hand  as  he  went,  as  blessing  the  people  but 
Z 


266 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


in  silence.  The  street  was  wonderfully  well 
kept :  so  that  there  was  never  any  army  had  their 
men  stand  in  better  battle-array,  than  the  people 
stood.  The  windows  likewise  were  not  crowded, 
but  every  one  stood  in  them  as  if  they  had  been 
placed.  When  the  show  was  past,  the  Jew  said 
to  me,  "  I  shall  not  be  able  to  attend  you  as  I 
would,  in  regard  of  some  charge  the  city  hath  laid 
upon  me,  for  the  entertaining  of  this  great  person." 
Three  days  after  the  Jew  came  to  me  again,  and 
said  ;  "  Ye  are  happy  men ;  for  the  father  of  So 
lomon's  House  taketh  knowledge  of  your  being 
here,  and  commanded  me  to  tell  you,  that  he  will 
admit  all  your  company  to  his  presence,  and  have 
private  conference  with  one  of  you  that  ye  shall 
choose;  and  for  this  hath  appointed  the  next  day 
after  to-morrow.  And  because  he  meaneth  to 
give  you  his  blessing,  he  hath  appointed  it  in  the 
forenoon."  W"e  came  at  our  day  and  hour,  and  I 
was  chosen  by  my  fellows  for  the  private  access. 
We  found  him  in  a  fair  chamber,  richly  hanged, 
and  carpeted  under  foot,  without  any  degrees 
to  the  state ;  he  was  set  upon  a  low  throne 
richly  adorned,  and  a  rich  cloth  of  state  over 
his  head,  of  blue  satin  embroidered.  He  was 
alone,  save  that  he  had  two  pages  of  honour, 
on  either  hand  one,  finely  attired  in  white.  His 
under-garments  were  the  like  that  we  saw  him 
wear  in  the  chariot;  but  instead  of  his  gown,  he 
had  on  him  a  mantle  with  a  cape,  of  the  same  fine 
black,  fastened  about  him.  When  we  came  in, 
as  we  were  taught,  we  bowed  low  at  our  first  en 
trance  ;  and  when  we  were  come  near  his  chair, 
he  stood  up,  holding  forth  his  hand  ungloved, 
and  in  posture  of  blessing ;  and  we  every  one  of 
us  stooped  down,  and  kissed  the  hem  of  his  tip 
pet.  That  done,  the  rest  departed,  and  I  remained. 
Then  he  warned  the  pages  forth  of  the  room,  and 
caused  me  to  sit  down  beside  him,  and  spake  to 
me  thus  in  the  Spanish  tongue  : 

"  God  bless  thee,  my  son ;  I  will  give  thee 
the  greatest  jewel  I  have.  For  I  will  impart 
unto  thee,  for  the  love  of  God  and  men,  a  rela 
tion  of  the  true  state  of  Solomon's  House.  Son, 
to  make  you  know  the  true  state  of  Solomon's 
House,  I  will  keep  this  order.  First,  I  will  set 
forth  unto  you  the  end  of  our  foundation.  Se 
condly,  the  preparations  and  instruments  we  have 
for  our  works.  Thirdly,  the  several  employ 
ments  and  functions  whereto  our  fellows  are  as 
signed.  And,  fourthly,  the  ordinances  and  rites 
which  we  observe. 

"  The  end  of  our  foundation  is  the  knowledge 
of  causes,  and  secret  motions  of  things  ;  and  the 
enlarging  of  the  bounds  of  human  empire,  to 
the  eifecting  of  all  things  possible. 

"The  preparations  and  instruments  are  these. 
We  have  large  and  deep  caves  of  several  depths ; 


the  deepest  are  sunk  six  hundred  fathom  ;  and 
some  of  them  are  digged  and  made  under  great 
hills  and  mountains :  so  that  if  you  reckon  to 
gether  the  depth  of  the  hill,  and  the  depth  of  the 
cave,  they  are,  some  of  them,  above  three  miles 
deep.  For  we  find  that  the  depth  of  a  hill,  and 
the  depth  of  a  cave  from  the  flat  is  the  same  thing ; 
both  remote  alike  from  the  sun  and  heaven's 
beams,  and  from  the  open  air.  These  caves  we  call 
the  lower  region.  And  we  use  them  for  all  co 
agulations,  indurations,  refrigerations,  and  con 
servations  of  bodies.  We  use  them  likewise  for 
the  imitation  of  natural  mines  :  and  the  pro 
ducing  also  of  new  artificial  metals,  by  compo 
sitions  and  materials  which  we  use  and  lay  there 
for  many  years.  We  use  them  also  sometimes, 
which  may  seem  strange,  for  curing  of  some 
diseases,  and  for  prolongation  of  life,  in  some 
hermits  that  choose  to  live  there,  well  accom 
modated  of  all  things  necessary,  and  indeed  live 
very  long  ;  by  \vhom  also  we  learn  many  things. 

"  We  have  burials  in  several  earths,  where  we 
put  divers  cements,  as  the  Chinese  do  their  porce 
lain.  But  we  have  them  in  greater  variety,  and 
some  of  them  more  fine.  We  have  also  great  va 
riety  of  composts,  and  soils,  for  the  making  of  the 
earth  fruitful. 

"  We  have  high  towers,  the  highest  about  half  a 
mile  in  height;  and  some  of  them  likewise  set 
upon  high  mountains ;  so  that  the  vantage  of  the 
hill  with  the  tower,  is  in  the  highest  of  them  three 
miles  at  least.  And  these  places  we  call  the  upper 
region  :  accounting  the  air  between  the  high  places 
and  the  low,  as  a  middle  region.  We  use  these 
towers  according  to  their  several  heights  and  situa 
tions,  for  insolation,  refrigeration,  conservation, 
and  for  the  view  of  divers  meteors;  as  winds,  rain, 
snow,  hail,  and  some  of  the  fiery  meteors  also. 
And  upon  them,  in  some  places,  are  dwellings  of 
hermits,  whom  we  visit  sometimes,  and  instruct 
what  to  observe. 

"We  have  great  lakes  both  salt  and  fresh,  whereof 
we  have  use  for  the  fish  and  fowl.  We  use  them 
also  for  burials  of  some  natural  bodies ;  for  we 
find  a  difference  in  things  buried  in  earth,  or  in  air, 
below  the  earth ;  and  things  buried  in  water.  We 
have  also  pools,  of  which  some  do  strain  fresh 
water  out  of  salt ;  and  others  by  art  do  turn  fresh 
water  into  salt.  We  have  also  some  rocks  in  the 
midst  of  the  sea :  and  some  bays  upon  the  shore 
for  some  works,  wherein  is  required  the  air  and  va 
pour  of  the  sea.  We  have  likewise  violent  streams 
and  cataracts,  which  serve  us  for  many  motions: 
and  likewise  engines  for  multiplying  and  enforc 
ing  of  winds,  to  set  also  on  going  divers  motions. 

"  We  have  also  a  number  of  artificial  wells  and 
fountains,  made  in  imitation  of  the  natural  sources 
and  baths :  as  tincted  upon  vitriol,  sulphur,  steel, 
brass,  lead,  nitre,  and  other  minerals.  And 
again,  we  have  little  wells  for  infusions  of  many 
things,  where  the  waters  take  the  virtue  quicker 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


267 


and  better,  than  in  vessels  or  basins.  And 
amongst  them  we  have  a  water,  which  we  call 
water  of  paradise,  being,  by  that  we  do  to  it, 
made  very  sovereign  for  health  and  prolongation 
of  life. 

"  We  have  also  great  and  spacious  houses, 
where  we  imitate  and  demonstrate  meteors;  at: 
snow,  hail,  rain,  some  artificial  rains  of  b< 
and  not  of  water,  thunders,  lightnings  : 
generations  of  bodies  in  air ;  as  frogs,  flies,  and 
diverse  others. 

"  We  have  also  certain  chambers,  which  we  call 
chambers  of  health,  where  we  qualify  the  air  as 
we  think  good  and  proper  for  the  cure  of  divers 
diseases,  and  preservation  of  health. 

"  We  have  also  fair  and  large  baths,  of  several 
mixtures,  for  the  cure  of  diseases,  and  the  restoring 
of  man's  body  from  arefaction :  and  others,  for 
the  confirming  of  it  in  strength  of  sinews,  vital 
parts,  and  the  very  juice  and  substance  of  the 
body. 

"  We  have  also  large  and  various  orchards  and 
gardens,  wherein  we  do  not  so  much  respect 
beauty,  as  variety  of  ground  and  soil,  proper  for 
divers  trees  and  herbs  :  and  some  very  spacious, 
where  trees  and  berries  are  set,  whereof  we  make 
divers  kinds  of  drinks,  besides  the  vineyards.  In 
these  we  practise  likewise  all  conclusions  of 
grafting  and  inoculating,  as  well  of  wild  trees  as 
fruit  trees,  which  produceth  many  effects.  And 
we  make  by  art,  in  the  same  orchards  and  gar 
dens,  trees  and  flowers  to  come  earlier  or  later 
than  their  seasons ;  and  to  come  up  and  bear 
more  speedily  than  by  their  natural  course  they 
do.  We  make  them  also  by  art  greater  much 
than  their  nature;  and  their  fruit  greater,  and 
sweeter,  and  of  differing  taste,  smell,  colour, 
and  figure,  from  their  nature.  And  many  of 
them  we  so  order,  as  they  become  of  medicinal 
use. 

"  We  have  also  means  to  make  divers  plants  rise 
by  mixtures  of  earths  without  seeds  ;  and  likewise 
to  make  divers  new  plants,  differing  from  the 
vulgar ;  and  to  make  one  tree  or  plant  turn  into 
another. 

"We  have  also  parks  and  enclosures  of  all  sorts 
of  beasts  and  birds,  which  we  use  not  only  for 
view  or  rareness,  but  likewise  for  dissections  and 
trials  ;  that  thereby  we  may  take  light  what  may 
be  wrought  upon  the  body  of  man.  WTherein  we 
find  many  strange  effects ;  as  continuing  life  in 
them,  though  divers  parts,  which  you  account 
vital,  be  perished,  and  taken  forth ;  resuscitating 
of  some  that  seem  dead  in  appearance  ;  and  the 
like.  We  try  also  all  poisons  and  other  medicines 
upon  them,  as  well  of  chirurgery  as  physic.  By 
art  likewise,  we  make  them  greater  or  taller  than 
their  kind  is ;  and  contrariwise  dwarf  them,  and 
stay  their  growth  :  we  make  them  more  fruitful 
and  bearing  than  their  kind  is  ;  and  contrariwise 
barren,  and  not  generative.  Also  we  make  them 


differ  in  colour,  shape,  activity,  many  ways.  We 
find  means  to  make  commixtures  and  copu 
lations  of  different  kinds,  which  have  produced 
many  new  kinds,  and  them  not  barren,  as  the 
general  opinion  is.  We  make  a  number  of  kinds 
of  serpents,  worms,  flies,  fishes,  of  putrefaction; 
whereof  some  are  advanced  in  effect  to  be  perfect 
creatures,  like  beasts,  or  birds ;  and  have  sexes 
and  do  propagate.  Neither  do  we  this  by  chance, 
but  we  know  beforehand,  of  what  matter  and 
commixture,  what  kind  of  those  creatures  will 
arise. 

"  We  have  also  particular  pools,  where  we  make 
trials  upon  fishes,  as  we  have  said  before  of  beasts 
and  birds. 

"  We  have  also  places  for  breed  and  generation 
of  those  kinds  of  worms,  and  flies,  which  are  of 
special  use :  such  as  are  with  you  your  silk-worms 
and  bees. 

"  I  will  not  hold  you  long  with  recounting  of  our 
brew-houses,  bake-houses,  and  kitchens,  where 
are  made  divers  drinks,  breads,  and  meats,  rare, 
and  of  special  effects.  Wines  we  have  of  grapes ; 
and  drinks  of  other  juice,  of  fruits,  of  grains,  and 
of  roots :  and  of  mixtures  with  honey,  sugar,  ma- 
na,  and  fruits  dried  and  decocted.  Also  of  the 
tears  or  woundings  of  trees,  and  of  the  pulp  of 
canes.  And  these  drinks  are  of  several  ages, 
some  to  the  age  or  last  of  forty  years.  We  have 
drinks  also  brewed  with  several  herbs,  and  roots, 
and  spices ;  yea,  with  several  fleshes,  and  white 
meats ;  whereof  some  of  the  drinks  are  such  as 
they  are  in  effect  meat  and  drink  both :  so  that 
divers,  especially  in  age,  do  desire  to  live  with 
them,  with  little  or  no  meat,  or  bread.  And  above 
all,  we  strive  to  have  drinks  of  extreme  thin  parts, 
to  insinuate  into  the  body,  and  yet  without  all 
biting,  sharpness,  or  fretting ;  insomuch  as  some 
of  them,  put  upon  the  back  of  your  hand,  will, 
with  a  little  stay,  pass  through  to  the  palm,  and 
yet  taste  mild  to  the  mouth.  We  have  also  waters 
which  we  ripen  in  that  fashion  as  they  become 
nourishing  ;  so  that  they  are  indeed  excellent 
drink ;  and  many  will  use  no  other.  Breads  we 
have  of  several  grains,  roots,  and  kernels  :  yea, 
and  some  of  flesh  and  fish,  dried  ;  with  divers  kinds 
of  leavenings  and  seasonings :  so  that  some  do  ex 
tremely  move  appetites  ;  some  do  nourish  so,  as  di 
vers  do  live  on  them,  without  any  other  meat ;  who 
live  very  long.  So  for  meats,  we  have  some  of 
them  so  beaten,  and  made  tender,  and  mortified,  yet 
without  all  corrupting,  as  a  weak  heat  of  the  sto 
mach  will  turn  them  into  good  chylus,  as  well  as  a 
strong  heat  would  meat  otherwise  prepared.  We 
have  some  meats  also,  and  breads  and  drinks, 
which  taken  by  men  enable  them  to  fast  long 
after  :  and  some  other,  that  used  to  make  the  very 
flesh  of  mens'  bodies  sensibly  more  hard  and 
tough,  and  their  strength  far  greater  than  other 
wise  it  would  be. 

'« We  have  dispensatories,  or  shops  of  medi 


268 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


cines ;  wherein  you  may  easily  think,  if  we  have 
such  variety  of  plants  and  living  creatures  more 
than  you  have  in  Europe,  (for  we  know  what  you 
have,)  the  simples,  drugs,  and  ingredients  of  me 
dicines,  must  likewise  be  in  so  much  the  greater 
variety.  We  have  them  likewise  of  divers  ages, 
and  long  fermentations.  And  for  their  prepara 
tions,  we  have  not  only  all  manner  of  exquisite 
distillations  and  separations,  and  especially  by 
gentle  heats  and  percolations  through  divers 
strainers,  yea,  and  substances;  but  also  exact 
forms  of  composition,  whereby  they  incorporate 
almost  as  they  were  natural  simples. 

"  We  have  also  divers  mechanical  arts,  which 
you  have  not ;  and  stuffs  made  by  them  ;  as  pa 
pers,  linen,  silks,  tissues :  dainty  works  of  feath 
ers  of  wonderful  lustre ;  excellent  dyes,  and  many 
others ;  and  shops  likewise  as  well  for  such  as 
are  not  brought  into  vulgar  use  among  us,  as  for 
those  that  are.  For  you  must  know,  that  of  the 
things  before  recited,  many  of  them  are  grown 
into  use  throughout  the  kingdom  ;  but  yet,  if  they 
did  flow  from  our  invention,  we  have  of  them  also 
for  patterns  and  principals. 

"  We  have  also  furnaces  of  great  diversities, 
and  that  keep  great  diversities  of  heats ;  fierce 
and  quick  ;  strong  and  constant  ;  soft  and  mild  ; 
blown,  quiet,  dry,  moist ;  and  the  like.  But 
above  all,  we  have  heats  in  imitation  of  the  sun's 
and  heavenly  bodies'  heats,  that  pass  divers  ine 
qualities,  and,  as  it  were,  orbs,  progresses  and  re 
turns,  whereby,  we  produce  admirable  effects. 
Besides,  we  have  heats  of  dungs,  and  of  bellies 
and  maws  of  living  creatures,  and  of  their  bloods 
and  bodies  ;  and  of  hays  and  herbs  laid  up  moist; 
of  lime  unquenched;  and  such  like.  Instruments 
also  which  generate  heat  only  by  motion.  And 
farther,  places  for  strong  insolations  ;  and  again, 
places  under  the  earth,  which  by  nature  or  art, 
yield  heat.  These  divers  heats  we  use,  as  the 
nature  of  the  operation  which  we  intend  requir- 
eth. 

"  We  have  also  perspective  houses,  where  we 
make  demonstrations  of  lights  and  radiations ;  and 
of  all  colours  ;  and  out  of  things  uncoloured  and 
transparent,  we  can  represent  unto  you  all  several 
colours;  not  in  rainbows  as  it  is  in  gems  and 
prisms,  but  of  themselves  single.  We  represent 
also  all  multiplications  of  light,  which  we  carry 
to  great  distance ;  and  make  so  sharp,  as  to  dis 
cern  small  points  and  lines  ;  also  all  colorations 
of  light  :  all  delusions  and  deceits  of  the  sight, 
in  figures,  magnitudes,  motions,  colours  ;  all  de 
monstrations  of  shadows.  We  find  also  divers 
means  yet  unknown  to  you,  of  producing  of  light 
originally  from  divers  bodies.  We  procure  means 
of  seeing  objects  afar  off;  as  in  the  heaven  and 
remote  places ;  and  represent  things  near  as  far 
off;  and  things  afar  off  as  near;  making  feigned 
distances.  We  have  also  helps  for  the  sight,  far 
above  spectacles  and  glasses  in  use.  We  have 


also  glasses  and  means,  to  see  small  and  minute 
bodies  perfectly  and  distinctly  ;  as  the  shapes  and 
colours  of  small  flies  and  worms,  grains  and 
flaws  in  gems,  which  cannot  otherwise  be  seen  ; 
observations  in  urine  and  blood,  not  otherwise 
to  be  seen.  We  make  artificial  rainbows,  halos, 
and  circles  about  light.  W'e  represent  also  all 
manner  of  reflections,  refractions,  and  multiplica 
tions  of  visual  beams  of  objects. 

"We  have  also  precious  stones  of  all  kinds, 
many  of  them  of  great  beauty,  to  you  unknown ; 
crystals  likewise;  and  glasses  of  divers  kinds; 
and  amongst  them  some  of  metals  vitrificated,  and 
other  materials,  besides  those  of  which  you  make 
glass.  Also  a  number  of  fossils,  and  imperfect 
minerals,  which  you  have  not.  Likewise  load 
stones  of  prodigious  virtue ;  and  other  rare  stones, 
both  natural  and  artificial. 

"  We  have  also  sound-houses,  where  we  prac 
tise  and  demonstrate  all  sounds,  and  their  gene 
ration.  We  have  harmonies  which  you  have  not 
of  quarter-s'ounds,  and  lesser  slides  of  sounds. 
Divers  instruments  of  music  likewise  to  you 
unknown,  some  sweeter  than  any  you  have  ;  to 
gether  with  bells  and  rings  that  are  dainty  and 
sweet.  We  represent  small  sounds  as  great  and 
deep  ;  likewise  great  sounds  extenuate  and  sharp  ; 
we  make  divers  tremblings  and  warblings  of 
sounds,  which  in  their  original  are  entire.  We 
represent  and  imitate  all  articulate  sounds  and 
letters,  and  the  voice  and  notes  of  beasts  and 
birds.  We  have  certain  helps,  which  set  to  the 
ear  do  further  the  hearing  greatly.  We  have 
also  divers  strange  and  artificial  echoes,  reflect 
ing  the  voice  many  times,  and  as  it  were  tossing  it : 
and  some  that  give  back  the  voice  louder  than  it 
came;  some  shriller,  and  some  deeper;  yea, 
some  rendering  the  voice  differing  in  the  letters 
or  articulate  sound  from  that  they  receive.  We 
have  also  means  to  convey  sounds  in  trunks  and 
pipes,  in  strange  lines  and  distances. 

"  We  have  also  perfume-houses ;  wherewith  we 
join  also  practices  of  taste.  We  multiply  smells, 
which  may  seem  strange.  We  imitate  smells, 
making  all  smells  to  breathe  out  of  other  mixtures 
than  those  that  give  them.  WTe  make  divers  imi 
tations  of  taste  likewise,  so  that  they  will  deceive 
any  man's  taste.  And  in  this  house  we  contain 
also  a  comfiture-house ;  where  we  make  all  sweet 
meats,  dry  and  moist,  and  divers  pleasant  wines, 
milks,  broths,  and  salads,  in  far  greater  variety 
than  you  have. 

"  We  have  also  engine-houses,  where  are  pre 
pared  engines  and  instruments  for  all  sorts  of  mo 
tions.  There  we  imitate  and  practise  to  make 
swifter  motions  than  any  you  have,  either  out  of 
your  muskets,  or  any  engine  that  you  have ;  and 
to  make  them,  and  multiply  them  more  easily, 
and  with  small  force,  by  wheels  and  other  means : 
and  to  make  them  stronger,  and  more  violent  than 
yours  are  ;  exceeding  your  greatest  cannons  and 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


269 


basilisks.  We  represent  also  ordnance  and  in 
struments  of  war,  and  engines  of  all  kinds  :  and 
likewise  new  mixtures  and  compositions  of  gun 
powder,  wildfires  burning  in  water,  and  unquench 
able.  Also  fireworks  of  all  variety  both  for  plea 
sure  and  use.  We  imitate  also  flight  of  birds ; 
we  have  some  degrees  of  flying  in  the  air  ; 
we  have  ships  and  boats  for  going  under  water, 
and  brooking  of  seas ;  also  swimming-girdles  and 
supporters.  We  have  divers  curious  clocks,  and 
other  like  motions  of  return,  and  some  perpetual 
motions.  We  imitate  also  motions  of  living  crea 
tures  by  images  of  men,  beasts,  birds,  fishes,  and 
serpents ;  we  have  also  a  great  number  of  other 
various  motions,  strange  for  equality,  fineness, 
and  subtilty. 

"We  have  also  a  mathematical  house,  where 
are  represented  all  instruments,  as  well  of  geome 
try  as  astronomy,  exquisitely  made. 

"  We  have  also  houses  of  deceits  of  the  senses ; 
where  we  represent  all  manner  of  feats  of  jug 
gling,  false  apparitions,  impostures,  and  illusions; 
and  their  fallacies.  And  surely  you  will  easily 
believe  that  we  that  have  so  many  things  truly 
natural,  which  induce  admiration,  could  in  a 
world  of  particulars  deceive  the  senses  if  we 
would  disguise  those  things,  and  labour  to  make 
them  seem  more  miraculous.  But  we  do  hate 
all  impostures  and  lies :  insomuch  as  we  have 
severally  forbidden  it  to  all  our  fellows,  under 
pain  of  ignominy  and  fines,  that  they  do  not 
show  any  natural  work  or  thing,  adorned  or 
swelling ;  but  only  pure  as  it  is,  and  without 
all  affectation  of  strangeness. 

"These  are,  my  son,  the  riches  of  Solomon's 
House. 

"For  the  several  employments  and  offices  of 
our  fellows;  we  have  twelve  that  sail  into  fo 
reign  countries,  under  the  names  of  other  na 
tions,  for  our  own  we  conceal,  who  bring  us  the 
books,  and  obstructs,  and  patterns  of  experi 
ments  of  all  other  parts.  These  we  call  mer 
chants  of  light. 

"We  have  three  that  collect  the  experiments 
which  are  in  all  books.  These  we  call  depre 
dators. 

"  We  have  three  that  collect  the  experiments  of 
all  mechanical  arts ;  and  also  of  liberal  sciences ; 
and  also  of  practices  which  are  not  brought  into 
arts.  These  we  call  mystery-men. 

"  We  have  three  that  try  new  experiments, 
such  as  themselves  think  good.  These  we  call 
pioneers  or  miners. 

"We  have  three  that  draw  the  experiments  of 
the  former  four  into  titles,  and  tablets,  to  give 
the  better  light  for  the  drawing  of  observations 
and  axioms  out  of  them.  These  we  call  com 
pilers. 

"We  have  three  that  bend  themselves,  looking 
into  the  experiments  of  their  fellows,  and  cast 


about  how  to  draw  out  of  them  things  of  use  and 
practice  for  man's  life  and  knowledge,  as  well  for 
works  as  for  plain  demonstration  of  causes,  means, 
natural  divinations,  and  the  easy  and  clear  disco 
very  of  the  virtues  and  parts  of  bodies.  These 
we  call  dowry-men  or  benefactors. 

"  Then  after  divers  meetings  and  consults  of  our 
whole  number,  to  consider  of  the  former  labours 
and  collections,  wre  have  three  that  take  care,  out 
of  them,  to  direct  new  experiments,  of  a  higher 
light,  more  penetrating  into  nature  than  the  for 
mer.  These  we  call  lamps. 

"We  have  three  others  that  do  execute  the  ex 
periments  so  directed,  and  report  them.  These 
we  call  inoculators. 

"  Lastly,  we  have  three  that  raise  the  former 
discoveries  by  experiments  into  greater  observa 
tions,  axioms,  and  aphorisms.  These  we  call 
interpreters  of  nature. 

"We  have  also,  as  you  must  think,  novices  and 
apprentices,  that  the  succession  of  the  former  em 
ployed  men  do  not  fail :  besides  a  great  number  of 
servants,  and  attendants,  men  and  women.  And 
this  we  do  also :  we  have  consultation,  which  of 
the  inventions  and  experiences  which  we  have  dis 
covered  shall  be  published,  and  which  not:  and 
take  all  an  oath  of  secrecy,  for  the  concealing  of 
those  which  we  think  fit  to  keep  .a  secret :  though 
some  of  those  we  do  reveal  sometimes  to  the  state, 
and  some  not. 

"  For  our  ordinances  and  rites :  we  have  two 
ver}"  long  and  fair  galleries:  in  one  of  these  we 
place  patterns  and  samples  of  all  manner  of  the 
more  rare  and  excellent  inventions :  in  the  other 
we  place  the  statues  of  all  principal  inventors. 
There  we  have  the  statue  of  your  Columbus,  that 
discovered  the  West  Indies  :  also  the  inventor 
of  ships :  your  monk  that  was  the  inventor  of 
ordnance,  and  of  gunpowder :  the  inventor  of 
music :  the  inventor  of  letters :  the  inventor  of 
printing :  the  inventor  of  observations  of  astrono 
my  :  the  inventor  of  works  in  metal :  the  in 
ventor  of  glass :  the  inventor  of  silk  of  the  worm : 
the  inventor  of  wine :  the  inventor  of  corn  and 
bread  :  the  inventor  of  sugars  :  and  all  these  by 
more  certain  tradition  than  you  have.  Then  have 
we  divers  inventors  of  our  own  excellent  works  ; 
which  since  you  have  not  seen,  it  were  too  long  to 
make  descriptions  of  them ;  and  besides,  in  the 
right  understanding  of  these  descriptions  you 
might  easily  err.  For  upon  every  invention  of 
value,  we  erect  a  statue  to  the  inventor,  and  give 
him  a  liberal  and  honourable  reward.  These 
statues  are  some  of  brass;  some  of  marble  and 
touch-stone ;  some  of  cedar,  and  other  special 
woods  gilt  and  adorned  :  some  of  iron ;  some  of 
silver ;  some  of  gold. 

"  WTe  have  certain  hymns  and  services,  which 
we  say  daily,  of  laud  and  thanks  to  God  for  his 
marvellous  works :  and  forms  of  prayers,  implor- 
z2 


270 


NEW  ATLANTIS. 


ing  his  aid  and  blessing  for  the  illumination  of  our 
labours ;  and  the  turning  of  them  into  good  and 
holy  uses. 

"  Lastly,  we  have  circuits  or  visits  of  divers 
principal  cities  of  the  kingdom;  where  as  it 
cometh  to  pass,  we  do  publish  new  profitable  in 
ventions  as  we  think  good.  Arid  we  do  also  de 
clare  natural  divinations  of  diseases,  plagues, 
swarms  of  hurtful  creatures,  scarcity,  tempests, 
earthquakes,  great  inundations,  comets,  tempera 
ture  of  the  year,  and  divers  other  things ;  and  we 
give  counsel  thereupon  what  the  people  shall  do 
for  the  prevention  and  remedy  of  them." 

And  when  he  had  said  this  he  stood  up  ;  and  I, 
as  I  had  been  taught,  kneeled  down;  and  he  laid 
his  right  hand  upon  my  head,  and  said ;  "  God 
bless  thee,  my  son,  and  God  bless  this  relation 


which  I  have  made.  I  give  thee  leave  to  publish 
it  for  the  good  of  other  nations  ;  for  we  here  are 
in  God's  bosom  a  land  unknown."  And  so  he  left 
me  ;  having  assigned  a  value  of  about  two  thou 
sand  ducats,  for  a  bounty  to  me  and  my  fellows. 
For  they  give  great  largesses  where  they  come 
upon  all  occasions. 

[THE  REST  WAS  NOT  PERFECTED.] 


NOTE. 

Referring  to  page  255, 

There  have  been  various  editions  of  the  New  Atlantis. 
In  1631,  it  was  translated  into  French,  of  which  there  is  a 
copy  in  the  British  Museum ;  where  there  is  also  the  New 
Atlantis  continued  A.D.  1660,  by  R.  H.  Esq.  wherein  is  set 
forth  a  platform  of  monarchical  government:  and  also  in 
French,  A.  D.  1702,  avec  des  reflexions  sur  I'institution  et  lea 
occupations  des  academies,  &c.  par  M.  R. 


EDITOR'S   PREFACE 

TO 

I.  THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 
II.  CIVIL  HISTORY.  III.  BIOGRAPHY. 

1.  History  of  Henry  VII.  1.  Queen  Elizabeth. 

2.  History  of  Henry  VIII.  2.  Julius  Caesar. 

3.  History  of  Great  Britain.  3.  Augustus  Caesar. 

4.  The  State  of  Europe.  4.  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 

The  first  edition  of  this  work  was  published  in  Latin  in  the  year  1609.     It  is  entitled — 

FRANCISCI 

BACONI 
EQVITIS  AVRATI, 

PROCVRATORIS  SE- 

CVNDI,  JACOBI  REGIS 

MAGNJE  BRITANNIJE 

DE  SAPIENTIA 

VETERVM  LIBER, 

AD  INCLYTAM  ACADEMIAM 

CANTABRIGIENSEM. 

LONDINI 

EXCUDEBAT  ROBERTUS  BAR- 

KERUS  SERENISSIMJE  REGLSE 

MAIESTATIS  TYPOGRAPHIC 

ANNO  1609. 

In  February  27,  1610,  Lord  Bacon  wrote  "  To  MR.  MATTHEW,  upon  sending  his  book  *  De  Sa- 
pientia  Veterum.' 

"  Mr.  Matthew, 

"  I  do  very  heartily  thank  you  for  yourtetter  of  the  24th  of  August  from  Salamanca;  and  in  recom- 
pence  thereof  I  send  you  a  little  work  of  mine  that  hath  begun  to  pass  the  world.  They  tell  me  my 
Latin  is  turned  into  silver,  and  become  current :  had  you  been  here,  you  should  have  been  my  inqui 
sitor  before  it  came  forth  :  but,  I  think,  the  greatest  inquisitor  in  Spain  will  allow  it.  But  one  thing 
you  must  pardon  me,  if  I  make  no  haste  to  believe,  that  the  world  should  be  grown  to  such  an  ecstasy 
as  to  reject  truth  in  philosophy,  because  the  author  dissenteth  in  religion;  no  more  than  they  do  by 
Aristotle  or  Averroes.  My  great  work  goeth  forward  ;  and  after  my  manner,  I  alter  ever  when  I 
add.  So  that  nothing  is  finished  till  all  be  finished.  This  I  have  written  in  the  midst  of  a  term  and 
parliament ;  thinking  no  time  so  possessed,  but  that  I  should  talk  of  these  matters  with  so  good  and 
dear  a  friend.  And  so  with  my  wonted  wishes  I  leave  you  to  God's  goodness." 

;'  From  Gray's  Inn,  Feb.  27,  1610." 

And  in  his  letter  to  Father  Fulgentio,  giving  some  account  of  his  writings,  he  says,  "  My  Essays 
will  not  only  be  enlarged  in  number,  but  still  more  in  substance.  Along  with  them  goes  the  little 
piece  '  De  Sapientia  Veterum.'  " 

Bacon's  sentiments  with  respect  to  these  fables  may  be  found  in  the  "Advancement  of  Learning,"  and 
in  the  "  De  Augmentis,"  under  the  head  of  Poetry. 

In  the  "  Advancement  of  Learning,"  he  says,  "  There  remaineth  yet  another  use  of  poesy  paraboli 
cal,  opposite  to  that  which  we  last  mentioned :  for  that  tendeth  to  demonstrate  and  illustrate  that 
which  is  taught  or  delivered,  and  this  other  to  retire  and  obscure  it:  that  is,  when  the  secrets  and 
mysteries  of  religion,  policy,  or  philosophy,  are  involved  in  fables  or  parables.  Of  this  in  divine 

271 


272  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

poesy  we  see  the  use  is  authorized.  In  heathen  poesy  we  see  the  exposition  of  fables  doth  fall  out 
sometimes  with  great  felicity;  as  in  the  fable  that  the  giants  being  overthrown  in  their  war  against 
the  gods,  the  Earth  their  mother  in  revenge  thereof  brought  forth  Fame : 

"Illam  Terra  parens,  ira  irritata  deorum, 
Extremam,  ut  perhibent,  Cceo  Enceladoque  sororem 
Progenuit:" 

expounded,  that  when  princes  and  monarchs  have  suppressed  actual  and  open  rebels,  then  the  malig 
nity  of  the  people,  which  is  the  mother  of  rebellion,  doth  bring  forth  libels  and  slanders,  and  taxations 
of  the  state,  which  is  of  the  same  kind  with  rebellion,  but  more  feminine.  So  in  the  fable,  that  the 
rest  of  the  gods  having  conspired  to  bind  Jupiter,  Pallas  called  Briareus  with  his  hundred  hands  to 
his  aid  :  expounded,  that  monarchies  need  not  fear  any  curbing  of  their  absoluteness  by  mighty  sub 
jects,  as  long  as  by  wisdom  they  keep  the  hearts  of  the  people,  who  will  be  sure  to  come  in  on  their 
side.  So  in  the  fable,  that  Achilles  was  brought  up  under  Chiron  the  Centaur,  who  was  part  a  man 
and  part  a  beast:  expounded  ingeniously, but  corruptly  by  Machiavel,  that  it  belongeth  to  the  educa 
tion  and  discipline  of  princes  to  know  as  well  how  to  play  the  part  of  the  lion  in  violence,  and  the 
fox  in  guile,  as  of  the  man  in  virtue  and  justice.  Nevertheless,  in  many  the  like  encounters,  I  do 
rather  think  that  the  fable  was  first  and  the  exposition  then  devised,  than  that  the  moral  was  first,  and 
thereupon  the  fable  framed.  For  I  find  it  was  an  ancient  vanity  in  Chrysippus,  that  troubled  himself 
with  great  contention  to  fasten  the  assertions  of  the  Stoics  upon  the  fictions  of  the  ancient  poets ;  but 
yet  that  all  the  fables  and  fictions  of  the  poets  were  but  pleasure  and  not  figure,  I  interpose  no  opi 
nion.  Surely  of  those  poets  which  are  now  extant,  even  Homer  himself,  (notwithstanding  he  was 
made  a  kind  of  Scripture  by  the  latter  schools  of  the  Grecians,)  yet  I  should  without  any  difficulty 
pronounce  that  his  fables  had  no  such  inwardness  in  his  own  meaning;  but  what  they  might  have 
upon  a  more  original  tradition,  is  not  easy  to  affirm ;  for  he  was  not  the  inventor  of  many  of 
them." 

In  the  treatise  "  De  Augmentis,"  the  same  sentiments  will  be  found  with  a  slight  alteration  in  the 
expressions.  He  says,  "  There  is  another  use  of  parabolical  poesy,  opposite  to  the  former,  which 
tendeth  to  the  folding  up  of  those  things,  the  dignity  whereof  deserves  to  be  retired  and  distinguish 
ed,  as  with  a  drawn  curtain  :  that  is,  when  the  secrets  and  mysteries  of  religion,  policy,  and  philo 
sophy  are  veiled  and  invested  with  fables,  and  parables.  But  whether  there  be  any  mystical  sense 
couched  under  the  ancient  fables  of  the  poets,  may  admit  some  doubt :  and  indeed  for  our  part  we 
incline  to  this  opinion,  as  to  think,  that  there  was  an  infused  mystery  in  many  of  the  ancient  fables 
of  the  poets.  Neither  doth  it  move  us  that  these  matters  are  left  commonly  to  school-boys,  and 
grammarians,  and  are  so  embased,  that  we  should  therefore  make  a  slight  judgment  upon  them; 
but  contrariwise  because  it  is  clear,  that  the  writings  which  recite  those  fables,  of  all  the  writ 
ings  of  men,  next  to  sacred  writ,  are  the  most  ancient  ;  and  that  the  fables  themselves  are  far 
more  ancient  than  they  (being  they  are  alleged  by  those  writers,  not  as  excogitated  by  them,  but  as  cre 
dited  <md  recepted  before)  seem  to  be,  like  a  thin  rarified  air,  which  from  the  traditions  of  more  ancient 
nations,  fell  into  the  flutes  of  the  Grecians." 

This  tract  seems  in  former  times,  to  have  been  much  valued,  for  the  same  reason,  perhaps,  which 
Bacon  assigns  for  the  currency  of  the  Essays ;  "  because  they  are  like  the  late  new  halfpence,  which, 
though  the  silver  is  good,  yet  the  pieces  are  small."  Of  this«tract,  Archbishop  Tenison,inhis  Bacon- 
iana,  says,  "  In  the  seventh  place,  I  may  reckon  his  book  De  Sapientia  Veterum,  written  by  him  in  Latin, 
and  set  forth  a  second  time,  with  enlargement;1  and  translated  into  English  by  Sir  Arthur  Georges  :  a 
book  in  which  the  sages  of  former  times  are  rendered  more  wise  than  it  may  be  they  were,  by  so 
dexterous  an  interpreter  of  their  fables.  It  is  this  book  which  Mr.  Sandys  means,  in  those  words  which 
he  hath  put  before  his  notes,  on  the  Metamorphosis  of  Ovid.  '  Of  modern  writers,  I  have  received  the 
greatest  light  from  Geraldus,  Pontanus,  Ficinus,  Vives,  Comes,  Scaliger,  Sabinus,  Pierius,  and  the 
crown  of  the  latter,  the  Viscount  of  St.  Albans.' 

"It  is  true,  the  design  of  this  book  was  instruction  in  natural  and  civil  matters,  either  couched  by 
the  ancients  under  those  fictions,  or  rather  made  to  seem  to  be  so  by  his  lordship's  wit,  in  the  opening 
and  applying  of  them.  But  because  the  first  ground  of  it  is  poetical  story,  therefore  let  it  have  this 
place,  till  a  fitter  be  found  for  it." 

The  author  of  Bacon's  Life,  in  the  Biographia  Britannica,  says,  "  that  he  might  relieve  himself  a 
little  from  the  severity  of  these  studies,  and  as  it  were  amuse  himself  with  erecting  a  magnificent  pa 
vilion,  while  his  great  palace  of  philosophy  was  building,  he  composed  and  sent  abroad  in  1610, 
his  celebrated  treatise  Of  the  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients,  in  which  he  showed  that  none  had  studied 
them  more  closely,  was  better  acquainted  with  their  beauties,  or  had  pierced  deeper  into  their  meaning. 
There  have  been  very  few  books  published,  either  in  this  or  in  any  other  nation,  which  either  deserved 
or  met  with  more  general  applause  than  this,  and  scarce  any  that  are  like  to  retain  it  longer,  for  in  this 
1  In  the  year  1617,  in  Latin.  It  was  published  in  Italian  in  1618— in  French  in  1619. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  273 

performance,  Sir  Francis  Bacon  gave  a  singular  proof  of  his  capacity  to  please  all  parties  in  literature, 
as  in  his  political  conduct  he  stood  fair  with  all  the  parties  in  the  nation.  The  admirers  of  antiquity 
were  charmed  with  this  discourse,  which  seems  expressly  calculated  to  justify  their  admiration;  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  their  opposites  were  no  less  pleased  with  a  piece,  from  which  they  thought  they 
could  demonstrate,  that  the  sagacity  of  a  modern  genius,  had  found  out  much  better  meanings  for  the 
ancients  than  ever  were  meant  by  them." 

And  Mallet,  in  his  Life  of  Bacon,  says,  "In  1610  he  published  another  treatise  entitled 
Of  the  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients.  This  work  bears  the  same  stamp  of  an  original  and  in 
ventive  genius  with  his  other  performances.  Resolving  not  to  tread  in  the  steps  of  those  who 
had  gone  before  him,  men,  according  to  his  own  expression,  not  learned  beyond  certain  common 
places,  he  strikes  out  a  new  tract  for  himself,  and  enters  into  the  most  secret  recesses  of  this  wild 
and  shadowy  region,  so  as  to  appear  new  on  a  known  and  beaten  subject.  Upon  the  whole,  if 
we  cannot  bring  ourselves  readily  to  believe  that  there  is  all  the  physical,  moral,  and  political  mean 
ing  veiled  under  those  fables  of  antiquity,  which  he  has  discovered  in  them,  we  must  own  that  it 
required  no  common  penetration  to  be  mistaken  with  so  great  an  appearance  of  probability  on  his 
side.  Though  it  still  remains  doubtful  whether  the  ancients  were  so  knowing  as  he  attempts  to 
show  they  were,  the  variety  and  depth  of  his  own  knowledge  are,  in  that  very  attempt  unques 
tionable." 

In  the  year  1G19,  this  tract  was  translated  by  Sir  Arthur  Georges.  Prefixed  to  the  work  are  two 
letters;  the  one  to  the  Earl  of  Salisbury,  the  other  to  the  University  of  Cambridge,  which  Georges 
omits,  and  dedicates  his  translation  to  the  High  and  Illustrious  Princess  the  Lady  Elizabeth  of 
Great  Britain,  Duchess  of  Baviare,  Countess  Palatine  of  Rheine,  and  Chief  Electress  of  the  Em 
pire.  As  this  translation  was  published  during  the  life  of  Lord  Bacon,  by  a  great  admirer  of  his 
works,  and  as  it  is  noticed  by  Archbishop  Tenison,  I  have  inserted  it  in  this  volume.  I  am  not  cer 
tain  that  I  have  done  right,  as  it  is  my  intention,  with  the  translation  of  all  the  works,  to  publish  a 
new  translation  of  these  fables ;  for  which  I  am  indebted  to  a  member  of  the  University  of  Oxford, 
who  has  lately  so  eminently  distinguished  himself  for  his  classical  attainments,  and  who  will  I  trust 
forgive  this  expression  of  my  affectionate  respect  for  his  virtuous  exertions.  It  would  be  grateful  to 
me  to  say  more. 

§  2. 
CIVIL  HISTORY. 

At  an  early  period  of  his  life,  Bacon  was  impressed  with  the  importance  of  a  History  of  England 
from  the  union  of  the  Roses  to  the  union  of  the  Kingdoms.  In  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  pub 
lished  in  1605,  he  says,  "  But  for  modem  histories,  whereof  there  are  some  few  very  worthy,  but  the 
greatest  part  beneath  mediocrity,  leaving  the  care  of  foreign  stories  to  foreign  states,  because  I  will 
not  be  '  curiosus  in  aliena  republica,'  I  cannot  fail  to  represent  to  your  majesty,  the  unworthiness  of 
the  history  of  England  in  the  main  continuance  thereof,  and  the  partiality  and  obliquity  of  that  of 
Scotland,  in  the  latest  and  largest  author  that  I  have  seen;  supposing  that  it  would  be  honour  for 
your  majesty,  and  a  work  very  memorable,  if  this  island  of  Great  Brittany,  as  it  is  now  joined  in 
monarchy  for  the  ages  to  come :  so  were  joined  in  one  history  for  the  times  passed,  after  the  manner 
of  the  sacred  history,  which  draweth  down  the  story  of  the  ten  tribes,  and  of  the  two  tribes,  as  twins 
together.  And  if  it  shall  seem  that  the  greatness  of  this  work  may  make  it  less  exactly  performed, 
there  is  an  excellent  period  of  much  smaller  compass  of  time,  as  to  the  story  of  England,  that  is  to 
say,  from  the  uniting  of  the  roses,  to  the  uniting  of  the  kingdoms  ;  a  portion  of  time  wherein,  to  my 
understanding,  there  hath  been  the  rarest  varieties  that  in  like  number  of  successions  of  any  heredi 
tary  monarchy  hath  been  known :  for  it  beginneth  with  the  mixed  adoption  of  a  crown  by  arms  and 
title  ;  an  entry  by  battle,  an  establishment  by  marriage :  and  therefore  times  answerable,  like  waters 
after  a  tempest,  full  of  working  and  swelling,  though  without  extremity  of  storm:  but  well  passed 
through  by  the  wisdom  of  the  pilot,  being  one  of  the  most  sufficient  kings  of  all  the  number.  Then 
followeth  the  reign  of  a  king,  whose  actions,  howsoever  conducted,  had  much  intermixture  with  the 
affairs  of  Europe,  balancing  and  inclining  them  variably ;  in  whose  time  also  began  that  great  altera 
tion  in  the  state  ecclesiastical,  an  action  which  seldom  cometh  upon  the  stage.  Then  the  reign  of  a 
minor:  then  an  offer  of  an  usurpation,  though  it  was  but  as  '  febris  ephemera:'  then  the  reign  of  a 
queen  matched  with  a  foreigner  :  then  of  a  queen  that  lived  solitary  and  unmarried,  and  yet  her  go 
vernment  so  masculine  that  it  had  greater  impression  and  operation  upon  the  states  abroad  than  ii 
any  ways  received  from  thence.  And  now  last,  this  most  happy  and  glorious  event  that  this  island 
of  Britain,  divided  from  all  the  world,  should  be  thus  united  in  itself :  and  that  oracle  of  rest,  given 
to  jEneas.  '  Antiquam  exquirite  matrem,'  should  now  be  performed  and  fulfilled  upon  the  nations  of 
England  and  Scotland,  being  now  reunited  in  the  ancient  mother  name  of  Britain,  as  a  full  period 

VOL. 


274  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

of  all  instability  and  peregrinations  ;  so  that  as  it  cometh  to  pass  in  massive  bodies,  that  they  have 
certain  trepidations  and  waverings  before  they  fix  and  settle;  so  it  seemeth  that  by  the  providence  of 
God,  this  monarchy,  before  it  was  to  settle  in  your  majesty  and  your  generations,  (in  which,  I  hope, 
it  is  now  established  forever,)  had  these  prelusive  changes  and  varieties." 

And  the  same  passage  is  repeated  in  the  treatise  "  De  Augmentis,"  which  was  published  in  the 
year  1623,  with  the  omission  of  the  praise  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth. 

HISTORY  OF  HENRY    VII. 

The  history  of  Henry  VII.  was  written  in  English,  and  was  the  first  book  which  he  composed 
after  his  retirement  from  active  life.1  In  a  letter  to  the  king,  dated  20th  of  March,  1621, 
he  says, 

"  To  the  King's  most  excellent  majesty. 
'"  May  it  please  your  majesty, 

"I  acknowledge  myself  in  all  humbleness  infinitely  bounden  to  your  majesty's  grace  and 
goodness,  for  that,  at  the  intercession  of  my  noble  and  constant  friend,  my  lord  marquis,  your  ma 
jesty  hath  been  pleased  to  grant  me  that  which  the  civilians  say  is  '  res  inaestimabilis,'  my  liberty.  So 
that  now,  whenever  God  calleth  me,  I  shall  not  die  a  prisoner.  Nay,  farther,  your  majesty  hath 
vouchsafed  to  cast  a  second  and  iterate  aspect  of  your  eye  of  compassion  upon  me,  in  referring  the 
consideration  of  my  broken  estate  to  my  good  lord  the  treasurer  ;  which  as  it  is  a  singular  bounty  in 
your  majesty,  so  I  have  yet  so  much  left  of  a  late  commissioner  of  your  treasurers  I  would  be  sorry 
to  sue  for  any  thing  that  might  seem  immodest.  These  your  majesty's  great  benefits,  in  casting 
your  bread  upon  the  waters,  as  the  Scripture  saith,  because  my  thanks  cannot  anyways  be  sufficient 
to  attain,  I  have  raised  your  progenitor  of  famous  memory,  (and  now,  I  hope,  of  more  famous  memory 
than  before,)  King  Henry  VII.,  to  give  your  majesty  thanks  for  me ;  which  work,  most  humbly  kiss 
ing  your  majesty's  hands,  I  do  present.  And  because,  in  the  beginning  of  my  trouble,  when  in  the 
midst  of  the  tempest  I  had  a  kenning  of  the  harbour,  which  I  hope  now  by  your  majesty's  favour  I 
am  entering  into,  I  made  a  tender  to  your  majesty  of  two  works,  '  A  History  of  England,'  and  «  A 
digest  of  your  laws;'  as  I  have,  by  a  figure  of  pars  pro  toto,  performed  the  one,  so  I  have  herewith 
sent  your  majesty,  by  way  of  an  epistle,  a  new  offer  of  the  other.  But  my  desire  is  farther,  if  it 
stand  with  your  majesty's  good  pleasure,  since  now  my  study  is  my  exchange,  and  my  pen  my 
factor,  for  the  use  of  my  talent;  that  your  majesty,  who  is  a  great  master  in  these  things,  would  be 
pleased  to  appoint  me  some  task  to  write,  and  that  I  shall  take  for  an  oracle.  And  because  my  '  In- 
stauration,'  which  I  esteem  my  great  work,  and  do  still  go  on  with  silence,  was  dedicated  to  your 
majesty ;  and  this  '  History  of  King  Henry  VII.'  to  your  lively  and  excellent  image  the  prince  ;  if 
now  your  majesty  will  be  pleased  to  give  me  a  theme  to  dedicate  to  my  Lord  of  Buckingham,  whom 
I  have  so  much  reason  to  honour,  I  should  with  more  alacrity  embrace  your  majesty's  direction  than 
my  own  choice.  Your  majesty  will  pardon  me  for  troubling  you  thus  long.  God  evermore  preserve 
and  prosper  you.  Your  majesty's  poor  beadsman  most  devoted, 

"FR.  ST.  ALBAN. 
"  Gorhambury,  20  Mar.  1621." 

"  To  the  Right  Honourable  his  very  good  lord,  the  Lord  Marquis  of  Buckingham,  High-Admiral 
of  England. 

"My  very  good  lord, 

"  These  main  and  real  favours  which  I  have  lately  received  from  your  good  lordship,  in  procuring 
my  liberty,  and  a  reference  of  the  consideration  of  my  release,  are  such,  as  I  now  find  that  in  build 
ing  upon  your  lordship's  noble  nature  and  friendship,  I  have  built  upon  the  rock,  where  neither 
winds  nor  waves  can  cause  overthrow.  I  humbly  pray  your  lordship  to  accept  from  me  such  thanks 
as  ought  to  come  from  him  whom  you  have  so  much  comforted  in  fortune,  and  much  more  comforted 
in  showing  your  love  and  affection  to  him ;  of  which  also  I  have  heard  by  my  Lord  Falkland,  Sir 
Edward  Sackville,  Mr.  Mathews,  and  otherways. 

"  I  have  written,  as  my  duty  was,  to  his  majesty,  thanks  touching  the  same,  by  the  letter  here  put 
into  your  noble  hands. 

"  I  have  made  also,  in  that  letter,  an  offer  to  his  majesty,  of  my  service,  for  bringing  into  better 

1  "His  historical  works  are  these  : — the  first  is  the  history  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  written  elegantly,  by  his  lordship  in  the 
English  tongue,  and  addressed  to  his  Highness  the  Prince  of  Wales  :  and  turned  afterwards  into  Latin.  A  history  which 
required  such  a  reporter :  those  times  being  times  both  of  great  revolution,  and  settlement,  through  the  division  and 
union  of  the  roses. 

"This  was  the  first  book  which  he  composed  after  his  retirement  from  an  active  life.  Upon  which  occasion  he  wrote  thug 
to  the  Bishop  of  Winchester.  Being  (as  I  am)  no  more  able  to  do  my  country  service,  it  remaineth  unto  me,  to  do  it 
bonour;  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  do  in  my  work  of  the  reign  of  King  Henry  the  Seventh."— Baconiana. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  275 

order  and  frame  the  laws  of  England  :  the  declaration  whereof  I  have  left  with  Sir  Edward  Sackville, 
because  it  were  no  good  manners  to  clog  his  majesty,  at  this  time  of  triumph  and  recreation,  with  a 
business  of  this  nature ;  so  as  your  lordship  may  be  pleased  to  call  for  it  to  Sir  Edward  Sackville 
when  you  think  the  time  seasonable. 

"  I  am  bold  likewise  to  present  your  lordship  with  a  book  of  my  '  History  of  King  Henry  the 
Seventh.'  And  now  that,  in  summer  was  twelve  months,  I  dedicated  a  book  to  his  majesty  ;  and 
this  last  summer,  this  book  to  the  prince  ;  your  lordship's  turn  is  next,  and  this  summer  that  cometh 
(if  I  live  to  it)  shall  be  yours.  I  have  desired  his  majesty  to  appoint  me  the  task,  otherwise  I  shall  use 
my  own  choice;  for  this  is  the  best  retribution  I  can  make  to  your  lordship.  God  prosper  you.  I  rest 

"  Your  lordship's  most  obliged  friend  and  faithful  servant, 

"  FR.  ST.  ALBAN. 

"  Gorhambury,  this  20th  of  March,  1621." 

On  September  5,  1621,  Bacon,  in  a  letter  to  the  Marquis  of  Buckingham,  says,  "I  am  much 
fallen  in  love  with  a  private  life ;  but  yet  I  shall  so  spend  my  time,  as  shall  not  decay  my  abilities 
for  use." 

On  the  8th  of  October,  1621,  he  wrote  the  following  letter  to  the  king. 

"  It  may  please  your  most  excellent  majesty, — I  do  very  humbly  thank  your  majesty  for  your  gra 
cious  remission  of  my  fine.  I  can  now,  I  thank  God  and  you,  die,  and  make  a  will. 

"I  desire  to  do,  for  the  little  time  God  shall  send  me  life,  like  the  merchants  of  London,  which 
when  they  give  over  trade,  lay  out  their  money  upon  land.  So,  being  freed  from  civil  business,  I 
lay  forth  my  poor  talent  upon  those  things,  which  may  be  perpetual,  still  having  relation  to  do  you 
honour  with  those  powers  I  have  left. 

I  have  therefore  chosen  to  write  the  reign  of  King  Henry  the  Seventh,  who  was  in  a  sort  your  for- 
runner,  and  whose  spirit,  as  well  as  his  blood,  is  doubled  upon  your  majesty. 

"  I  durst  not  have  presumed  to  entreat  your  majesty  to  look  over  the  book,  and  correct  it,  or  at 
least  to  signify  what  you  would  have  amended.  But  since  you  are  pleased  to  send  for  the  book,  I 
will  hope  for  it. 

"  God  knoweth,  whether  ever  I  shall  see  you  again:  but  I  will  pray  for  you  to  the  last  gasp, rest 
ing  1  the  same,  your  true  beadsman,  FR.  ST.  ALBAN. 
"October  8th,  1621." 

During  the  progress  of  the  work,  considerable  expectation  was  excited  respecting  the  history. 
Rawley,  in  his  life  of  Bacon,  says,  "  His  fame  is  greater,  and  sounds  louder,  in  foreign  parts  abroad 
than  at  home,  in  his  own  nation.  Thereby  verifying  that  divine  sentence;  a  prophet  is  not  without 
honour,  save  in  his  own  country,  and  in  his  own  house.  Concerning  which.  I  will  give  you  a  taste 
only,  out  of  a  letter  written  from  Italy,  (the  storehouse  of  refined  wits,)  to  the  late  Earl  of  Devon 
shire;' then  the  Lord  Cavendish.  I  will  expect  the  new  Essays  of  my  Lord  Chancellor  Bacon,  as 
also  his  history,  with  a  great  deal  of  desire  :  and  whatsoever  else  he  shall  compose.  But  in  particu 
lar,  of  his  history,  I  promise  myself,  a  thing  perfect,  and  singular;  especially  in  Henry  the  Seventh, 
where  he  may  exercise  the  talent  of  his  divine  understanding." 

After  the  completion  of  the  work  there  seems  to  have  been  a  demur  with  respect  to  its  publication, 
in  a  letter  from  Sir  Thomas  Meautys,2  he  says,  "  May  it  please  your  lordship,  I  have  been  attending 
upon  my  lord  marquis'  minutes  for  the  signing  of  the  warrant." 

The  letter  then  continues,  and,  in  the  conclusion,  says,  "  Your  books  are  ready,  and  passing  well 
bound  up.  If  your  lordship's  letters  to  the  king,  prince,  and  my  lord  marquis  were  ready,  I  think 
it  were  good  to  lose  no  time  in  their  delivery  ;  for  the  printer's  fingers  itch  to  be  selling." 

It  seems  by  the  following  letter,  that  there  was  another  letter  from  Sir  Thomas  Meautys  complain 
ing  of  this  demur. 

"  Good  Mr.  Meautys,  for  the  difference  of  the  warrant,  it  is  not  material  at  the  first.  But  I  may 
not  stir  till  I  have  it ;  and  therefore  I  expect  it  to-morrow. 

"  For  my  Lord  of  London's  stay,  there  may  be  an  error  in  my  book  ;  but  I  am  sure  there  is  none 
in  me,  since  the  king  had  it  three  months  by  him,  and  allowed  it ;  if  there  be  any  thing  to  be  mended 
it  is  better  to  be  espied  now  than  hereafter. 

"  I  send  you  the  copies  of  the  three  letters,  which  you  have ;  and,  in  mine  own  opinion,  this  demur, 
as  you  term  it,  in  my  Lord  of  London,3  maketh  it  more  necessary  than  before,  that  they  were  deli 
vered,  specially  in  regard  they  contain  withal  my  thanks.     It  may  be  signified  they  were  sent  he 
fore  I  knew  of  any  stay  :  and  being  but  in  those  three  hands,  they  are  private  enough.     But  this  1 
leave  merely  at  your  discretion,  resting  your  most  affectionate  and  assured  friend, 

"  FR.  ST.  ALBAN. 

"March  21,  1621." 

1  Note.    This  passage  has  a  line  drawn  over  it.  a Birch,  310.  •  Dr.  George  Mountain 


276  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

It  was  published  in  folio,  in  the  year  1625.    The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  titlepage. 

The 

Historic 

Of  the  Raigne 

Of  King 

Henry 

The  Seventh 

Written 
By  the  Right  Honourable 

Francis 

Lord  Verulam,  Viscount 
St.  Alban. 


London, 

Printed  by  W.  Stransby  for  Matthew 

Lownes,  and  William 

Barret. 

1622. 

He  sent  copies  of  the  history,  to  the  Queen  of  Bohemia,  and  to  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  Dr.  Wil 
liams,  his  successor. 

"To  the  Queen  of  Bohemia. 
"  It  may  please  your  majesty, 

"  I  find  in  books,  and  books  I  dare  allege  to  your  majesty  in  regard  of  your  singular  ability  to 
read  and  judge  of  them  even  above  your  sex,  that  it  is  accounted  a  great  bliss  for  a  man  to  have 
leisure  with  honour.  That  was  never  my  fortune  nor  is.  For  time  was,  I  had  honour  without 
leisure ;  and  now  I  have  leisure  without  honour.  And  I  cannot  say  so  neither  altogether,  considering 
there  remain  with  me  the  marks  and  stamp  of  the  king's,  your  father's,  grace,  though  I  go  not  for 
so  much  in  value  as  I  have  done.  But  my  desire  is  now  to  have  leisure  without  loitering,  and  not 
to  become  an  abbey-lubber,  as  the  old  proverb  was,  but  to  yield  some  fruit  of  my  private  life. 
Having  therefore  written  the  reign  of  your  majesty's  famous  ancestor,  King  Henry  the  Seventh,  and 
it  having  passed  the  file  of  his  Majesty's  judgment,  and  been  graciously  also  accepted  of  the  prince, 
your  brother,  to  whom  it  is  dedicated,  I  could  not  forget  my  duty  so  far  to  your  excellent  majesty,  to 
whom,  for  that  I  know  and  have  heard,  I  have  been  at  all  times  so  much  bound,  as  you  are  ever 
present  with  me,  both  in  affection  and  admiration,  as  not  to  make  unto  you,  in  all  humbleness,  a 
present  thereof,  as  now  being  not  able  to  give  you  tribute  of  any  service.  If  King  Henry  the  Se 
venth  were  alive  again,  I  hope  verily  he  could  not  be  so  angry  with  me  for  not  flattering  him,  as  well 
pleased  in  seeing  himself  so  truly  described  in  colours  that  will  last  and  be  believed.  I  most  hum 
bly  pray  your  majesty  graciously  to  accept  of  my  good-will ;  and  so,  with  all  reverence  kiss  your 
hands,  praying  to  God  above,  by  his  divine  and  most  benign  providence,  to  conduct  your  affairs  to 
happy  issue  ;  and  resting 

"  Your  majesty's  most  humble  and  devoted  servant,  FR.  ST.  ALBAN. 

"  April  20,  1G22." 

"  To  the  Lord  Viscount  St.  Alban. 
"  My  very  good  lord, 

"I  have  received,  by  this  bearer,  the  privy  seal  for  the  survey  of  coals,  which  I  will  lay  aside 
until  I  shall  hear  further  from  my  lord  steward,  and  the  rest  of  the  lords. 

"I  am  ready  to  do  as  much  as  your  lordship  desireth,  in  keeping  Mr.  Cotton  of  from  the  violence 
of  those  creditors:  only  himself  is,  as  yet,  wanting  in  some  particular  directions. 

"I  heartily  thank  your  lordship  for  your  book ;  and  all  other  symbols  of  your  love  and  affection, 
which  I  will  endeavour,  upon  all  opportunities,  to  deserve  :  and,  in  the  mean  time,  do  rest 

"  Your  lordship's  assured  faithful 

"  poor  friend  and  servant, 

"  Westminster  College,  this  7th  of  Febuary,  1022.  "  ^°'  LINCOLN,  C.  S. 

"  To  the  Right  Honourable  his  very  good  lord,  the  Lord  Viscount  St.  Alban." 

In  a  letter,  written  in  the  year  1622,  to  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  and  prefixed,  in  the  nature  of 
a  dedication,  to  his  dialogue  touching  a  holy  war,  he  says,  "  having  in  the  work  of  my  '  Instaura- 
t'otx'  had  in  contemplation  the  general  good  of  men  in  their  very  being,  and  the  dowries  of  nature; 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  277 

and  in  my  work  of  laws,  the  general  good  of  men  likewise  in  society,  and  the  dowries  of  govern 
ment  ;  I  thought  in  duty  I  owed  somewhat  unto  my  own  country,  which  I  ever  loved ;  insomuch  as 
although  my  place  hath  been  far  above  my  desert,  yet  my  thoughts  and  cares  concerning  the  good 
thereof  were  beyond,  and  over,  and  above  my  place :  so  now  being,  as  I  am,  no  more  able  to  do  my 
country  service,  it  remained  unto  me  to  do  it  honour :  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  do  in  my  work 
of  the  reign  of  King  Henry  the  Seventh." 

Soon  after  the  publication,  he  expressed  his  anxiety  that  the  history  should  be  translated  into 
Latin.  In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Tobie  Matthew,  he  says,  "  It  is  true,  my  labours  are  now  most  set  to  have 
those  works,  which  I  had  formerly  published,  as  that  of  Advancement  of  Learning,  that  of  Henry 
the  Seventh,  that  of  the  Essays,  being  retractate,  and  made  more  perfect,  well  translated  into  Latin 
by  the  help  of  some  good  pens,  which  forsake  me  not.  For  these  modern  languages  will,  at  one 
time  or  other,  play  the  bankrupts  with  books :  and  since  I  have  lost  much  time  with  this  age,  I 
would  be  glad,  as  God  shall  give  me  leave,  to  recover  it  with  posterity." 

In  the  year  1627,  this  history  was  published  in  French.1  In  1629,  there  was  a  new  edition  in 
English.  In  1638,  an  edition  in  Latin  was  published  by  Dr.  Rawley;  and  the  press  has  since 
abounded  with  editions.3 

Such  was  the  progress  of  the  History  of  Henry  the  Seventh. 

In  the  composition,  Lord  Bacon  seems  to  have  laboured  with  some  anxiety. 

Aubrey,  in  his  anecdotes,  says,  "  about  his  time,  and  within  his  view,  were  borne  all  the  wits  that 
could  honour  a  nation  or  help  study.  He  came  often  to  Sr.  John  Danvers  at  Chelsey.  Sir  John 
told  me  that  when  his  lordship  had  wrote  the  history  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  he  sent  the  manuscript 
copy  to  him  to  desire  his  opinion  of  it  before  'twas  printed.  Qd  Sir  John,  your  lordship  knows 
that  I  am  no  scholar.  'Tis  no  matter,  said  my  lord,  I  know  what  a  scholar  can  say ;  I  would  know 
what  you  can  say.  Sir  John  read  it,  and  gave  his  opinion  what  he  misliked,  (which  I  am  sorry  I 
have  forgot,)  which  my  lord  acknowledged  to  be  true,  and  mended  it.  <  Why,'  said  he,  '  a  scholar 
would  never  have  told  me  this.'  " 

And  it  appears  by  a  letter  from  his  faithful  friend,  Sir  Thomas  Meautys,  that  the  king  did  correct 
the  manuscript.  The  letter  is  dated  January  7,  162^,  and  directed  "To  the  Lord  Viscount  St. 
Alban."  It  contains  the  following  passage. 

"  Mr.  Murray  tells  me,  the  king  hath  given  your  book  to  my  Lord  Brooke,  and  enjoined  him  to 
read  it,  recommending  it  much  to  him :  and  then  my  Lord  Brooke  is  to  return  it  to  your  lordship  ; 
and  so  it  may  go  to  the  press,  when  your  lordship  pleases,  with  such  amendments,  as  the  king  hath 
made,  which  I  have  seen,  and  are  very  few,  and  those  rather  words,  as  epidemic,  and  mild  instead 
of  debonnaire,  &c.  Only  that  of  persons  attainted,  enabled  to  serve  in  parliament  by  a  bare  reversal 
of  their  attainder,  the  king  by  all  means  will  have  left  out.  1  met  with  my  Lord  Brooke,  and  told 
him  that  Mr.  Murray  had  directed  me  to  wait  upon  him  for  the  book,  when  he  had  done  with  it. 
He  desired  to  be  spared  this  week,  as  being  to  him  a  week  of  much  business;  and  the  next  week  I 
should  have  it :  and  he  ended  in  a  compliment,  that  care  should  be  taken,  by  all  means,  for  good  ink 
and  paper  to  print  it  in ;  for  that  the  book  deserveth  it.  I  beg  leave  to  kiss  your  lordship's  hands." 

But  notwithstanding  this  labour  and  anxiety,  the  work  is  perhaps  an  illustration  of  Archbishop 
Tenison's  observation  upon  Dr.  Playfer's  attempt  to  translate  the  "Advancement  of  Learning." 

"  Men  generally  come  short  of  themselves  when  they  strive  to  outdo  themselves.  They  put  a 
force  upon  their  natural  genius,  and,  by  straining  of  it,  crack  and  disable  it." 

If,  however,  in  the  History  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  it  is  vain  to  look  for  the  vigour  or  beauty  with 
which  the  Advancement  of  Learning  abounds  :  if  there  is  not  such  nervous  language  as  "  the  honest 
and  just  bounds  of  observation  by  one  person  upon  another,  extend  no  farther  but  to  understand  him 
sufficiently  whereby  not  to  give  him  offence,  or  whereby  to  be  able  to  give  him  faithful  counsel,  or 
whereby  to  stand  upon  reasonable  guard  and  caution  in  respect  of  a  man's  self:  but  to  be  specula 
tive  into  another  man,  to  the  end  to  know  how  to  work  him,  or  wind  him,  or  govern  him,  proceedeth 
from  a  heart  that  is  double  and  cloven,  and  not  entire  and  ingenuous." 

If  there  is  not  such  beauty  as  "  men  have  entered  into  a  desire  of  learning  and  knowledge,  some 
times  upon  a  natural  curiosity,  and  inquisitive  appetite ;  sometimes  to  entertain  their  minds  with 
variety  and  delight  ^.sometimes  for  ornament  and  reputation ;  and  sometimes  to  enable  them  to  victory 
of  wit  and  contradiction ;  and  most  times  for  lucre  and  profession ;  and  seldom  sincerely  to  give  a 
true  account  of  their  gift  of  reason,  to  the  benefit  and  use  of  men :  as  if  there  were  sought  in  know 
ledge  a  couch,  whereupon  to  rest  a  searching  and  restless  spirit;  or  a  tarrasse  for  a  wandering  and 
variable  mind  to  walk  up  and  down  with  a  fair  prospect;  or  a  tower  of  state,  for  a  proud  mind  to 

1  8vo.  Paris,  Par  Holman,  of  which  there  is  a  copy  in  the  British  Museum. 

3  In  ICtl,  and  in  1617,  and  in  1662;  and  in  the  British  Museum  there  is  a  MS.  (Sloan's  collection,  84,)  entitled  Notes, 
taken  out  of  his  History  of  the  reign  of  Henry  Seventh;  and  another  MS.  Harleian,  vol.  ii.  of  Catalogue  300,  entit  ed  Notes 
of  Henry  Seventh's  reign,  set  down  in  MS.  by  the  Lord  Chancellor  Bacon. 

2  A 


278  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

raise  itself  upon;  or  a  fort  or  commanding  ground,  for  strife  and  contention;  or  a  shop,  for  profit  or 
sale;  and  not  a  rich  storehouse,  for  the  glory  of  the  Creator,  and  the  relief  of  man's  estate." 

If  the  intricacies  of  a  court  are  neither  discovered  nor  illustrated  with  the  same  happiness  as  the 
intricacies  of  philosophy,  "because  the  distributions  and  partitions  of  knowledge  are  not  like  several 
lines  that  meet  in  one  angle,  and  so  touch  but  in  a  point;  but  are  like  branches  of  a  tree,  that  meet 
in  a  stem,  which  hath  a  dimension  and  quantity  of  entireness  and  continuance,  before  it  come  to 
discontinue  and  break  itself  into  arms  and  boughs;  therefore  it  is  good,  before  we  enter  into  the 
former  distribution,  to  erect  and  constitute  one  universal  science,  by  the  name  of  '  Philosophia 
Priina,'  primitive  or  summary  philosophy,  as  the  main  and  common  way,  before  we  come  where 
the  ways  part  and  divide  themselves." 

" k  That  it  be  a  receptacle  for  all  such  profitable  observations  and  axioms  as  fall  not  within  the 
compass  of  any  of  the  special  parts  of  philosophy  or  sciences,  but  are  more  common  and  of  a  higher 
stage.'  Is  not  the  precept  of  a  musician,  to  fall  from  a  discord  or  harsh  accord  upon  a  concord  or 
sweet  accord,  alike  true  in  affection!  Is  not  the  trope  of  music,  to  avoid  or  slide  from  the  close  or 
cadence,  common  with  the  trope  of  rhetoric  of  deceiving  expectation1?  Is  not  the  delight  of  the 
quavering  upon  a  stop  in  music  the  same  with  the  playing  of  light  upon  the  water." 

If  in  a  work  written  when  the  author  was  more  than  sixty  years  of  age,  and  if,  after  the  vexa 
tions  and  labours  of  a  professional  and  political  life,  the  varieties  and  sprightliness  of  youthful 
imagination,  are  not  to  be  found,  yet  the  peculiar  properties  of  his  mind  may  easily  be  traced,  and 
the  stateliness  of  the  edifice  be  discovered  from  the  magnificence  of  the  ruins.  His  vigilance  in 
recording  every  fact  tending  to  alleviate  misery  or  to  promote  happiness,  is  noticed  by  Bishop  Sprat 
in  his  history  of  the  Royal  Society,  where  he  says,  "  I  shall  instance  in  the  sweating-sickness. 
The  medicine  for  it  was  almost  infallible :  but,  before  that  could  be  generally  published,  it  had  al 
most  dispeopled  whole  towns.  If  the  same  disease  should  have  returned,  it  might  have  been  again 
as  destructive,  had  not  the  Lord  Bacon  taken  care,  to  set  down  the  particular  course  of  physic  for 
it,  in  his  History  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  and  so  put  it  beyond  the  possibility  of  any  private  man's 
invading  it." 

And  his  account  of  the  same  calamity  contains  an  allusion  to  his  favourite  doctrine  of  vital  spirit, 
of  which  the  philosophy  is  explained  in  his  history  of  Life  and  Death,  and  illustrated  in  his  fable 
of  Proserpine  in  the  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients,  and  which  is  thus  stated  in  his  Sylva  Sylvarum : 

"The  knowledge  of  man,  hitherto,  hath  been  determined  by  the  view,  or  sight;  so  that  whatso 
ever  is  invisible,  either  in  respect  of  the  fineness  of  the  body  itself;  or  the  smallness  of  the  parts; 
or  of  the  subtilty  of  the  motion,  is  little  inquired.  And  yet  these  be  the  things  that  govern  nature 
principally ;  and  without  which,  you  cannot  make  any  true  analysis  and  indication  of  the  proceed 
ings  of  nature.  The  spirits  or  pneumaticals,  that  are  in  all  tangible  bodies,  are  scarce  known. 
Sometimes  they  take  them  for  vacuum ;  whereas  they  are  the  most  active  of  bodies.  Sometimes 
they  take  them  for  air;  from  which  they  differ  exceedingly,  as  much  as  wine  from  water;  and  as 
wood  from  earth.  Sometimes  they  will  have  them  to  be  natural  heat,  or  a  portion  of  the  element  of 
fire ;  whereas  some  of  them  are  crude,  and  cold.  And  sometimes  they  will  have  them  to  be  the  vir 
tues  and  qualities  of  the  tangible  parts,  which  they  see ;  whereas  they  are  things  by  themselves. 
And  then,  when  they  come  to  plants,  and  living  creatures,  they  call  them  souls.  And  such  super 
ficial  speculations  they  have ;  like  prospectives,  that  show  things  inward  when  they  are  but  paint 
ings.  Neither  is  this  a  question  of  words,  but  infinitely  material  in  nature.  For  spirits  are  nothing 
else  but  a  natural  body,  rarified  to  a  proportion,  and  included  in  the  tangible  parts  of  bodies,  as  in 
an  integument.  And  they  be  no  less  differing  one  from  the  other,  than  the  dense  or  tangible  parts : 
tind  they  arc  in  all  tangible  bodies  whatsoever,  more  or  less;  and  they  are  never  (almost)  at  rest: 
and  from  them,  and  their  motions,  principally  proceed  arefaction,  colliquation,  concoction,  matura 
tion,  putrefaction,  vivification,  and  most  of  the  effects  of  nature." 

One  of  his  maxims  of  government  for  the  enlargement  of  the  bounds  of  empire  is  to  be  found  in 
his  comment  upon  the  ordinance.  "  That  all  houses  of  husbandry,  thafwere  used  with  twenty 
acres  of  ground  and  upwards,  should  be  maintained  and  kept'up  forever;  together  with  a  competent 
proportion  of  land  to  be  used  and  occupied  with  them;"  and  which  is  thus  stated  in  the  treatise 
"  De  Augmentis,"  which  was  published  in  the  year  1623.  "  Let  states  and  kingdoms  that  aim  at 
greatness  by  all  means  take  heed  how  the  nobility,  and  grandees,  and  that  those  which  we  call  gen 
tlemen,  multiply  too  fast;  for  that  makes  the  common  subject  grow  to  be  a  peasant  and  base  swain 
driven  out  of  heart,  and  in  effect  nothing  else  but  the  nobleman's  bond-slaves  and  labourers.  Even 
as  you  may  see  in  coppice-wood,  if  you  leave  your  studdles  too  thick,  you  shall  never  have  clean 
underwood,  but  shrubs  and  bushes :  so  in  a  country,  if  the  nobility  be  too  many,  the  commons  will 
be  base  and  heartless,  and  you  will  bring  it  to  that,  that  not  the  hundredth  pole  will  be  fit  for  an 
helmet;  especially  as  to  the  infantry,  which  is  the  nerve  of  an  army;  and  so  there  will  be  great 
population  and  little  strength.  This  which  I  speak  of  hath  been  in  no  nation  more  clearly  confirmed 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  279 

than  in  the  examples  of  England  and  France,  whereof  England,  though  far  inferior  in  territory  and 
population,  hath  been  nevertheless  always  an  overmatch  in  arms ;  in  regard  the  middle-people  of  Eng 
land  make  good  soldiers,  which  the  peasants  of  France  do  not.  And  herein  the  device  of  Henry  the 
Seventh  King  of  England  (whereof  I  have  spoken  largely  in  the  history  of  his  life)  was  profound 
and  admirable,  in  making  farms  and  houses  of  husbandry  of  a  standard;  that  is  maintained  with 
such  a  proportion  of  land  unto  them,  as  may  breed  a  subject  to  live  in  convenient  plenty,  and  to 
keep  the  plough  in  the  hands  of  the  owners,  or  at  least  usufructuary,  and  not  hirelings  and  merce 
naries  ;  and  thus  a  country  shall  merit  that  character  whereby  Virgil  expresses  ancient  Italy, 

"  Terra  potens  armis  atque  ubere  gleba." 

His  love  of  familiar  illustration  is  to  be  found  in  various  parts  of  the  history;  speaking  of  the  com 
motion  by  the  Cornish  men  in  behalf  of  the  impostor  Perkin  Warbeck,  he  says,  "  The  course  he  held 
towards  the  rebels,  it  was  utterly  differing  from  his  former  custom  and  practice  :  which  was  ever  full 
of  forwardness  and  celerity  to  make  head  against  them,  or  to  set  upon  them  as  soon  as  ever  they 
were  in  action.  This  he  was  wont  to  do.  But  now,  besides  that  he  was  attempered  by  years,  and 
less  in  love  with  dangers,  by  the  continued  fruition  of  a  crown  ;  it  was  a  time  when  the  various  ap 
pearance  to  his  thoughts  of  perils  of  several  natures  and  from  divers  parts,  did  make  him  judge  it  his 
best  and  surest  way,  to  keep  his  strength  together  in  the  seat  and  centre  of  his  kingdom :  according  to 
the  ancient  Indian  emblem,  in  such  a  swelling  season,  to  hold  the  hand  upon  the  middle  of  the  blad 
der,  that  no  side  might  rise."  And  again,  "  All  this  while  the  rebellion  of  Cornwall,  whereof  we 
have  spoken  seemed  to  have  no  relation  to  Perkin ;  save  that  perhaps  Perkin's  proclamation  had 
stricken  upon  the  right  vein,  in  promising  to  lay  down  exactions  and  payments,  and  so  had  made  them 
now  and  then  have  a  kind  thought  on  Perkin.  But  now  these  bubbles  by  much  stirring  began  to 
meet,  as  they  use  to  do  upon  the  top  of  water."  And  his  kind  nature  and  holy  feeling  appear  in 
his  account  of  the  conquest  of  Granada.  "  SoirMrhat  about  this  time  came  letters  from 
Ferdinand o  and  Isabella,  King  and  Queen  of  Spain l^Jgnifying  the  final  conquest  of  Granada, 
from  the  Moors ;  which  action,  in  itself  so  worthy,  King  Ferdinando,  whose  manner  was  never  to 
lose  any  virtue  for  the  showing,  had  expressed  and  displayed  in  his  letters  at  large,  with  all  the  par 
ticularities  and  religious  punctos  and  ceremonies,  that  were  observed  in  the  reception  of  that  city 
and  kingdom  :  showing,  amongst  other  things|^iat  the  king  would  not  by  any  means  in  person 
enter  the  city,  until  he  had  first  aloof  seen  the  cross  set  up  upon  the  greater  tower  of  Granada, 
whereby  it  became  Christian  ground.  That  likewise  before  he  would  enter,  he  did  homage  to 
God  above,  pronouncing  by  a  herald  from  the  height  of  that  tower,  that  he  did  acknowledge  to 
have  recovered  that  kingdom  by  the  help  of  God  Almighty,  and  the  glorious  Virgin,  and  the  vir 
tuous  apostle  S?&nt  James,  and  the  holy  father  Innocent  the  Eighth,  together  with  the  aids  and 
services  of  his  prelates,  nobles,  and  commons.  That  yet  he  stirred  not  from  his  camp  till  he  had 
seen  a  little  army  of  martyrs,  to  the  number  of  seven  hundred  and  more  Christians  that  had  lived 
in  bonds  and  servitude,  as  slaves  to  the  Moors,  pass  before  his  eyes,  singing  a  psalm  for  their  re 
demption." 

HISTORY  OF  HENRY  VIII. 

• 

Of  this  tract  Archbishop  Tenison  says,  "  the  Second  is,  the  fragment  of  the  History  of  Henry  the 
Eighth,  printed  at  the  end  of  his  lordship's  miscellany  works,  of  which  the  best  edition  is  that  in 
quarto,  in  the  year  1629.  This  work  he  undertook,  upon  the  motion  of  King  Charles  the  First,  but 
(a  greater  king  not  lending  him  time)  he  only  began  it ;  for  that  which  we  have  of  it,  was  (it  seems) 
but  one  morning's  work." 

This  tract  is  thus  noticed  in»his  letters. 

To  the  Marquis  of  Buckingham. 
"  Excellent  lord, 

"Though  your  lordship's  absence  fall  out  in  an  ill  time  for  myself ;  yet  because  I  hope  in  God 
this  noble  adventure  will  make  your  lordship  a  rich  return  in  honour,  abroad  and  at  home,  and  chiefly 
in  the  inestimable  treasure  of  the  love  and  trust  of  that  thrice-excellent  prince ;  I  confess  I  am  so  glad 
of  it,  as  I  could  not  abstain  from  your  lordship's  trouble  in  seeing  it  expressed  by  these  few  and  hasty 
lines. 

"I  beseech  your  lordship,  of  your  nobleness  vouchsafe  to  present  my  most  humble  duty  to  his  high 
ness,  who,  I  hope,  ere  long  will  make  me  leave  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  and  set  me  on  work  in  re 
lation  of  his  highness's  adventures. 

<•!  very  humbly  kiss  your  lordship's  hands,  resting  ever 

«« Your  lordship's  most  obliged  friend  and  servant. 
"February  21,  1622.' 


280  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

To  the  Prince. 

"  It  may  please  your  excellent  highness, 

"  I  send  your  highness,  in  all  humbleness,  my  book  of  Advancement  of  Learning,  translated  into 
Latin,  but  so  enlarged  as  it  may  go  for  a  new  work.  It  is  a  book,  I  think,  will  live,  and  be  a  citizen 
of  the  world,  as  English  books  are  not.  For  Henry  the  Eighth,  to  deal  truly  with  your  highness,  I 
did  so  despair  of  my  health  this  summer,  as  I  was  glad  to  choose  some  such  work,  as  I  might  com 
pass  within  days  ;  so  far  was  I  from  entering  into  a  work  of  length.  Your  highness's  return  hath 
been  my  restorative.  When  I  shall  wait  upon  your  highness,  I  shall  give  you  a  farther  account.  So 
I  most  humbly  kiss  your  highness's  hands,  resting 

"  Your  highness's  most  devoted  servant. 

"I  would  (as  I  wrote  to  the  duke  in  Spain)  I  could  do  your  highness's  journey  any  honour  with 
my  pen.  It  began  like  a  fable  of  the  poets ;  but  it  deserveth  all  in  a  piece  a  worthy  narration." 

HISTORY    OF    GREAT    BRITAIN. 

The  first  letter  upon  this  subject  is 

"  To  the  Lord  Chancellor,  touching  the  History  of  Britain. 
"It  may  please  your  good  lordship, 

»  Some  lato  act  of  his  majesty,  referred  to  some  former  speech  which  I  have  heard  from  your 
lordship,  bred  in  me  a  great  desire,  and  the  strength  of  desire  a  boldness  to  make  an  humble  propo 
sition  to  your  lordship,  such  as  in  me  can  be  no  better  than  a  wish :  but  if  your  lordship  should 
apprehend  it,  it  may  take  some  good  and  worthy  effect.  The  act  I  speak  of,  is  the  order  given  by 
his  majesty  for  the  erection  of  a  tomb  or  monument  for  our  late  sovereign  Queen  Elizabeth  i1 
wherein  I  may  note  much,  but  only  this  ^Jfcis  time,  that  as  her  majesty  did  always  right  to  his 
majesty's  hopes,  so  his  highness  doth  in^j  things  right  to  her  memory;  a  very  just  and  princely 
retribution.  But  from  this  occasion,  by  Arery  easy  ascent,  I  passed  farther,  being  put  in  mind,  by 
this  representative  of  her  person,  of  the  more  true  and  more  vive  representation,  which  is  of  her  life 
and  government :  for  as  statues  and  pictures«are  dumb  histories,  so  histories  are  speaking  pictures ; 
wherein  if  my  affection  be  not  too  great,  or  my  racing  too  small,  I  am  of  this  opinion,  that  if  Plu 
tarch  were  alive  to  write  lives  by  parallels,  it  woSff  trouble  him  both  for  virtue  and  fortune,  to  find 
for  her  a  parallel  amongst  women.  And  though  she  was  of  the  passive  sex,  yet  her  government 
was  so  active,  as,  in  my  simple  opinion,  it  made  more  impression  upon  the  several  states  of  Europe, 
than  it  received  from  thence.  But  I  confess  unto  your  lordship  I  could  riot  stay  here,  but  went  a 
little  farther  into  the  consideration  of  the  times  which  have  passed  since  King  Hejiry  VIII ;  where 
in  I  find  the  strangest  variety,  that  in  so  little  number  of  successions  of  any  hereditary  monarchy 
hath  ever  been  known.  The  reign  of  a  child ;  the  offer  of  an  usurpation,  though  it  was  but  as  a 
diary  ague ;  the  reign  of  a  lady  married  to  a  foreigner ;  and  the  reign  of  a  lady  solitary  and  unmarried  ; 
so  that  as  it  cometh  to  pass  in  massy  bodies,  that  they  have  certain  trepidations  and  wavering  before 
they  fix  and  settle ;  so  it  seemeth  that  by  the  providence  of  God  this  monarchy,  before  it  was  to 
settle  in  his  majesty,  and  his  generations,  in  which  I  hope  it  is  now  established  forever,  hath  had 
these  prelusive  changes  in  these  barren  princes.  Neither  could  I  contain  myself  here,  as  it  is  easier 
for  a  man  to  multiply  than  to  stay  a  wish,  but  calling  to  remembrance  the  unworthiness  of  the  his 
tory  of  England,2  in  the  main  continuance  thereof;  and  the  partiality  and  obliquity  of  that  of  Scot 
land,  in  the  latest  and  largest  author3  that  I  have  seen:  I  conceived  it  would  be  honour  for  his 

1  "The  monument  here  spoken  of  was  erected  in  King  Henry  VII's  chapel  at  Westminster,  in  the  year  1606." 
a  "The  unworthiness  of  the  history  of  England  hath  been  long  complained  of  byjngenious  men,  both  of  this  and  other 
nations,  Sir  Francis  Bacon  hath  expressed  himself  much  to  the  same  effect,  though  more  at  large  in  his  second  book  of  the 
Advancement  of  Learning:  where  he  carries  this  period  of  remarkable  events  somewhat  higher  than  in  this  letter,  beginning 
with  the  union  of  the  roses  under  Henry  VII.  and  ending  with  the  union  of  the  kingdoms  under  King  James.  A  portion  of 
time  filled  with  so  great  and  variable  accidents  both  in  church  and  state,  and  since  so  well  discovered  to  the  view  of  the 
world,  that  had  other  parts  the  same  performance,  we  should  not  longer  lie  under  any  reproach  of  this  kind.  The  reign  of 
King  Henry  VII.  was  written  by  our  author  soon  after  his  retirement,  with  so  great  beauty  of  style,  and  wisdom  of  observa 
tion,  that  nothing  can  be  more  entertaining;  the  truth  of  history  not  being  disguised  with  the  false  colours  of  romance.  It 
was  so  acceptable  to  the  P.  of  Wales,  that  when  he  became  king,  he  commanded  him  to  proceed  with  the  reign  of  King 
Henry  VIII.  But  my  Lord  Bacon  meditating  the  history  of  nature,  which  he  hardly  lived  to  publish;  his  ill  state  of  health, 
and  succeeding  death,  put  an  end  to  this  and  other  noble  designs;  leaving  the  ecclesiastical  and  civil  affairs  of  those  times 
to  be  related  by  the  learned  pens  of  Dr.  Burnet,  notwithstanding  the  objections  of  the  avowed  enemies,  and  seeming  friends 
to  the  reformation,  and  the  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury  :  that  I  think  there  is  not  much  of  moment  to  be  expected  from  a  future 
hand.  And  for  the  annals  of  Queen  Elizabeth  compiled  by  Mr.  Camden,  the  esteem  of  them  is  as  universal  as  the  language 
in  which  they  are  written.  Nor  must  I  forget  in  this  place  to  take  notice  of  two  fair  and  large  volumes  lately  published 
in  French  by  Monsieur  de  Larrey ;  where  building  upon  the  foundations  laid  by  these  gentlemen,  and  some  other  memoirs, 
he  hath  not  forgotten  to  do  much  honour  to  the  English  nation :  beginning  his  history  also  with  Henry  VII." — Stephens. 

3  "This  I  take  to  be  meant  of  Buchanan's  history  of  Scotland;  a  book  much  admired  by  some,  though  censured  by  many 
for  his  partiality  in  favour  of  the  lords,  against  Mary  Queen  of  the  Scots,  and  the  regal  power.  In  other  respects,  Archbishop 
Spotswood  informs  us  that  he  penned  it  with  such  judgment  and  eloquence,  as  no  country  can  show  a  better." — Stephen  . 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  281 

majesty,  and  a  work  very  memorable,  if  this  island  of  Great  Britain,  as  it  is  now  joined  in  monarchy 
for  the  ages  to  come,  so  it  were  joined  in  history  for  the  times  past:  and  that  one  just  and  complete 
history  were  compiled  of  hoth  nations.  And  if  any  man  perhaps  should  think  it  may  refresh  tho 
memory  of  former  discords,  he  may  satisfy  himself  with  the  verse  'olim  haec  meminisse  juvabit:' 
for  the  case  being  now  altered,  it  is  matter  of  comfort  and  gratulation  to  remember  former  troubles. 
Thus  much,  if  it  may  please  your  lordship,  is  in  the  optative  mood ;  and  it  is  time  that  I  did  look  ;i 
little  into  the  potential;  wherein  the  hope  which  I  conceived  was  grounded  upon  three  observations. 
The  first,  the  nature  of  these  times,  which  flourish  in  learning,  both  of  art  and  language;  which 
giveth  hope  not  only  that  it  may  be  done,  but  that  it  may  be  well  done.  Secondly,  I  do  see  that 
which  all  the  world  sees  in  his  majesty,  both  a  wonderful  judgment  in  learning,  and  a  singular 
affection  towards  learning,  and  works  which  are  of  the  mind  more  than  of  the  hand.  For  there 
cannot  be  the  like  honour  sought  and  found,  in  building  of  galleries,1  and  planting  of  elms  along 
high-ways,  and  in  those  outward  ornaments,  wherein  France  is  now  so  busy,  things  rather  of  mag 
nificence  than  of  magnanimity,  as  there  is  in  the  uniting  of  states,3  pacifying  of  controversies,8 
nourishing  and  augmenting  of  learning  and  arts,  and  the  particular  actions  appertaining  to  these ; 
of  which  kind  Cicero  judged  truly,  when  he  said  to  Caesar,  'Quantum  operibus  tuis  detrahet  ve- 
tustas,  tantum  addet  laudibus.'  And  lastly,  I  call  to  mind,  that  your  lordship  at  some  times  hath 
been  pleased  to  express  unto  me  a  great  desire,  that  something  of  this  nature  should  be  performed  ; 
answerable  indeed  to  your  other  noble  and  worthy  courses  and  actions:  joining  and  adding  unto 
the  great  services  towards  his  majesty,  which  have,  in  small  compass  of  time,  been  performed  by 
your  lordship,  other  great  deservings  both  of  the  church  and  commonwealth,  and  particulars;  so 
as  the  opinion  of  so  great  and  wise  a  man  doth  seem  to  me  a  good  warrant  both  of  the  possibility 
and  worth  of  the  matter.  But  all  this  while  I  assure  myself,  I  cannot  be  mistaken  by  your  lordship, 
as  if  I  sought  an  office  or  employment  for  myself;  for  no  man  knows  better  than  your  lordship,  that 
if  there  were  in  me  any  faculty  thereunto,  yet  neither  my  course  of  life  nor  profession  would  per 
mit  it;  but  because  there  be  so  many  good  painters  both  Tor  hand  and  colours,  it  needeth  but  encou 
ragement  and  instructions  to  give  life  unto  it.  So  in  all  humbleness  I  conclude  my  presenting  unto 
your  lordship  this  wish ;  which,  if  it  perish,  it  is  but  a  loss  of  that  which  is  not.  And  so  craving 
pardon  that  I  have  taken  so  much  time  from  your  lordship,  I  remain — " 

The  next  letter  is 

"To  the  king,  upon  sending  unto  him  a  beginning  of  the  history  of  his  majesty's  times. 
"  It  may  please  your  majesty, 

"  Hearing  that  your  majesty  is  at  leisure  to  peruse  story,  a  desire  took  me  to  make  an  experiment 
what  I  could  do  in  your  majesty's  times,  which  being  but  a  leaf  or  two,  I  pray  your  pardon,  if  I 
send  it  for  your  recreation;  considering  that  love  must  creep  where  it  cannot  go.  But  to  these  I 
add  these  petitions :  First,  that  if  your  majesty  do  dislike  any  thing,  you  would  conceive  I  can 
amend  it  upon  your  least  beck.  Next,  that  if  I  have  not  spoken  of  your  majesty  encomiastically, 
your  majesty  would  be  pleased  only  to  ascribe  it  to  the  law  of  a  history ;  which  doth  not  cluster 
together  praises  upon  the  first  mention  of  a  name,  but  rather  disperseth  and  weaveth  them  through 
the  whole  narrative.  And  as  for  the  proper  place  of  commemoration,  which  is  in  the  period  of  life, 
I  pray  God  I  may  never  live  to  write  it.  Thirdly,  that  the  reason  why  I  presumed  to  think  of  this 
oblation,  was  because  whatsoever  my  disability  be,  yet  I  shall  have  that  advantage  which  almost 
no  writer  of  history  hath  had ;  in  that  I  shall  write  of  times  not  only  since  I  could  remember,  but 
since  I  could  observe.  And  lastly,  that  it  is  only  for  your  majesty's  reading." 

Of  this  tract,  Archbishop  Tenison  says,  "This  was  an  essay,  sent  to  King  James,  whose  times 
it  considered.  A  work  worthy  his  pen,  had  he  proceeded  in  it;  seeing  (as  he  saith)  he  should  have 
written  of  times,  not  only  since  he  could  remember,  but  since  he  could  observe ;  and  by  way  of 
introduction,  of  times,  as  he  further  noteth,  of  strange  variety;  the  reign  of  a  child  ;  the  offei  of 
usurpation  by  the  Lady  Jane,  though  it  were  but  as  a  diary  ague ;  the  reign  of  a  lady  married  to  a 
foreigner,  and  the  reign  of  a  lady  solitary  and  unmarried. 

"  His  lordship,  who  had  given  such  proof  of  his  skill  in  writing  a  History  of  England,  leaving  the 
world,  to  the  unspeakable  loss  of  the  learned  part  of  it;  his  late  majesty,  a  great  favourer  of  that  work, 
and  wise  in  the  choice  of  fit  workmen,  encouraged  Sir  Henry  Wotton  to  endeavour  it,  by  his  royal 
invitation,  and  a  pension  of  5007.  per  annum.  This  proposal  was  made  to  that  excellent  man,  in  his 
declining  years ;  and  he  died  after  the  finishing  some  short  characters  of  some  few  kings ;  which 
characters  are  published  in  his  Remains. 

1  "The  masnificent  gallery  at  the  Louvre  in  Paris,  built  by  Henry  IV." 

*  "The  union  of  England  and  Scotland." 

*  "The  conference  at  Hampton  Court  held  between  the  bishops  and  puritans  as  they  were  then  called,  soon  after  tbe 
kind's  coming  to  the  crown  of  England,  and  where  his  majesty  was  the  moderator."— Stephens. 

VOL.  I.— 36  2  A  2 


282  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

STATE    OF   EUROPE. 

This  tract  is  supposed  by  Mallet  to  have  been  the  first  work  written  by  Lord  Bacon,  and  to  have 
been  written  about  the  year  1580,  when  he  was  between  19  and  20  years  of  age: — because  it  states, 
"that  Henry  III.  of  France  was  then  30  years  old:  now  that  king  began  his  reign  in  1576,  at  the 
age  of  24  years,  so  that  Bacon  was  then  19."  How  far  this  evidence  is  satisfactory,  may  be  col 
lected  from  other  parts  of  the  same  tract.  It  says,  "  Gregory  XIII.  of  the  age  of  70  years :" — but 
Gregory  XIII.  was  70  years  old  in  the  year  1572,  when  he  was  elected  pope,  so  that  according  to 
this  reasoning,  it  might  be  inferred  that  it  was  written  when  Bacon  was  12  years  of  age.  In 
another  part  of  the  tract  it  states,  "The  King  of  Spain,  Philip,  son  to  Charles  the  Fifth,  about  60 
years  of  age:"  but  he  was  born  on  the  21st  of  May,  1527,  so  that  he  was  60  years  old  in  1587, 
when  Bacon  was  between  16  and  17  years  old. — The  author  of  Bacon's  Life  in  the  Biographia 
Britannica,  from  these  different  dates,  concludes  that  the  tract  was  written  at  different  periods  of 
time,  beginning,  as  he  must  suppose,  when  Bacon  was  quite  a  boy :  but,  as  it  was  not  necessary 
for  the  purposes  of  this  tract  that  the  ages  of  the  different  monarchs  should  be  ascertained  with 
great  precision,  it  is,  perhaps,  not  probable  that  they  were  accurately  examined,  and  the  only  fair 
Inference  is,  that  it  was  written  at  a  very  early  period  of  his  life.1 

The  same  author  says,  "  But  what  is  extremely  remarkable  in  this  small  treatise,  is  the  care  and 
accuracy  with  which  he  has  set  down  most  of  the  little  princes  in  Germany,  with  the  state  of  their 
dominions."  This  minute  observation,  however,  extends  to  all  his  works :  and  of  all  the  extraordi 
nary  properties  of  Bacon's  wonderful  mind,  his  constant  observation  of  what  we,  in  common  par 
lance,  call  trifles,  appears  to  be  one  of  the  most  extraordinary.  "  See,"  he  says,  "  the  little  cloud 
upon  glass  or  gems  or  blades  of  swords,  and  mark  well  the  discharge  of  that  cloud,  and  you  shall 
perceive  that  it  ever  breaks  up  first  in  the  skirts,  and  last  in  the  midst.  May  we  not  learn  from  this 
the  force  of  union  even  in  the  least  quantities  and  weakest  bodies,  how  much  it  conduceth  to  pre 
servation  of  the  present  form  and  the  resisting  of  a  new.  In  like  manner,  icicles,  if  there  be  water 
to  follow  them,  lengthen  themselves  out  in  a  very  slender  thread,  to  prevent  a  discontinuity  of  the 
water ;  but  if  there  be  not  a  sufficient  quantity  to  follow,  the  water  then  falls  in  round  drops,  which 
is  the  figure  that  best  supports  it  against  discontinuation ;  and  at  the  very  instant  when  the  thread 
of  water  ends,  and  the  falling  in  drops  begins,  the  water  recoils  upwards  to  avoid  being  discontinued. 
So  in  metals,  which  are  fluid  upon  fusion,  though  a  little  tenacious,  some  of  the  mettled  mass  fre 
quently  springs  up  in  drops,  and  sticks  in  that  form  to  the  sides  of  the  crucible.  There  is  a  like 
instance  in  the  looking-glasses,  commonly  made  of  spittle  by  children,  in  a  loop  of  rush  or  whale 
bone,  where  we  find  a  consistent  pellicle  of  water."  Possessing  this  peculiar  property  himself, 
Bacon  constantly  admonishes  his  readers  of  its  importance.  "The  eye  of  the  understanding,  (he 
says,)  is  like  the  eye  of  the  sense :  for  as  you  may  see  great  objects  through  small  crannies  or  levels, 
so  you  may  see  axioms  of  great  nature  through  small  and  contemptible  instances."  And  again,  "it 
should  be  considered  as  an  oracle,  the  saying  of  the  poor  woman  to  the  haughty  prince,  who  rejected 
her  petition  as  a  thing  below  his  dignity  to  notice — '  then  cease  to  reign ;'  for  it  is  certain,  that  who 
ever  will  not  attend  to  matters  because  they  are  too  minute  or  trifling,  shall  never  obtain  command 
or  rule  over  nature."  And  again,  "  he  who  cannot  contract  the  sight  of  his  mind  as  well  as  dis 
perse  and  dilate  it,  wanteth  a  great  faculty  :  for  certainly  this  may  be  averred  for  truth,  that  they  be 
not  the  highest  instances  that  give  the  best  and  surest  information.  This  is  not  unaptly  expressed 
in  the  tale,  so  common,  of  the  philosopher,  who  while  he  gazed  upward  to  the  stars  fell  into  the 
water ;  for  if  he  had  looked  down,  he  might  have  seen  the  stars  in  the  water,  but  looking  up  to 
heaver*  he  could  not  see  the  water  in  the  stars.  In  like  manner  it  often  comes  to  pass  that  small 
and  mean  things  conduce  more  to  the  discovery  of  great  matters,  than  great  things  to  the  dis 
covery  of  small  matters ;  and  therefore  Aristotle  notes  well,  that  the  nature  of  every  thing  is  best 
seen  in  its  smallest  portions.  For  that  cause  he  inquires  the  nature  of  a  commonwealth,  first  in  a 
family  and  the  simple  conjugations  of  society,  man  and  wife ;  parents  and  children ;  master  and 
servant,  which  are  in  every  cottage.  So  likewise  the  nature  of  this  great  city  of  the  world,  and  the 
policy  thereof,  must  be  sought  in  every  first  concordances  and  least  portions  of  things.  So  we  see 
that  secret  of  nature,  (esteemed  one  of  the  great  mysteries,)  of  the  turning  of  iron  touched  with  a 
loadstone  towards  the  poles,  was  found  out  in  needles  of  iron,  not  in  bars  of  iron." 

BIOGRAPHY. 

OF  the  importance  of  biography,  Bacon  speaks  in  his  Advancement  of  Learning;  concluding  his 
remarks  by  saying,  "Bona  fama  propria  possessio  defunctorum,"  which  possession  I  cannot  but 

1  "The  tract  says, '  D.  Antonio,  elect  King  of  Portugal,  is  now  in  France,  where  he  hath  levied  soldiers,  whereof  part  are 
embarked,  hoping  to  be  restored  again." 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  283 

note,  that  in  our  times  it  lieth  much  waste  and  that  therein  there  is  a  deficience.     This  deficience 
with  respect  to  Elizabeth  he  was  anxious  to  supply  by  the  publication  of  his  sentiments,  "  in  Feli- 
cem  Memoriam  Elizabethae  :"  but  this  publication  seems  to  have  required  some  caution,  and  to  have 
been  attended  with  some  difficulty.     In  1605,  Bacon  thus  spoke:  "But  for  a  tablet,  or  picture  of 
smaller  volume,  (not  presuming  to  speak  of  your  majesty  that  liveth,)  in  my  judgment  the  most 
excellent  is  that  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  your  immediate  predecessor  in  this  part  of  Britain  ;  a  princess 
that,  if  Plutarch  were  now  alive  to  write  lives  by  parallels,  would  trouble  him,  I  think,  to  find  for 
her  a  parallel  amongst  women.     This  lady  was  indued  with  learning  in  her  sex  singular,  and  rare 
even  amongst  masculine  princes  ;  whether  we  speak  of  learning,  language,  or  of  science,  modern, 
or  ancient,  divinity  or  humanity  :  and  unto  the  very  last  year  of  her  life  she  was  accustomed  to 
appoint  set  hours  for  reading;  scarcely  any  young  student  in  any  university  more  daily,  or  more 
duly.     As  for  her  government,  I  assure  myself,  I  shall  not  exceed,  if  I  do  affirm  that  this  part  of 
the  island  never  had  forty-five  years  of  better  times  ;  and  yet  not  through  the  calmness  of  the  season, 
but  through  the  wisdom  of  her  regimen.     For  if  there  be  considered  of  the  one  side,  the  truth  of 
religion  established,  the  constant  peace  and  security,  the  good  administration  of  justice,  the  temperate 
use  of  the  prerogative,  not  slackened,  nor  much  strained,  the  flourishing  state  of  learning,  sortable 
to  so  excellent  a  patroness,  the  convenient  estate  of  wealth  and  means,  both  of  crown  and  subject, 
the  habit  of  obedience,  and  the  moderation  of  discontents;  and  there  be  considered,  on  the  other 
side,  the  differences  of  religion,  the  troubles  of  neighbour  countries,  the  ambition  of  Spain,  and 
opposition  of  Rome:  and  then,  that  she  was  solitary  and  of  herself:  these  things,  I  say,  considered, 
as  I  could  not  have  chosen  an  instance  so  recent  and  so  proper,  so,  I  suppose,  I  could  not  have 
chosen  one  more  remarkable  or  eminent  to  the  purpose  now  in  hand,  which  is  concerning  the  con 
junction  of  learning  in  the  prince  with  felicity  in  the  people."     So  he  wrote  in  the  year  1605  ;  but, 
about  the  year  1612,  "The  king,"  says  Wilson,  "cast  his  thoughts  towards  Peterborough,  where 
his  mother  lay,  whom  he  caused  to  be  translated  to  a  magnificent  tomb,  at  Westminster.     And 
(somewhat  suitable  to  her  mind  when  she  was  living)  she  had  a  translucent  passage  in  the  night, 
through  the  city  of  London,  by  multitudes  of  torches  :  the  tapers  placed  by  the  tomb  and  the  altar, 
in  the  cathedral,  smoking  with  them  like  an  offertory,  with  all  the  ceremonies,  and  voices  their  quires 
and  copes  could  express,  attended  by  many  prelates  and  nobles,  who  paid  this  last  tribute  to  her 
memory."1     Before  this  time  Bacon  had  written  his  essay  "  in  Felicem  Memoriam  Elizabeths." 
which  he  sent  to  Sir  George  Carew,  whose  death  M.  De  Thou  laments,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Camden, 
in  the  year  1613.     The  following  is  the  letter  to  Sir  George  Carew.3     "  Being  asked  a  question  by 
this  bearer,  an  old  servant,  of  my  brother  Anthony  Bacon's,  whether  I  would  command  him  any 
thing  into  France;    and  being  at  better  leisure  than  I  would,  in  regard  of  sickness,  I  began  to 
remember  that  neither  your  business  nor  mine,  though  great  and  continual,  can  be,  upon  an  exact 
account,  any  just  occasion  why  so  much  good-will  as  hath  passed  between  us  should  be  so  much 
discontinued  as  it  hath  been.     And  therefore,  because  one  must  begin,  I  thought  to  provoke  your 
remembrance  of  me  by  a  letter  :  and  thinking  to  fill  it  with  somewhat  besides  salutations,  it  came 
to  my  mind,  that  this  last  summer  vacation,  by  occasion  of  a  factious  book  that  endeavoured  to  verify 
Misera  Foemina,  the  addition  of  the  pope's  bull,  upon  Queen  Elizabeth,  I  did  write  a  few  lines  in 
her  memorial,  which  I  thought  you  would  be  pleased  to  read,  both  for  the  argument,  and  because 
you  were  wont  to  bear  affection  to  my  pen.     '  Verum,  ut  aliud  ex  alio,'  if  it  came  handsomely  to 
pass,  I  would  be  glad  the  president  De  Thou,  who  hath  written  a  history,  as  you  know,  of  that 
fame  and  diligence,  saw  it;  chiefly  because  I  know  not  whether  it  may  not  serve  him  for  some  use 
in  his  story;  wherein  I  would  be  glad  he  did  write  to  the  truth,  and  to  the  memory  of  that  lady,  as 
I  perceive  by  that  he  hath  already  written  he  is  well  inclined  to  do.     I  would  be  glad  also,  it  were 
some  occasion,  such  as  absence  may  permit,  of  some  acquaintance  or  mutual  notice  between  us. 
For  though  he  hath  many  ways  the  precedence,  chiefly  in  worth,  yet  this  is  common  to  us  both, 
that  we  serve  our  sovereigns  in  places  of  law  eminent  :  and  not  ourselves  only,  but  that  our  fathers 
did  so  before  us.     And  lastly,  that  both  of  us  love  learning  and  liberal  sciences,  which  was  ever  a 
bond  of  friendship  in  the  greatest  distance  of  places.     But  of  this  I  make  no  farther  request,  than 
your  own  occasions  and  respects,  to  me  known,  may  further  or  limit;  my  principal  purpose  being 
to  salute  you,  and  to  send  you  this  token  :  whereunto  I  will  add  my  very  kind  commendations  to 
my  lady  ;  and  so  commit  you  both  to  God's  holy  protection." 

It  seems  probable  that  this  tract  was  intended  for  publication  during  the  life  of  the  king.     It  says, 


*  "  Sir  George  Carew,  of  Cornwall,  was  Master  in  Chancery  in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  and  in  1597  sent  ambassadoi 
into  Poland;  and  in  1606  went  to  the  court  of  France  with  the  like  character.  After  about  three  years  continuance,  he  was 
recalled  by  the  king  to  make  use  of  his  services  at  home  :  but  he  survived  not  many  years.  M.  De  Thou,  in  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Camden  In  1613,  very  much  laments  his  death;  as  losing  a  friend  he  much  valued,  and  an  assistant  in  the  prosecution  of  his 
history  :  having  received  helps  from  him  in  that  part  which  relates  to  the  dissensions  between  the  Poles  and  the  Swedes  in 
the  year  1598,  as  appears  before  the  contents  of  book  cxxi."—  Stephens. 


284  EDITOR  S  PREFACE. 

"  Restant  felicitates  posthumae  duae,  iis  quae  vivam  comitabantur  fere  celsiores  et  augustiores  :  una 
successoris,  altera  memoriae.  Nam  successorem  sortita  est  eum,  qui  licet  et  mascula  virtute  et 
prole,  et  nova  imperil  accessions  fastigium  ejus  excedat  et  obumbret;  tamen  et  nomini  et  honoribus 
ems  faveat,  et  actis  ejus  quandam  perpetuitatem  donet:  cum  nee  ex  personamm  delectu,  nee  ex 
institutorum  ordine,  quicquam  magnopere  mutaverit :  adeo  ut  raro  films  parenti,  tanto  silentio,  alquae 
tarn  exigua  mutatione  et  perturbatione  successerit."  But  it  was  not  published  during  the  life  of  the 


passage 

foreigner:  then  of  a  queen  that  lived  solitary  and  unmarried,  and  yet  her  government  so  masculine 
that  It  had  greater  impression  and  operation  upon  the  states  abroad  than  it  any  ways  received  from 
thence;"  merely  saying,  '  Rursus  regnum  fceminse  solitaries  et  ccelibis."  Whatever  were  the 
motives  by  which  he  was  induced  to  suppress,  for  a  time,  the  just  praise  of  Elizabeth,  he  ordered 
the  publication  in  a  will,  which  he  afterwards  cancelled,  but,  in  all  probability,  after  some  under 
standing  with  Dr.  Rawley,  that  the  publication  should  appear,  as  it  did,  soon  after  his  death.  This 
appears  from  Rawley's  account.1  "I  thought  it  fitting  to  intimate,  that  the  discourse,  within  con 
tained,  entitled,  A  Collection  of  the  Felicities  of  Queen  Elizabeth;  was  written  by  his  lordship  in 
Latin  only,  whereof,  though  his  lordship  had  his  particular  ends  then ;  yet  in  regard  that  I  held  it  a 
duty,  that  her  own  nation,  over  which  she  so  happily  reigned  for  many  years,  should  be  acquainted 
and  possessed  with  the  virtues  of  that  excellent  queen,  as  well  as  foreign  nations,  I  was  induced, 
many  years  ago,  to  put  the  same  into  the  English  tongue;  not  'ad  verbum,'  for  that  had  been  but 
flat  and  injudicious;  but,  (as  far  as  my  slender  ability  could  reach,)  according  to  the  expressions 
which  I  conceived  his  lordship  would  have  rendered  it  in,  if  he  had  written  the  same  in  English : 
yet  ever  acknowledging  that  Zeuxis,  or  Apelles'  pencil  could  not  be  attained,  but  by  Zeuxis,  or 
Apelles  himself.  This  work,  in  the  Latin,  his  lordship  so  much  affected,  that  he  had  ordained,  by 
his  last  will  and  testament,  to  have  had  it  published  many  years  since :  but  that  singular  person 
intrusted  therewith,  soon  after  deceased.  And  therefore  it  must  now  expect  a  time  to  come  forth 
amongst  his 'lordship's  other  Latin  works."  And  Archbishop  Tenison  says,  "the  third  is,  a  me 
morial,  entitled  The  Felicities  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  This  was  written  by  his  lordship  in  Latin  only. 
A  person  of  more  good  will  than  ability,  translated  it  into  English,  and  called  it  in  the  singular, 
Her  Felicity.  But  we  have  also  a  version,  much  more  accurate  and  judicious,  performed  by  Doctor 
Rawley,  who  was  pleased  to  take  that  labour  upon  him,  because  he  understood  the  value  his  lordship 
put  upon  this  work;  for  it  was  such,  that  I  find  this  charge  given  concerning  it,  in  his  last  will  and 
testament.  '  In  particular,  I  wish  the  eulogy  which  I  writ,  in  Felicem  Memoriam  Elizabethan,  may 
be  published.' " 

LIVES    OF     THE  C7ESARS. 

Of  these  tracts  Tenison  says,  "  The  fifth  is,  '  the  Imago  Civilis  Julii  Caesaris.'  The  sixth,  '  Imago 
Civilis  Augusti  Caesaris.'  Both  of  them  short  personal  characters,  and  not  histories  of  their  empire  : 
and  written  by  his  lordship  in  that  tongue,  which  in  their  time  was  at  its  height,  and  became  the 
lano-uao-e  of  the  world.  A  while  since,  they  were  translated  into  English,  and  inserted  into  the  first 
part  of  the  Resuscitation." 

In  the  few  lines  upon  the  character  of  Augustus  Caesar,  there  is  a  maxim  well  deserving  the  deep 
consideration  of  every  young  man  of  sensibility,  apt  to  be 

Misled  by  fancy's  meteor  ray, 

By  passion  driven  : 
And  yet  the  light  that  leads  astray, 

Is  light  from  heaven. 

Bacon  says,  "  Those  persons  which  are  of  a  turbulent  nature  or  appetite,  do  commonly  pass  their 
youth  in  many  errors  ;  and  about  their  middle,  and  then  and  not  before,  they  show  forth  their  perfec 
tions  ;  but  those  that  are  of  a  sedate  and  calm  nature,  may  be  ripe  for  great  and  glorious  actions  ir 
their  youth."  The  very  same  sentiment  which  he  expresses  in  his  Essay  on  Youth  and  Age  :  "  Na 
tures  that  have  much  heat,  and  great  and  violent  desires  and  perturbations,  are  not  ripe  for  action 
till  they  have  passed  the  meridian  of  their  years  ;  as  it  was  with  Julius  Caesar  and  Septimus 
Severus  ;  of  the  latter  of  whom  it  is  said,  '  Juventutem  egit,  erroribus,  imo  furoribus  plenarn  ;'  and 
yet  he  was  the  ablest  emperor,  almost,  of  all  the  list:  but  reposed  natures  may  do  well  in  youth,  as 
it  is  seen  in  Augustus  Caesar,  Cosmus  Duke  of  Florence,  Gaston  de  Foix,  and  others." 

HENRY  PRINCE  OF   WALES. 

I  have  selected  this  piece  of  biography  from  the  letters,  and  restored  it  to  what  appears  to  me  to 
be  its  proper  place.  Of  this  a  MS.  may  be  found  in  the  British  Museum. 

1  Preface  to  the  Resuscitatio. 


THE 


WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


THE  PREFACE. 

THE  antiquities  of  the  first  age  (except  those  we  find  in  sacred  writ)  were  buried  in  oblivion  and 
silence;  silence  was  succeeded  by  poetical  fables  :  and  fables  again  were  followed  by  the  records  we 
now  enjoy:  so  that  the  mysteries  and  secrets  of  antiquity  were  distinguished  and  separated  from  the 
records  and  evidences  of  succeeding  times,  by  the  veil  of  fiction,  which  interposed  itself,  and  came  be 
tween  those  things  which  perished  and  those  which  are  extant.  I  suppose  some  are  of  opinion- that 
my  purpose  is  to  write  toys  and  trifles,  and  to  usurp  the  same  liberty  in  applying,  that  the  poets  as 
sumed  in  feigning,  wThich  I  might  do  (confess)  if  I  listed,  and  with  more  serious  contemplation  inter 
mix  these  things,  to  delight  either  myself  in  meditation,  or  others  in  reading.  Neither  am  I  ignorant 
how  fickle  and  inconstant  a  thing  fiction  is,  as  being  subject  to  be  drawn  and  wrested  any  way,  and 
how  great  the  commodity  of  wit  and  discourse  is,  that  is  able  to  apply  things  well,  yet  so  as  never 
meant  by  the  first  authors.  But  I  remember  that  this  liberty  hath  been  lately  much  abused,  in  that 
many,  to  purchase  the  reverence  of  antiquity  to  their  own  inventions  and  fancies,  have  for  the  same 
intent  laboured  to  wrest  many  poetical  fables ;  neither  hath  this  old  and  common  vanity  been  used  only 
of  late,  or  now  and  then :  for  even  Chrysippus  long  ago  did,  as  an  interpreter  of  dreams,  ascribe  the 
opinions  of  the  Stoics  to  the  ancient  poets :  and  more  sottishly  do  the  chymists  appropriate  the  fancies 
and  delights  of  poets  in  the  transformations  of  bodies  to  the  experiments  of  their  furnace.  All  these 
things,  I  say,  I  have  sufficiently  considered  and  weighed  :  and  in  them  have  seen  and  noted  the 
general  levity  and  indulgence  of  men's  wits  above  allegories;  and  yet  for  all  this,  I  relinquish  not 
my  opinion. 

For,  first,  it  may  not  be  that  the  folly  and  looseness  of  a  few  should  altogether  detract  from  the  re 
spect  due  to  the  parables ;  for  that  were  a  conceit  which  might  savour  of  profaneness  and  presump 
tion:  for  religion  itself  doth  sometimes  delight  in  such  veils  and  shadows;  so  that  whoso  exempts 
them,  seems  in  a  manner  to  interdict  all  commerce  between  things  divine  and  human.  But  concern 
ing  human  wisdom,  I  do  indeed  ingenuously  and  freely  confess,  that  I  am  inclined  to  imagine,  that 
under  some  of  the  ancient  fictions  lay  couched  certain  mysteries  and  allegories,  even  from  their  first 
invention  ;  and  I  am  persuaded,  whether  ravished  with  the  reverence  of  antiquity,  or  because  in  some 
fables  I  find  such  singular  proportion  between  the  similitude  and  the  thing  signified,  and  such  apt  and 
clear  coherence  in  the  very  structure  of  them,  and  propriety  of  names  wherewith  the  persons  or  actors 
in  them  are  ascribed  and  intituled,  that  no  man  can  constantly  deny  but  this  sense  was  in  the  author's 
intent  and  meaning,  when  they  first  invented  them,  and  that  they  purposely  shadowed  it  in  this  sort : 
for  who  can  be  so  stupid  and  blind  in  the  open  light,  as  (when  he  hears  how  Fame,  after  the  giants 
were  destroyed,  sprang  upas  their  younger  sister)  not  to  refer  it  to  the  murmurs  and  seditious  reports 
of  both  sides,  which  are  wont  to  fly  abroad  for  a  time  after  the  suppressing  of  insurrections  ?  Or  when 
he  hears  how  the  giant  Typhon,  having  cut  out  and  brought  away  Jupiter's  nerves,  which  Mercury  stole 
from  him  and  restored  again  to  Jupiter,  doth  not  presently  perceive  how  fitly  it  may  be  applied  to  power 
ful  rebellions,  which  take  from  princes  their  sinews  of  money  and  authority:  but  so  that  by  affability 
of  speech  and  wise  edicts  (the  minds  of  their  subjects  being  in  time  privily,  and  as  it  were  by  stealth 
reconciled)  they  recover  their  strength  again1?  Or  when  he  hears  how,  in  that  memorable  expedition 
of  the  gods  against  the  giants,  the  braying  of  Silenus's  ass  conduced  much  to  the  profligation  of  the 
giants,  doth  not  confidently  imagine  that  it  was  invented  to  show  how  the  greatest  enterprises  of  rebels 
are  oftentimes  dispersed  with  vain  rumours  and  fears. 

Moreover,  to  what  judgments  can  the  conformity  and  signification  of  names  seem  obscure1?  See 
ing  Metis,  the  wife  of  Jupiter  doth  plainly  signify  counsel :  Typhon,  insurrection  :  Pan,  universality  : 
Nemesis,  revenge  :  and  the  like.  Neither  let  it  trouble  any  man,  if  sometimes  he  meet  with  histori 
cal  narrations,  or  additions  for  ornament's  sake,  or  confusion  of  times,  or  something  transferred  from 

285 


286  PREFACE. 

one  fable  to  another,  to  bring  in  a  new  allegory ;  for  it  could  be  no  otherwise,  seeing  they  were  the 
inventions  of  men  which  lived  in  divers  ages,  and  had  also  divers  ends,  some  being  ancient,  others 
neoterical;  some  have  an  eye  to  things  natural,  others  to  moral. 

There  is  another  argument,  and  that  no  small  one  neither,  to  prove  that  these  fables  contain  certain 
hidden  and  involved  meanings,  seeing  some  of  them  are  observed  to  be  so  absurd  and  foolish  in  the 
very  relation  that  they  show,  and,  as  it  were,  proclaim  a  parable  afar  off;  for  such  tales  as  are 
probable  they  may  seem  to  be  invented  for  delight  and  in  imitation  of  history.  And  as  for  such  as 
no  man  would  so  much  as  imagine  or  relate,  they  seem  to  be  sought  out  for  other  ends:  for  what 
kind  of  fiction  is  that  wherein  Jupiter  is  said  to  have  taken  Metis  to  wife,  and  perceiving  that  she 
was  with  child,  to  have  devoured  her,  whence  himself  conceiving,  brought  forth  Pallas  armed  out 
of  his  head  ?  Truly,  I  think  there  was  never  dream,  so  different  to  the  course  of  cogitation,  and  so 
full  of  monstrosity,  ever  hatched  in  the  brain  of  man.  Above  all  things  this  prevails  most  with  me, 
and  is  of  singular  moment;  many  of  these  fables  seem  not  to  be  invented  of  those  by  whom  they 
are  related  and  celebrated,  as  by  Horncr,  Hesiod,  and  others:  for  if  it  were  so,  that  they  took  begin 
ning  in  that  age,  and  from  those  authors  by  whom  they  are  delivered  and  brought  to  our  hands,  my 
mind  gives  me  there  could  be  no  great  or  high  matter  expected,  or  supposed  to  proceed  from  them  in 
respect  of  these  originals.  But  if  with  attention  we  consider  the  matter,  it  will  appear  that  they 
were  delivered  and  related  as  things  formerly  believed  and  received,  and  not  as  newly  invented  and 
offered  unto  us.  Besides,  seeing  they  are  diversely  related  by  writers  that  lived  near  about  one  and 
the  selfsame  time,  we  may  easily  perceive  that  they  were  common  things  derived  from  precedent 
memorials;  and  that  they  became  various  by  reason  of  the  divers  ornaments  bestowed  on  them  by 
particular  relations;  and  the  consideration  of  this  must  needs  increase  in  us  a  great  opinion  of  them, 
as  not  to  be  accounted  either  the  effects  of  the  times,  or  inventions  of  the  poets,  but  as  sacred  relics  or 
abstracted  airs  of  better  times,  which,  by  tradition  from  more  ancient  nations,  fell  into  the  trumpets 
and  flutes  of  the  Grecians.  But  if  any  do  obstinately  contend,  that  allegories  are  always  adventiti- 
ally,  and  as  it  were  by  constraint,  never  naturally  and  properly  included  in  fables,  we  will  not  be 
much  troublesome,  but  suffer  them  to  enjoy  that  gravity  of  judgment  which  I  am  sure  they  affect, 
although  indeed  it  be  but  lumpish  and  almost  leaden.  And,  if  they  be  worthy  to  be  taken  notice  of, 
we  will  begin  afresh  with  them  in  some  other  fashion. 

There  is  found  among  men,  and  it  goes  for  current,  a  twofold  use  of  parables,  and  those,  which  is 
more  to  be  admired,  referred  to  contrary  ends,  conducing  as  well  to  the  folding  up  and  keeping  of 
things  under  a  veil,  as  to  the  enlightening  arid  laying  open  of  obscurities.  But,  omitting  the  former, 
rather  than  to  undergo  wrangling,  and  assuming  ancient  fables  as  things  vagrant  and  composed  only 
for  delight,  the  latter  must  questionless  till  remain  as  not  to  be  wrested  from  us  by  any  violence  of 
wit,  neither  can  any  (that  is  but  meanly  learned)  hinder,  but.  it  must  absolutely  be  received  as  a  thing 
grave  and  sober,  free  from  all  vanity,  and  exceeding  profitable  and  necessary  to  all  sciences.  This 
is  it,  I  say,  that  leads  the  understanding  of  man  by  an  easy  and  gentle  passage  through  all  novel 
and  abstruse  inventions  which  any  way  differ  from  common  received  opinions.  Therefore,  in  the 
first  ages,  (when  many  human  inventions  and  conclusions,  which  are  now  common  and  vulgar,  were 
new,  and  not  generally  known,)  all  things  were  full  of  fables,  enigmas,  parables,  and  similes  of  all 
sorts;  by  which  they  sought  to  teach  and  lay  open,  not  to  hide  and  conceal  knowledge,  especially 
seeing  the  understandings  of  men  were  in  those  times  rude  and  impatient,  and  almost  incapable  of 
any  subtilties,  such  things  only  excepted  as  were  the  objects  of  sense;  for,  as  hieroglyphics  pre 
ceded  letters,  so  parables  were  more  ancient  than  arguments :  and  in  these  days  also,  he  that  would 
illuminate  men's  minds  anew  in  any  old  matter,  and  that  not  with  disprofit  and  harshness,  must 
absolutely  take  the  same  course,  and  use  the  help  of  similes.  Wherefore  after  all  that  hath  been 
said,  we  will  thus  conclude,  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients,  it  was  either  much  or  happy:  much,  if 
these  figures  and  tropes  were  invented  by  study  and  premeditation ;  happy,  if  they,  intending  nothing 
less,  gave  matter  and  occasion  to  so  many  worthy  meditations.  As  concerning  my  labours,  if  there 
be  any  thing  in  them  which  may  do  good,  I  will  on  neither  part  count  them  ill  bestowed,  my  purpose 
being  to  illustrate  either  antiquity  or  things  themselves.  Neither  am  I  ignorant  that  this  very  sub 
ject  hath  been  attempted  by  others  :  but  to  speak  as  I  think,  and  that  freely,  without  ostentation,  the" 
dignity  and  efficacy  of  the  thing,  is  almost  lost  by  these  men's  writings,  though  voluminous  and  full 
of  pains,  whilst  not  diving  into  the  depth  of  matters,  but  skilful  only  in  certain  commonplaces, 
have  applied  the  sense  of  these  parables  to  certain  vulgar  and  general  things,  not  so  much  as  glanc 
ing  at  their  true  virtue,  genuine  propriety,  and  full  depth.  I,  if  I  be  not  deceived,  shall  be  new  in 
common  things;  wherefore,  leaving  such  as  are  plain  and  open,  I  will  aim  at  further  and  richer 
matters. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


CASSANDRA,  OR  DIVINATION. 

THE  poets  fable,  that  Apollo  being  enamoured 
of  Cassandra,  was,  by  her  many  shifts  and  cun 
ning  sleights,  still  deluded  in  his  desire ;  but  yet 
fed  on  with  hope  until  such  time  as  she  had  drawn 
from  him  the  gift  of  prophesying  ;  and  having  by 
such  her  dissimulation,  in  the  end  attained  to  that 
which  from  the  beginning  she  sought  after,  at  last 
flatly  rejected  his  suit:  who,  finding  himself  so 
far  engaged  in  his  promise,  as  that  he  could  not 
by  any  means  revoke  again  his  rash  gift,  and  yet 
inflamed  with  an  earnest  desire  of  revenge,  highly 
disdaining  to  be  made  the  scorn  of  a  crafty  wench, 
annexed  a  penalty  to  his  promise,  to  wit,  that  she 
should  ever  foretell  the  truth,  but  never  be  believed; 
so  were  her  divinations  always  faithful,  but  at  no 
time  regarded,  whereof  she  still  found  the  expe 
rience,  yea,  even  in  the  ruin  of  her  own  country, 
which  she  had  often  forewarned  them  of,  but  they 
neither  gave  credit  nor  ear  to  her  words. 

This  fable  seems  to  intimate  the  unprofitable 
liberty  of  untimely  admonitions  and  counsels  :  for 
they  that  are  so  overweened  with  the  sharpness 
•and  dexterity  of  their  own  wit  and  capacity,  as 
that  they  disdain  to  submit  themselves  to  the  docu 
ments  of  Apollo,  the  god  of  harmony,  whereby  to 
learn  and  observe  the  method  and  measure  of  af 
fairs,  the  grace  and  gravity  of  discourse,  the  differ 
ences  between  the  more  judicious  and  more  vulgar 
ears,  and  the  due  times  when  to  speak  and  when  to 
be  silent;  be  they  never  so  sensible  and  pregnant, 
and  their  judgments  never  so  profound  and  profit 
able,  yet  in  all  their  endeavours  either  of  persuasion 
or  perforce,  they  avail  nothing ;  neither  are  they  of 
any  moment  to  advantage  or  manage  matters,  but 
do  rather  hasten  on  the  ruin  of  all  those  that  they 
adhere  or  devote  themselves  unto;  and  then,  at 
last,  when  calamity  hath  made  men  feel  the  event 
of  neglect,  then  shall  they,  too  late,  be  reverenced 
as  deep  foreseeing  and  faithful  prophets  :  whereof 
a  notable  instance  is  eminently  set  forth  in  Marcus 
Cato  Uticensis,  who,  as  from  a  watch-tower,  dis 
covered  afar  off,  and  as  an  oracle  long  foretold,  the 
approaching  ruin  of  his  country,  and  the  plotted 
tyranny  hovering  over  the  state,  both  in  the  first 
conspiracy,  and  as  it  was  prosecuted  in  the  civil 
contention  between  Caesar  and  Pompey,  and  did 
no  good  the  while,  but  rather  harmed  the  com 
monwealth  and  hastened  on  his  country's  bane  ; 
which  M.  Cicero  wisely  observed, and  writing  to 
a  familiar  friend,  doth  in  these  terms  excellently 


describe,  "  Cato  optime  sentit,  sed  nocet  interdum 
Reipublicse  :  loquitur  enim  tanquam  in  Republica 
Platonis,  non  tanquam  in  faece  Romuli."  Cato 
(saith  he)  judgeth  profoundly,  but  in  the  mean 
time  damnifies  the  state,  for  he  speaks  as  in  the 
commonwealth  of  Plato,  and  not  as  in  the  dregs 
of  Romulus. 

TYPHON,  OR  A  REBEL. 

JUNO,  being  vexed  (say  the  poets)  that  Jupiter 
had  begotten  Pallas  by  himself  without  her,  ear 
nestly  pressed  all  the  other  gods  and  goddesses,that 
she  might  also  bring  forth  of  herself  alone  without 
him ;  and  having  by  violence  and  importunity  ob 
tained  a  grant  thereof,  she  smote  the  earth,  and 
forthwith  sprang  up  Typhon,  a  huge  and  horrid 
monster.  This  strange  birth  she  commits  to  a 
serpent,  as  a  foster-father,  to  nourish  it ;  who  no 
sooner  came  to  ripeness  of  years  but  he  provokes 
Jupiter  to  battle.  In  the  conflict,  the  giant,  get 
ting  the  upper  hand,  takes  Jupiter  upon  his  shoul 
ders,  carries  him  into  a  remote  and  obscure  coun 
try,  and  (cutting  out  the  sinews  of  his  hands  and 
feet)  brought  them  away,  and  so  left  him  miserably 
mangled  and  maimed ;  but  Mercury  recovering 
these  nerves  from  Typhon  by  stealth,  restored 
them  again  to  Jupiter.  Jupiter  being  again  by 
this  means  corroborated,  assaults  the  monster 
afresh,  and  at  the  first  strikes  him  with  a  thunder 
bolt,  from  whose  blood  serpents  were  engendered. 
This  monster  at  length  fainting  and  flying,  Jupiter 
casts  on  him  the  mount  ^Etna,  and  with  the 
weight  thereof  crushed  him. 

This  fable  seems  to  point  at  the  variable  fortune 
of  princes,  and  the  rebellious  insurrection  of  trai 
tors  in  state.  For  princes  may  well  be  said  to  be 
married  to  their  dominions,  as  Jupiter  was  to 
Juno ;  but  it  happens  now  and  then,  that  being 
deboshed  by  the  long  custom  of  empiring  and 
bending  towards  tyranny,  they  endeavour  to  draw 
all  to  themselves,  and,  contemning  the  counsel 
of  their  nobles  and  senators,  hatch  laws  in  their 
own  brain,  that  is,  dispose  of  things  by  their  own 
fancy  and  absolute  power.  The  people,  repining 
at  this,  study  how  to  create  and  set  up  a  chief  of 
their  own  choice.  This  project,  by  the  secret 
instigation  of  the  peers  and  nobles,  doth  for  the 
most  part  take  his  beginning ;  by  whose  con 
nivance  the  commons  being  set  on  edge,  there  fol 
lows  a  kind  of  murmuring  or  discontent  in  the 
state,  shadowed  by  the  infancy  of  Typhon,  which 

287 


288 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


being  nursed  by  the  natural  pravity,  and  clownish 
malignity  of  the  vulgar  sort,  (unto  princes  as  in- 
festuous  as  serpents,)  is  again  repaired  by  renewed 
strength,  and  at  last  breaks  out  into  open  rebellion, 
which,  because  it  brings  infinite  mischiefs  upon 
prince  and  people,  is  represented  by  the  monstrous 
deformity  of  Typhon :  his  hundred  heads  signify 
their  divided  powers,  his  fiery  mouths  their  in 
flamed  intents,  his  serpentine  circles  their  pesti 
lent  malice  in  besieging,  his  iron  hands  their  mer 
ciless  slaughters,  his  eagle's  talons  their  greedy 
rapines,  his  plumed  body  their  continual  rumours, 
and  scouts,  and  fears,  and  suchlike ;  and  some 
times  these  rebellions  grow  so  potent,  that  princes 
are  enforced  (transported  as  it  were  by  the  rebels, 
and  forsaking  the  chief  seats  and  cities  of  the 
kingdom)  to  contract  their  power,  and,  being  de 
prived  of  the  sinews  of  money  and  majesty,  be 
take  themselves  to  some  remote  and  obscure  cor 
ner  within  their  dominions  ;  but  in  process  of 
time,  if  they  bear  their  misfortunes  with  modera 
tion,  they  may  recover  their  strength  by  the  virtue 
and  industry  of  Mercury,  that  is,  they  may,  by  be 
coming  affable,  and  by  reconciling  the  minds  and 
wills  of  their  subjects  with  grave  edicts  and  gra 
cious  speech,  excite  an  alacrity  to  grant  aids  and 
subsidies  whereby  to  strengthen  their  authority 
anew.  Nevertheless,  having  learned  to  be  wise 
and  wary,  they  will  refrain  to  try  the  chance  of 
fortune  by  war,  and  yet  study  how  to  suppress 
the  reputation  of  the  rebels  by  some  famous 
action,  which  if  it  fall  out  answerable  to  their 
expectation,  the  rebels,  finding  themselves  weak 
ened,  and  fearing  the  success  of  their  broken 
projects,  betake  themselves  to  some  sleight  and 
vain  bravadoes  like  the  hissing  of  serpents,  and 
at  length  in  despair  betake  themselves  to  flight, 
and  then  when  they  begin  to  break,  it  is  safe  and 
timely  for  kings  to  pursue  and  oppress  them  with 
the  forces  and  weight  of  the  kingdom,  as  it  were 
with  the  mountain  ./Etna. 


THE   CYCLOPS,   OR  THE  MINISTERS 
OF    TERROR. 

THEY  say  the  Cyclops,  for  their  fierceness  and 
cruelty,  were  by  Jupiter  cast  into  hell,  and  there 
doomed  to  perpetual  imprisonment;  but  Tellus 
persuaded  Jupiter  that  it  would  do  well,  if  being 
set  at  liberty,  they  were  put  to  forge  thunderbolts, 
which  being  done  accordingly,  they  became  so 
painful  and  industrious,  as  that  day  and  night  they 
continued  hammering  out  in  laborious  diligence 
thunderbolts  and  other  instruments  of  terror.  In 
process  of  time  Jupiter  having  conceived  a  dis 
pleasure  against  jEsculapius,  the  son  of  Apollo, 
for  restoring  a  dead  man  to  life  by  physic,  and 
concealing  his  dislike  because  there  was  no  just 
cause  of  anger,  the  deed  being  pious  and  famous, 
secretly  incensed  the  Cyclops  against  him,  who 
without  delay  slew  him  with  a  thunderbolt ;  in 


revenge  of  which  act,  Apollo,  Jupiter  not  prohibit 
ing  it,  shot  them  to  death  with  his  arrows. 

This  fable  may  be  applied  to  the  projects  of 
kings,  who  having  cruel,  bloody,  and  exacting 
officers,  do  first  punish  and  displace  them ;  after 
wards,  by  the  counsel  of  Tellus,  that  is  of  some 
base  and  ignoble  person,  and  by  the  prevailing 
respect  of  profit,  they  admit  them  into  their  places 
again,  that  they  may  have  instruments  in  a  readi 
ness,  if  at  any  time  there  should  need  either 
severity  of  execution  or  accerbity  of  exaction. 
These  servile  creatures  being  by  nature  cruel, 
and  by  their  former  fortune  exasperated,  and  per 
ceiving  well  what  is  expected  at  their  hands,  do 
show  themselves  wonderful  officious  in  such  kind 
of  employments ;  but  being  too  rash  and  precipi 
tate  in  seeking  countenance  and  creeping  into 
favour,  do  sometimes  take  occasion,  from  the 
secret  beckonings  and  ambiguous  commands  of 
their  prince,  to  perform  some  hateful  execution. 
But  princes  abhorring  the  fact,  and  knowing  well 
that  they  shall  never  want  such  kind  of  instru 
ments,  do  utterly  forsake  them,  turning  them 
over  to  the  friends  and  allies  of  the  wronged,  to 
their  accusations  and  revenge,  and  to  the  general 
hatred  of  the  people ;  so  that  with  great  applause 
and  prosperous  wishes  and  acclamations  towards 
the  prince,  they  are  brought  rather  too  late  than 
undeservedly  to  a  miserable  end. 

NARCISSUS,  OR  SELF-LOVE. 

THEY  say  that  Narcissus  was  exceeding  fair 
and  beautiful,  but  wonderful  proud  and  disdain 
ful;  wherefore  despising  all  others  in  respect  of 
himself,  he  leads  a  solitary  life  in  the  woods  and 
chases  with  a  few  followers,  to  whom  he  alone 
was  all  in  all ;  amongst  the  rest  there  follows  him 
the  nymph  Echo.  During  his  course  of  life,  it 
fatally  so  chanced  that  he  came  to  a  clear  foun 
tain,  upon  the  bank  whereof  he  lay  down  to  re 
pose  himself  in  the  heat  of  the  day;  and  having 
espied  the  shadow  of  his  own  face  in  the  water, 
was  so  besotted  and  ravished  with  the  contem 
plation  and  admiration  thereof,  that  he  by  no 
means  possibly  could  be  drawn  from  beholding 
his  image  in  this  glass;  insomuch,  that  by  con 
tinual  gazing  thereupon,  he  pined  away  to  nothing, 
and  was  at  last  turned  into  a  flower  of  his  own 
name,  which  appears  in  the  beginning  of  the 
spring,  and  is  sacred  to  the  infernal  powers, 
Pluto,  Proserpina,  and  the  Furies. 

This  fable  seems  to  show  the  dispositions  and 
fortunes  of  those,  who  in  respect  either  of  their 
beauty  or  other  gift  wherewith  they  are  adorned 
and  graced  by  nature,  without  the  help  of  indus 
try,  are  so  far  besotted  in  themselves  as  that  they 
prove  the  cause  of  their  own  destruction.  For  it 
is  the  property  of  men  infected  with  this  humour 
not  to  come  much  abroad,  or  to  be  conversant  in 
civil  affairs;  specially  seeing  those  that  are  in 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


289 


public  place  must  of  necessity  encounter  with 
many  contempts  and  scorns  which  may  much 
deject  and  trouble  their  minds;  and  therefore 
they  lead  for  the  most  part  a  solitary,  private,  and 
obscure  life,  attended  on  with  a  few  followers, 
and  those  such  as  will  adoje  and  admire  them, 
like  an  echo,  flatter  them  in  all  their  sayings,  and 
applaud  them  in  all  their  words ;  so  that  being 
by  this  custom  seduced  and  puffed  up,  and  as  it 
were  stupified  with  the  admiration  of  themselves, 
they  are  possessed  with  so  strange  a  sloth  and 
idleness,  that,  they  grow  in  a  manner  benumbed 
and  defective  of  all  vigour  and  alacrity.  Ele 
gantly  doth  this  flower,  appearing  in  the  begin 
ning  of  the  spring,  represent  the  likeness  of  these 
men's  dispositions,  who  in  their  youth  do  flourish 
and  wax  famous ;  but  being  come  to  ripeness  of 
years,  they  deceive  and  frustrate  the  good  hope 
that  is  conceived  of  them.  Neither  is  it  imper 
tinent  that  this  flower  is  said  to  be  consecrated  to 
the  infernal  deities,  because  men  of  this  disposi 
tion  become  unprofitable  to  all  human  things. 
For  whatsoever  produceth  no  fruit  of  itself,  but 
passeth  and  vanisheth  as  if  it  never  had  been, 
like  the  way  of  a  ship  in  the  sea,  that  the  an 
cients  were  wont  to  dedicate  to  the  ghosts,  and 
powers  below. 

STYX,  OR  LEAGUES. 

THE  oath  by  which  the  gods  were  wont  to 
oblige  themselves  when  they  meant  to  ratify  any 
thing  so  firmly  as  never  to  revoke  it,  is  a  thino- 
well  known  to  the  vulgar,  as  being  mentioned 
almost  in  every  fable,  which  was,  when  they  did 
not  invoke  or  call  to  witness  any  celestial  majesty 
or  divine  power,  but  only  the  river  Styx,  that  with 
crooked  and  meandry  turnings  encircleth  the  pa 
lace  of  the  infernal  Dis.  This  was  held  as  the 
only  manner  of  their  sacrament,  and,  besides  it, 
not  any  other  vow  to  be  accounted  firm  and  invio 
lable,  and  therefore  the  punishment  to  be  inflicted, 
if  any  did  perjure  themselves,  was,  that  for  cer 
tain  years  they  should  be  put  out  of  commons, 
and  not  to  be  admitted  to  the  table  of  the  gods. 

This  fable  seems  to  point  at  the  leagues  and 
pacts  of  princes,  of  which  more  truly  than  op 
portunely  may  be  said,  that  be  they  never  so 
strongly  confirmed  with  the  solemnity  and  reli 
gion  of  an  oath,  yet  are  for  the  most  part  of  no 
validity;  insomuch,  that  they  are  made  rather 
with  an  eye  to  reputation,  and  report,  and  cere 
mony,  than  to  faith,  security,  and  effect.  More 
over,  add  to  these  the  bonds  of  affinity,  as  the  sa 
craments  of  nature,  and  mutual  deserts  of  each 
part,  and  you  shall  observe,  that  with  a  great 
many,  all  these  things  are  placed  a  degree  under 
ambition  and  profit,  and  the  licentious  desire  of 
domination  ;  and  so  much  the  rather,  because  it 
is  an  easy  thing  for  princes  to  defend  and  cover 
their  unlawful  desires  and  unfaithful  vows  with 

VOL.  I  —37 


many  outwardly  seeming  fair  pretexts,  especially 
seeing  there  is  no  umpire  or  moderator  of  matters 
concluded  upon,  to  whom  a  reason  should  be 
tendered.  Therefore  there  is  no  true  and  proper 
thing  made  choice  of  for  the  confirmation  of  faith, 
and  that  no  celestial  power  neither,  but  is  indeed 
necessity,  (a  great  god  to  great  potentates,)  the 
peril  also  of  state,  and  the  communication  of 
profit.  As  for  necessity,  it  is  elegantly  represent 
ed  by  Styx,  that  fatal  and  irremeable  river ;  and 
this  godhead  did  Ipichrates,  the  Athenian,  call  to 
the  confirmation  of  a  league,  who,  because  he 
alone  is  found  to  speak  plainly  that  which  many 
hide  covertly  in  their  breasts,  it  would  not  be 
amiss  to  relate  his  words.  He  observing  how 
the  Lacsedemonians  had  thought  upon  and  pro 
pounded  divers  cautions,  sanctions,  confirmations,, 
and  bonds,  pertaining  to  leagues,  interposed  thus  : 
"  Unum  Lacaedemonii,  nobis  vobiscum  vinculum, 
et  securitatis  ratio  esse  possit,  si  plane  demonstre- 
tis,  vos  ea  nobis  concessisse,  et  inter  manus  posu- 
isse,  ut  vobis  facultas  laedendi  nos  si  maxime  vel- 
letis  minime  suppetere  possit."  There  is  one 
thing,  oh  Lacaedemonians  !  that  would  link  ua 
unto  you  in  the  bond  of  amity,  and  be  the  occa 
sion  of  peace  and  security,  which  is,  if  you  would 
plainly  demonstrate  that  you  have  yielded  up 
and  put  into  our  hands  such  things  as  that,,  would 
you  hurt  us  never  so  fain,  you  should  yet  be  dis- 
furnished  of  means  to  do  it.  If,  therefore,  the 
power  of  hurting  be  taken  away,  or  if,  by  breach 
of  league,  there  follow  the  danger  of  the  ruin  or 
diminution  of  the  state  or  tribute,  then  indeed  the 
leagues  may  seem  to  be  ratified  and  established, 
and  as  it  were  confirmed  by  the  sacrament  of 
the  Stygian  lake ;  seeing  that  it  includes  the  fear 
of  prohibition  and  suspension  from  the  table  of 
the  gods,  under  which  name  the  laws  and  prerog 
atives,  the  plenty  and  felicity  of  a  kingdom  were 
signified  by  the  ancients. 

PAN,  OR  NATURE. 

THE  ancients  have  exquisitely  described  Na 
ture  under  the  person  of  Pan,  whose  original 
they  leave  doubtful ;  for  some  say  that  he  was  the 
son  of  Mercury,  others  attribute  unto  him  a  far 
different  beginning,  affirming  him  to  be  the  com 
mon  offspring  of  Penelope's  suitors,  upon  a  sus 
picion  that  every  one  of  them  had  to  do  with  her  ; 
which  latter  relation  doubtless  gave  occasion  to 
some  after  writers  to  entitle  this  ancient  fable 
with  the  name  of  Penelope  :  a  thing  very  frequent 
amongst  them  when  they  apply  old  fictions  to 
young  persons  and  names,  and  that  many  times 
absurdly  and  indiscreetly,  as  may  be  seen  here  : 
for  Pan,  being  one  of  the  ancient  gods,  was  long 
before  the  time  of  Ulysses  and  Penelope.  Be 
sides,  for  her  matrimonial  chastity,  she  was  held 
venerable  by  antiquity.  Neither  may  we  preter 
mit  the  third  conceit  of  his  birth :  for  some  say 
2B 


290 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


that  he  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Hybris,  which 
signifies   contumely   or  disdain :  hut  howsoeve: 
begotten,  the  Parcae,  they  say,  were  his  sisters 
He  is  portrayed  by  the  ancients  in  this  guise ;  on 
his  head  a  pair  of  horns  to  reach  to  heaven,  his 
body  rough  and  hairy,  his  beard  long  and  shaggy 
his  shape  biformed,  above  like  a  man,  below  like 
a  beast,  his  feet  like  goats'  hoofs  ;  bearing  these 
ensigns  of  his  jurisdiction,  to  wit,  in  his  left  hanc 
a  pipe  of  seven  reeds,  and  in  his  right  a  sheep- 
hook,  or  a  staff  crooked  at  the  upper  end,  and  his 
mantle  made  of  a  leopard's  skin.     His  dignities 
and  offices  were  these :  he  was  the  god  of  hunt 
ers,  of  shepherds,  and  of  all  rural   inhabitants  ; 
chief  president  also  of  hill  and  mountains  ;  and, 
next  to   Mercury,  the   ambassador   of  the   gods. 
Moreover,  he  was  accounted  the  leader  and  com 
mander  of  the  nymphs,  which  were  always  wont 
to  dance  the  rounds,  and  frisk  about  him ;  he  was 
accosted  by  the  satyrs  and  the  old  Sileni.     He 
had  power  also  to  strike  men  with  terrors,  and 
those  especially  vain  and  superstitious,  which  are 
termed   panic  fears.      His  acts  were  not  many, 
for  aught  that  can  be  found  in  records  ;  tke  chief- 
est  was,  that  he  challenged  Cupid  at  wrestling,  in 
which  conflict  he  had  the  foil.    The  tale  goes,  too, 
how  that  he  caught  the  giant  Typhon  in  a  net,  and 
held   him  fast.     Moreover,   when  Ceres,   grum 
bling  and  chafing  that  Proserpina  was  ravished, 
had  hid  herself  away,  and  that  all  the  gods  took 
pains,  by  dispersing  themselves  into  every  cor 
ner,  to  find  her  out,  it  was  only  his  good  hap,  -as 
he  was  hunting,  to  light  on  her,  and  acquaint  the 
rest  where  she  was.      He  presumed  also  to  put  it 
to  trial  who  was  the  best  musician,  he  or  Apollo ; 
and  by  the  judgment  of  Midas  was  indeed  prefer 
red  :  but  the  wise  judge  had  a  pair  of  asses'  ears 
privily  chopped  to  his  noddle  for  his  sentence. 
Of  his  love  tricks  there  is  nothing  reported,  or  at 
least  not  much  ;  a  thing  to  be  wondered  at,  espe 
cially  being  among  a  troop  of  gods  so  profusely 
amorous.     This  only  is  said  of  him,,  that  he  loved 
the  nymph  Echo,  whom  he  took  to  wife  ;  and  one 
pretty  wench  more  called  Syrinx,  towards  whom 
Cupid,  in  an  angry  and  revengful  humour,  because 
so  audaciously  he  had  challenged  him  at  wrest 
ling,  inflamed  his  desire.     Moreover,  he  had  no 
issue,  which  is  a  marvel  also,  seeing  the  gods, 
especially  those  of  the  male  kind,  wrere  very  gene 
rative,  only  he  was  the  reputed  father  of  a  little 
girl  called  lambe,  that  with  many  pretty  tales 
was  wont  to  make  strangers  merry :  but  some 
think  that  he  did  indeed  beget  her  by  his  wife 
lambe. 

This,  if  any  be,  is  a  noble  tale,  as  being  laid 
out  and  big  bellied  with  the  secrets  and  mysteries 
of  nature.  Pan,  as  his  name  imports,  represents 
and  lays  open  the  all  of  things  or  nature.  Con 
cerning  his  original  there  are  two  only  opinions 
that  go  for  current ;  for  either  he  came  of  Mercu 
ry,  that  is,  the  Word  of  God,  which  the  Holy 


Scriptures  without  all  controversy  affirm,  and 
such  of  the  philosophers  as  had  any  smack  of  di 
vinity  assented  unto,  or  else  from  the  confused 
seeds  of  things.  For  they  that  would  have  one 
simple  beginning,  refer  it  unto  God ;  or  if  a  mate- 
riate  beginning,  they  would  have  it  various  in 
power ;  so  that  we  may  end  the  controversy  with 
this  distribution,  that  the  world  took  beginning, 
either  from  Mercury,  or  from  the  seeds  of  all 
things. 

VIRG.  ECLOG.   6. 

"  Namque  canebat  uti  magnum  per  inane  coacta. 
Semina,  terrarumque,  animceque  marisque  fuissent. 
Et  liquidi  simul  ignis  :  Et  his  exordia  primis 
Omnia  et  ipse  tener  mundi  concreverit  qrbis." 

For  rich-vein'd  Orpheus  sweetly  did  rehearse 
How  that  the  seeds  of  fire,  air,  water,  earth, 
Were  all  pact  in  the  vast  void  universe  : 
And  how  from  these,  as  firstlings,  all  had  birth, 
And  how  the  body  of  this  orbic  frame, 
From  tender  infancy  so  big  became. 

But  as  touching  the  third  conceit  of  Pan's  ori 
ginal,  it  seems  that  the  Grecians,  either  by  inter 
course  with  the  Egyptians,  or  one  way  or  other, 
had  heard  something  of  the  Hebrew  mysteries ;  for 
it  points  to  the  state  of  the  world,  not  considered 
in  immediate  creation,  but  after  the  fall  of  Adam, 
xposed  and  made  subject  to  death  and  corruption  ; 
for  in  that  state  it  was,  and  remains  to  this  day, 
the  offspring  of  God  and  sin ;  and  therefore  all 
these  three  narrations  concerning  the  manner  of 
Pan's  birth  may  seem  to  be  true,  if  it  be  rightly 
distinguished  between  things  and  times.  For 
this  Pan,  or  Nature,  which  we  inspect,  contem- 
alate,  and  reverence  more  than  is  fit,  took  begin 
ning  from  the  word  of  God  by  the  means  of  con- 
\ised  matter,  and  the  entrance  of  prevarication 
and  corruption.  The  Destinies  may  well  be 
.bought  the  sisters  of  Pan,  or  Nature,  because 
he  beginnings,  and  continuances,  and  corruptions, 
and  depressions,  and  dissolutions,  and  eminences, 
ind  labours,  and  felicities  of  things,  and  all  the 
chances  which  can  happen  unto  any  thing,  are 
inked  with  the  chain  of  causes  natural. 

Horns  are  attributed  unto  him,  because  herns 
are  broad  at  the  root  and  sharp  at  the  ends,  the 
nature  of  all  these  things  being  like  a  pyramis, 
sharp  at  the  top.  For  individual  or  singular 
hings  being  infinite  are  first  collected  into  species, 
which  are  many  also  ;  then  from  species  into  ge- 
lerals,  and  from  generals,  by  ascending,  are  con- 
racted  into  things  or  notions  more  general ;  so 
hat  at  length  Nature  may  seem  to  be  contracted 
nto  an  unity.  Neither  is  it  to  be  wondered  at 
hat  Pan  toucheth  heaven  with  his  horns,  seeing 
he  height  of  nature  or  universal  ideas  do  in  some 
ort  pertain  to  things  divine ;  and  there  is  a  ready 
nd  short  passage  from  metaphysic  to  natural  theo- 

°gy- 

The  body  of  nature  is  elegantly  and  with  deep 
udgment  depainted  hairy,  representing  the  beams 
r  operations  of  creatures ;  for  beams  are,  as  it 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


291 


were,  the  hairs  and  bristles  of  nature  ;  and  every 
creature  is  either  more  or  less  beamy,  which  is 
roost  apparent  in  the  faculty  of  seeing-,  and  no 
less  in  every  virtue  and  operation  that  effectuates 
upon  a  distant  object ;  for  whatsoever  works  up 
any  thing  afar  off,  that  may  rightly  be  said  to  dart 
forth  rays  or  beams. 

Moreover,  Pan's  beard  is  said  to  be  exceeding 
long,  because  the  beams  or  influences  of  celestial 
bodies  do  operate  and  pierce  farthest  of  all ;  and 
the  sun,  when  his  higher  half  is  shadowed  with  a 
cloud,  his  beams  break  out  in  the  lower,  and 
looks  as  if  he  were  bearded. 

Nature  is  also  excellently  set  forth  with  a  bi- 
formed  body,  with  respect  to  the  differences  be 
tween  superior  and  inferior  creatures.  For  one 
part,  by  reason  of  their  pulchritude  and  equability 
of  motion,  and  constancy  and  dominion  over  the 
earth  and  earthly  things,  is  worthily  set  out  by 
the  shape  of  man ;  and  the  other  part  in  respect 
of  their  perturbations  and  unconstant  motions, 
and  therefore  needing  to  be  moderated  by  the 
celestial,  may  be  well  fitted  with  the  figure  of  a 
brute  beast.  This  description  of  his  body  per 
tains  also  to  the  participation  of  species ;  for  no 
natural  being  seems  to  be  simple,  but  as  it  werd. 
participated  and  compounded  of  two ;  as  for  ex 
ample,  man  hath  something  of  a  beast,  a  beast 
something  of  a  plant,  a  plant  something  of  inani 
mate  body,  of  that  all  natural  things  are  in  very 
deed  biformed,  that  is  to  say,  compounded  of  a 
superior  and  inferior  species. 

It  is  a  witty  allegory  that  same,  of  the  feet  of 
the  goat,  by  reason  of  the  upward  tending  motion 
of  terrestial  bodies  towards  the  air  and  heaven ; 
for  the  goat  is  a  climbing  creature,  that  loves  to  be 
hanging  about  the  rocks  and  steep  mountains ; 
and  this  is  done  also  in  a  wonderful  manner  even 
by  those  things  which  are  destinated  to  this  infe 
rior  globe,  as  may  manifestly  appear  in  clouds 
and  meteors. 

The  two  ensigns  which  Pan  bears  in  his  hands 
do  point,  the  one  at  harmony,  the  other  at  empire  : 
for  the  pipe,  consisting  of  seven  reeds,  doth  evi 
dently  demonstrate  the  consent,  and  harmony,  and 
discordant  concord  of  all  inferior  creatures,  which 
is  caused  by  the  motion  of  the  seven  planets  :  and 
that  of  the  sheep-hook  may  be  excellently  applied 
to  the  order  of  nature,  which  is  partly  right, 
partly  crooked  :  this  staff  therefore  or  rod  is  spe 
cially  crooked  in  the  upper  end,  because  all  the 
works  of  divine  Providence  in  the  world  are  done 
in  a  far-fetched  and  circular  manner,  so  that  one 
thing  may  seem  to  be  effected,  and  yet  indeed  a 
clean  contrary  brought  to  pass,  as  the  selling  of 
Joseph  into  Egypt,  and  the  like.  Besides,  in  all 
wise  human  government,  they  that  sit  at  the  helm 
do  more  happily  bring  their  purposes  about,  and 
insinuate  more  easily  into  the  minds  of  the  people 
by  pretext  and  oblique  courses  than  by  direct 
methods :  so  that  all  sceptres  and  masses  of  au 


thority  ought  in  very  deed  to  be  crooked  in  the 
upper  end. 

Pan's  cloak  or  mantle  is  ingeniously  feigned 
to  be  a  skin  of  a  leopard,  because  it  is  full  of 
spots :  so  the  heavens  are  spotted  with  stars,  the 
sea  with  rocks  and  islands,  the  land  with  flowers, 
and  every  particular  creature  also  is  for  the  most 
part  garnished  with  divers  colours  about  the 
superficies,  which  is  as  it  were  a  mantle  unto  it. 

The  office  of  Pan  can  be  by  nothing  so  lively 
conceived  and  expressed,  as  by  feigning  him  to 
be  the  god  of  hunters ;  for  every  natural  action, 
and  so  by  consequence  motion  and  progression,  is 
nothing  else  but  a  hunting.  Arts  and  sciences 
have  their  works,  and  human  counsels  their  ends, 
which  they  earnestly  hunt  after.  All  natural 
things  have  either  their  food  as  a  prey,  or  their 
pleasure  as  a  recreation  which  they  seek  for,  and 
that  in  a  most  expert  and  sagacious  manner. 

"Torva  letena  lupum  sequitur,  lupus  ipse  capellam. 
Florentem  cytisum,  sequitur  lasciva  capella. 

The  hungry  lioness,  with  ^fflrp  desire, 
Piirsaes^the  wolf,  the  wolf  the  wpiiton  goat: 
Th^roafcagain  doth  gje^ecfily  aspire 
To  Ijave  ihe  trefoi^yuice  pass  down  her  throat. 

\  Pan  is  also  saicUtquhe  the  god  of  the  country- 
clpwns  ~  became  mftjftff  this  condition  lead  lives 
n^Qi'agreeabfe^rla^^nature  than  those  that  live 
in  cities  and  cou^to'of  princes,  where  nature,  by 
too  muqh  art,  is  corrupted ;  so  as  the  saying  of 
fcie.poqt,  though  in  the  sense  of  love,  might  be 
here  verified :  ^ 
•«  ./  "  Pars  miriirria  est*iffsa  puella  sui." 

trick'd  herself  with  art, 
rself  she»4g  least*part. 

Me  wsrs^ffcld  to  be  lord  president  of.  the  moun 
tains  ;  because  ip  the  high  mountains  and  hills 
nat^reslay^jierseljf  most  open,  and  men  most  apt 
to  vipw  and  conteinplatiQn, 

WJiei^as  Pan  is  said  to  be,  next  unto  Mercury, 
the  mgrp|^rfo;er  of  the  gods,  there  is  in  that  a 
divine vmys*ry  contained  ;  for,  ntfst  to  the  word 
of  God,  the  image  of  4he  world  proclaims  the 
power  and  wisdom4«divine,  as-sTngs  the  sacred 
poet.  Psal.  ^ix.  1^>"  CteVi'enarrant  gloriam  Dei 
atque  tfpera  manuun>,  ejus  indicat  firmamentum." 
The  heavens  declare'  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
firmamocilf  showeth  the  works  of  his  hands. 

The  nyrftphs-,  that  is,  the  souls  of  living  things, 
take  greftt  delight  in  Ban  :  for  these  souls  are. the 
delights  "or  minions  of  nature;  and  the  direction 
or  conduct  of  thjbse  nymphs  is,  with  great  reason, 
attributed  unto  Pan,  because  the  souls  of  all 
things  living  do  follow  their  natural  dispositions 
as  their  glides  |  ,»tid  with  -infinite  variety  every 
one  of  them,  after  'his  oVn  fashion,  doth  leap, 
and  frisk,  and  cfance,  >fith  incessant  motions 
about  her.  ^The  satyrs  vnjf  Silent  also,  to  wit, 
youth  and  oM  age,  are  some  of  Pan's  followers: 
for  of  all  natural  things,  there  is  a  lively,  jocund, 
and,  as  I  may  say,  a  dancing  age ;  and  an  age 


lie 
:hafbf 


292 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


again  that  is  dull,  bibling,  and  reeling.  The 
carriages  and  dispositions  of  both  which  ages, 
to  some  such  as  Democritus  was,  that  would 
observe  them  duly,  might,  perad venture,  seem  as 
ridiculous  and  deformed  as  the  gambols  of  the 
satyrs,  or  the  gestures  of  the  Sileni. 

Of  those  fears  and  terrors  which  Pan  is  said 
to  be  the  author,  there  may  be  this  wise  con 
struction  made  :  namely,  that  nature  hath  bred  in 
every  living  thing  a  kind  of  care  and  fear  tend 
ing  to  the  preservation  of  its  own  life  and  being, 
and  to  the  repelling  and  shunning  of  all  things 
hurtful ;  and  yet  nature  knows  not  how  to  keep  a 
mean,  but  always  intermixes  vain  and  empty 
fears  with  such  as  are  discreet  and  profitable :  so 
that  all  things,  if  their  insides  might  be  seen, 
would  appear  full  of  panic  frights ;  but  men, 
especially  in  hard,  fearful,  and  diverse  times,  are 
wonderfully  infatuated  with  superstition,  which 
indeed  is  nothing  else  but  a  panic  terror. 

Concerning  the  audacity  of  Pan  in  challenging 
Cupid  at  wrestling:  the  meaning  of  it  is,  that 
matter  wants  not  inclination  and  desire  to  the 
relapsing  and  dissolution  of  the  world  tnto  the 
old  chaos,  if  her  malice  and  violence  were  not 
restrained  and  kept  in  order  by  the  prepotent 
unity  and  agreement  of  things,  signified  by  Cupid 
or  the  god  of  love ;  and  therefore  it  was  a  happy 
turn  for  men,  and  all  things  else,  that  in  that' 
conflict  Pan  was  found  too  weak  and  overcome. 

To  the  same  effect  may  be  interpreted,  his 
catching  of  Typhon  in  a  net;  for  howsoever  there 
may  sometimes  happen  vast  and  unwonted  tu 
mours,  as  the  name  of  Typhon  imports,  either  in 
the  sea,  or  in  the  air,  or  in  the  earth,  or  elsewhere ; 
yet  nature  doth  entangle  it  in  an  intricate  toil, 
and  curb  and  restrain  it  as  it  were  with  a  chain 
of  adamant,  the  excesses  and  insolencies  of  these 
kind  of  bodies. 

But  forasmuch  as  it  was  Pan's  good  fortune  to 
find  out  Ceres  as  he  was  hunting,  and  thought 
little  of  it,  which  none  of  the  other  gods  could 
do,  though  they  did  nothing  else  but  seek  her, 
and  that  very  seriously,  it  gives  us  this  true  and 
grave  admonition,  that  we  expect  not  to  receive 
things  necessary  for  life  and  manners  from  philo 
sophical  abstractions,  as  from  the  greater  gods, 
albeit  they  applied  themselves  to  no  other  study, 
but  from  Pan;  that  is,  from  the  discreet  observa 
tion  and  experience,  and  the  universal  knowledge 
of  the  things  of  this  world;  whereby,  oftentimes 
even  by  chance,  and  as  it  were  going  a  hunting, 
such  inventions  are  lighted  upon. 

The  quarrel  he  made  with  Apollo  about  music, 
and  the  event  thereof,  contains  a  wholesome  in 
struction.  w7hich  may  serve  to  restrain  men's  rea 
sons  and  judgments  with  reins  of  sobriety,  from 
boasting  and  glorying  in  their  gifts ;  for  there 
seems  to  be  a  twofold  harmony  or  music,  the  one 
of  divine  providence,  and  the  other  of  human 
icason.  Now  to  the  ears  of  mortals,  that  is,  to 


human  judgment,  the  administration  of  the  world 
and  creatures  therein,  and  the  more  secret  judg 
ments  of  God,  sound  very  hard  and  harsh;  which 
folly,  albeit  it  be  well  set  out  with  asses'  ears, 
yet  notwithstanding  these  ears  are  secret,  and  do 
not  openly  appear ;  neither  is  it  perceived  or  noted 
as  a  deformity  by  the  vulgar. 

Lastly,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  there 
is  nothing  attributed  unto  Pan  concerning  loves, 
but  only  of  his  marriage  with  Echo ;  for  the 
world  or  nature  doth  enjoy  itself,  and  in  itself  all 
things  else.  Now  he  that  loves  would  enjoy 
something,  but  where  there  is  enough  there  is  no 
place  left  to  desire;  therefore  there  can  be  no 
wanting  love  in  Pan,  or  the  world,  nor  desire  to 
obtain  any  thing,  seeing  he  is  contented  with  him 
self,  but  only  speeches,  which,  if  plain,  may  be 
intimated  by  the  nymph  Echo,  or,  if  more  quaint, 
by  Syrinx.  It  is  an  excellent  invention  that  Pan, 
or  the  world,  is  said  to  make  choice  of  Echo  only, 
above  all  other  speeches  or  voices,  for  his  wife ; 
for  that  alone  is  true  philosophy  which  doth  faith 
fully  render  the  very  words  of  the  world ;  and  it 
is  written  no  otherwise  than  the  world  doth  dic 
tate,  it  being  nothing  else  but  the  image  or  reflec 
tion  of  it,  not  adding  any  thing  of  its  own,  but 
only  iterates  and  resounds.  It  belongs  also  to 
the  sufficiency  or  perfection  of  the  world,  that  he 
begets  no  issue ;  for  the  world  doth  generate  in 
respect  of  its  parts;  but  in  respect  of  the  whole, 
how  can  it  generate,  seeing  without  it  there  is  no 
body  ?  Notwithstanding  all  this,  the  tale  of  that 
tattling  girl  faltered  upon  Pan,  may  in  very  deed, 
with  great  reason,  be  added  to  this  fable ;  for  by 
her  are  represented  those  vain  and  idle  paradoxes 
concerning  the  nature  of  things  which  have  been 
frequent  in  all  ages,  and  have  filled  the  world 
with  novelties;  fruitless,  if  you  respect  the  mat 
ter  ;  changelings,  if  you  respect  the  kind  ;  some 
times  creating  pleasure,  sometimes  tediousness, 
with  their  overmuch  prattling. 

PERSEUS,  OR  WAR. 

PERSEUS  is  said  to  have  been  employed  by  Pal 
las  for  the  destroying  of  Medusa,  who  was  very 
infestuous  to  the  western  parts  of  the  world,  and 
especially  about  the  utmost  coasts  of  Hiberia;  a 
monster  so  dire  and  horrid,  that  by  her  only 
aspect  she  turned  men  into  stones.  This  Medusa 
alone  of  all  the  Gorgons  was  mortal,  the  rest  not 
subject  to  death.  Perseus,  therefore,  preparing 
himself  for  this  noble  enterprise,  had  arms  and 
gifts  bestowed  on  him  by  three  of  the  gods; 
Mercury  gave  him  wings  annexed  to  his  heels, 
Pluto  a  helmet,  Pallas  a  shield  and  a  looking- 
glass.  Notwithstanding,  although  he  were  thus 
furnished,  he  went  not  directly  to  Medusa,  but 
first  to  the  Grcae,  which,  by  the  mothers  side, 
were  sisters  to  the  Gorgons.  These  Grese  from 
their  birth  were  hoarheaded,  resembling  old  wo 
men;  they  had  but  one  only  eye  and  one  tooth 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


293 


among1  them  all,  both  which,  she  that  had  oc 
casion  to  go  abroad,  was  wont  to  take  with  her 
and  at  her  return  to  lay  them  down  again.  This 
eye  and  tooth  they  lent  to  Perseus ;  and  so  find 
ing  himself  thoroughly  furnished  for  the  effecting 
of  his  design,  hastens  towards  Medusa.  Her  he 
found  sleeping,  and  yet  durst  not  present  himself 
with  his  face  towards  her,  lest  she  should  awake ; 
but  turning  his  head  aside  beheld  her  in  Pallas's 
glass,  and,  by  this  means  directing  his  blow,  cut 
oif  her  head;  from  whose  blood  gushing  out, 
instantly  came  Pegasus,  the  flying-horse.  Her 
head  thus  smote  off,  Perseus  bestows  on  Pallas's 
shield,  which  yet  retained  this  virtue,  that  what 
soever  looked  upon  it  should  become  as  stupid  as 
a  stone,  or  one  like  planet-strucken. 

This  fable  seems  to  direct  the  preparation  and 
order  that  is  to  be  used  in  making  of  war ;  for  the 
more  apt  and  considerate  undertaking  whereof, 
three  grave  and  wholesome  precepts,  savouring  of 
the  wisdom  of  Pallas,  are  to  be  observed. 

First,  That  men  do  not  much  trouble  them 
selves  about  the  conquest  of  neighbour  nations, 
seeing  that  private  possessions  and  empires  are 
enlarged  by  different  means ;  for  in  the  augmen 
tation  of  private  revenues,  the  vicinity  of  men's 
territories  is  to  be  considered ;  but  in  the  propa 
gation  of  public  dominions,  the  occasion  and 
facility  of  making  war,  and  the  fruit  to  be  ex 
pected  ought  to  be  instead  of  vicinity.  Certainly 
the  Romans,  what  time  their  conquests  towards 
the  west  scarce  reached  beyond  Liguria,  did  yet 
in  the  east  bring  all  the  provinces  as  far  as  the 
mountain  Taurus  within  the  compass  of  their 
arms  and  command;  and  therefore  Perseus,  al 
though  he  were  bred  and  born  in  the  east,  did  not 
yet  refuse  to  undertake  an  expedition  even  to  the 
uttermost  bounds  of  the  west. 

Secondly,  There  must  be  a  care  had,  that  the 
motives  of  war  be  just  and  honourable  ;  for  that 
begets  an  alacrity  as  well  in  the  soldiers  that 
fight  as  in  the  people  that  pay ;  it  draws  on  and 
procures  aids,  and  brings  many  other  commodities 
besides.  But  there  is  no  pretence  to  take  up 
arms  more  pious,  than  the  suppressing  of  tyranny; 
under  which  yoke  the  people  lose  their  courage, 
and  are  cast  down  without  heart  and  vigour,  as  in 
the  sight  of  Medusa. 

Thirdly,  It  is  wisely  added,  that  seeing  there 
were  three  Gorgons,  by  which  wars  are  repre 
sented,  Perseus  undertook  her  only  that  was 
mortal;  that  is,  he  made  choice  of  such  a  kind 
of  war  as  was  likely  to  be  effected  and  brought 
to  a  period,  not  pursuing  vast  and  endless  hopes. 

The  furnishing  of  Perseus  with  necessaries 
was  that  which  only  advanced  his  attempt,  and 
drew  fortune  to  be  of  his  side ;  for  he  had  speed 
from  Mercury,  concealing  of  his  counsels  from 
Orcus,  and  providence  from  Pallas. 

Neither  is  it  without  an  allegory,  and  that  full 
of  matter  too,  that  those  wings  of  celerity  were 


fastened  to  Perseus'  heels  and  not  to  his  ankles, 
to  his  feet  and  not  to  his  shoulders;  because 
speed  and  celerity  are  required,  not  so  much  in 
the  first  preparations  for  war,  as  in  those  things 
which  second  and  yield  aid  to  the  first ;  for  there 
is  no  error  in  war  more  frequent,  than  that  pro 
secutions  and  subsidiary  forces  do  fail  to  answer 
the  alacrity  of  the  first  onsets. 

Now  for  that  helmet  which  Pluto  gave  him, 
powerful  to  make  men  invisible,  the  moral  is 
plain;  but  that  twofold  gift  of  Providence,  to 
wit,  the  shield  and  looking-glass,  is  full  of  mo 
rality  ;  for  that  kind  of  providence,  which  like  a 
shield  avoids  the  force  of  blows,  is  not  alone 
needful,  but  that  also  by  which  the  strength,  and 
motions,  and  counsels  of  the  enemy  are  descried, 
as  in  the  looking-glass  of  Pallas. 

But  Perseus,  albeit  he  were  sufficiently  fur 
nished  with  aid  and  courage,  yet  was  he  to  do 
one  thing  of  special  importance  before  he  entered 
the  lists  with  this  monster,  and  that  was  to  have 
some  intelligence  with  the  Grese.  These  Greas 
are  treasons,  which  may  be  termed  the  sisters  of 
war;  not  descended  of  the  same  stock,  but  far 
unlike  in  nobility  of  birth ;  for  wars  are  generous 
and  heroical,  but  treasons  are  base  and  ignoble. 
Their  description  is  elegant,  for  they  are  said  to 
be  gray-headed,  and  like  old  women  from  their 
birth,  by  reason  that  traitors  are  continually  vexed 
with  cares  and  trepidations.  But  all  their  strength, 
before  they  break  out  into  open  rebellions,  con 
sists  either  in  an  eye  or  in  a  tooth ;  for  every 
faction  alienated  from  any  state,  contemplates 
and  bites.  Besides,  this  eye  and  tooth  is  as  it 
were  common ;  for  whatsoever  they  can  learn 
and  know  is  delivered  and  carried  from  one  to 
another  by  the  hands  of  faction.  And  as  con 
cerning  the  tooth,  they  do  all  bite  alike,  and  sing 
the  same  song;  so  that  hear  one  and  you  hear  all. 
Perseus  therefore  was  to  deal  with  these  Grese 
for  the  love  of  their  eye  and  tooth ;  their  eye  to 
discover,  their  tooth  to  sow  rumours  and  stir  up 
envy,  and  to  molest  and  trouble  the  minds  of 
men.  These  things  therefore  being  thus  disposed 
and  prepared,  he  addresses  himself  to  the  action 
of  war,  and  sets  upon  Medusa  as  she  slept ;  for  a 
wise  captain  will  ever  assault  his  enemy  when 
he  is  unprepared  and  most  secure,  and  then  is 
there  good  use  of  Pallas's  glass ;  for  most  men, 
before  it  come  to  the  push,  can  acutely  pry  into 
and  discern  their  enemies'  estate;  but  the  best 
use  of  this  glass  is  in  the  very  point  of  danger, 
that  the  manner  of  it  may  be  so  considered  that 
the  terror  may  not  discourage,  which  is  signified 
by  that  looking  into  this  glass  with  the  face 
turned  from  Medusa. 

The  monster's  head  being  cut  off,  there  fol 
low  two  effects.  The  first  was  the  procreation 
and  raising  of  Pegasus,  by  which  may  be  evi- 
lently  understood  fame,  that,  flying  through  the 
world,  proclaims  victory.  The  second  is  the 
2s  2 


294 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


bearing  of  Medusa's  head  in  his  shield ;  to  which 
there  is  no  kind  of  defence  for  excellency  com 
parable  :  for  the  one  famous  and  memorable  act 
prosperously  effected  and  brought  to  pass,  doth 
restrain  the  motions  and  insolencies  of  enemies 
and  makes  Envv  herself  silent  and  amazed. 

ENDYMION,  OR  A  FAVOURITE. 

IT  is  said  that  Luna  was  in  love  with  the  shep 
herd  Endymion,  and  in  a  strange  and  unwonted 
manner  bewrayed  her  affection ;  for  he  lying  in  a 
cave  framed  by  nature  under  the  mountain  Lat- 
mus,  she  oftentimes  descended  from  her  sphere 
to  enjoy  his  company  as  he  slept;  and  after  she 
had  kissed  him  ascended  up  again.  Yet,  not 
withstanding  this,  his  idleness  and  sleepy  security 
did  not  any  way  impair  his  estate  or  fortune ;  for 
Luna  brought  it  so  to  pass,  that  he  alone,  of  all 
the  rest  of  the  shepherds,  had  his  flock  in  best 
plight,  and  most  fruitful. 

This  fable  may  have  reference  to  the  nature 
and  dispositions  of  princes ;  for  they  being  full 
of  doubts  and  prone  to  jealousy,  do  not  easily 
acquaint  men  of  prying  and  curious  eyes,  and  as 
it  were  of  vigilant  and  wakeful  dispositions, 
with  the  secret  humours  and  manners  of  their 
life;  but  such  rather  as  are  of  quiet  and  obser 
vant  natures,  suffering  them  to  do  what  they  list 
without  further  scanning,  making  as  if  they  were 
ignorant,  and  perceiving  nothing,  but  of  a  stupid 
disposition,  and  possessed  with  sleep,  yielding 
unto  them  simple  obedience  rather  than  sly  com 
pliments  ;  for  it  pleaseth  princes  now  and  then  to 
descend  from  their  thrones  or  majesty,  like  Luna 
from  the  superior  orb,  and  laying  aside  their  robes 
cf  dignity,  which  always  to  be  cumbered  with 
would  seem  a  kind  of  burden,  familiarly  to  con 
verse  with  men  of  this  condition,  which  they 
think  may  be  done  without  danger;  a  quality 
chiefly  noted  in  Tiberius  Caesar,  who,  of  all 
others,  was  a  prince  most  severe ;  yet  such  only 
were  gracious  in  his  favour,  as  being  well  ac 
quainted  with  his  disposition,  did  yet  constantly 
dissemble  as  if  they  knew  nothing.  This  was 
the  custom  also  of  Lewis  the  Eleventh,  King  of 
France,  a  cautious  and  wily  prince. 

Neither  is  it  without  elegancy  that  the  cause 
cf  Endymion  is  mentioned  in  the  fable,  because 
that  it  is  a  thing  usual ,with  such  as  are  the  fa 
vourites  of  princes,  to  have  certain  pleasant  retiring 
places  whither  to  invite  them  for  recreation  both 
of  body  and  mind,  and  that  without  hurt  or  pre 
judice  to  their  fortunes  also.  And  indeed  these 
kind  of  favourites  are  men  commonly  well  to 
pass;  for  princes,  although  peradventure  they 
promote  them  not  ever  to  places  of  honour,  yet 
do  they  advance  them  sufficiently  by  their  favour 
and  countenance :  neither  do  they  affect  them 
thus  only  to  serve  their  own  turn ;  but  are  wont 
to  enrich  them  now  and  then  with  great  dignities 
and  bounties. 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  GIANTS,  OR 
FAME. 

IT  is  a  poetical  relation,  that  the  giants  begotten 
of  the  earth  made  war  upon  Jupiter  and  the  other 
gods;  and  by  the  force  of  lightning  they  were 
resisted  and  overthrown :  whereat  the  earth  being 
excitated  to  wrath,  in  revenge  of  her  children, 
brought  forth  Fame,  the  youngest  sister  of  the 
giants. 

"  Illam  terra  parens  ira  irritata  deorum, 
Extremam  (at  perhibunt)  CJEO  Enceladoque  sororem, 

Progemiit" 

Provoked  by  wrathful  gods,  the  mother  earth 
Gives  Fame,  the  giant's  youngest  sister,  birth. 

The  meaning  of  the  fable  seems  to  be  thus : 
By  the  earth  is  signified  the  nature  of  the  vulgar, 
always  swollen  and  malignant,  and  still  broach 
ing  new  scandals  against  superiors,  and  having 
gotten  fit  opportunity  stirs  up  rebels  and  seditious 
persons,  that  with  impious  courage  do  molest 
princes,  and  endeavour  to  subvert  their  estates; 
but  being  suppressed,  the  same  natural  disposi 
tion  of  the  people  still  leaning  to  the  viler  sort, 
being  impatient  of  peace  and  tranquillity,  spread 
rumours,  raise  malicious  slanders,  repining  whis 
perings,  infamous  libels,  and  others  of  that  kind, 
to  the  detraction  of  them  that  arc  in  authority^; 
so  as  rebellious  actions  and  seditious  reports' 
differ  nothing  in  kind  and  blood,  but  as  it  were 
in  sex  only,  the  one  sort  being  masculine  and  the 
other  feminine. 

ACTION  AND  PENTHEUS,  OR  A  CU 
RIOUS  MAN. 

THE  curiosity  of  men  in  prying  into  secrets, 
and  coveting  with  an  undiscreet  desire  to  attain 
the  knowledge  of  things  forbidden,  is  set  forth 
by  the  ancients  in  two  other  examples,  the  one  of 
Actffion,  the  other  of  Pentheus. 

Actason  having  unawares,  and  as  it  were  by 
chance,  beheld  Diana  naked,  was  turned  into  a 
stag,  and  devoured  by  his  own  dogs. 

And  Pentheus  climbing  up  into  a  tree  with  a 
desire  to  be  a  spectator  of  the  hidden  sacrifices 
of  Bacchus,  was  strucken  with  such  a  kind  of 
frenzy,  as  that  whatsoever  he  looked  upon  he 
thought  it  always  double,  supposing,  among  other 
things,  he  saw  two  suns  and  two  Thebes;  inso 
much,  that  running  towards  Thebes,  spying  an 
other  Thebes,  instantly  turned  back  again,  and  so 
kept  still  running  forward  and  backward  with 
perpetual  unrest. 

"Eumenidum  veluti  demens  vidit  agmiua  Pontheus, 
Et  solem  geminum,  et  dupiices  se  ostendere  Thebas." 
Pentheus  amazed,  doth  troops  of  Furies  spy; 
And  sun  and  Thebes  seem  double  to  his  eye. 

The  first  of  the  fables  pertains  to  the  secrets 

of  princes,  the  second  to  divine  mysteries.     For 

;  those  that  are  near  about  princes,  and  come  to  the 

knowledge  of  more  secrets  than  they  would  have 

them,  do  certainly  incur  great  hatred:  and  there- 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


295 


fore,  suspecting  that  they  are  shot  at,  and  oppor 
tunities  watched  for  their  overthrow,  do  lead  their 
lives  like  stags,  fearful  and  full  of  suspicion. 
And  it  happens  oftentimes  that  their  servants,  and 
those  of  their  household,  to  insinuate  into  the 
prince's  favour,  do  accuse  them  to  their  destruc 
tion,  for  aga  Jnst  whomsoever  the  prince's  displea 
sure  is  known,  look  how  many  servants  that  man 
hath,  and  you  shall  find  them  for  the  most  part  so 
many  traitors  unto  him,  that  his  end  may  prove  to  be 
like  Action's. 

The  other  is  the  misery  of  Pentheus  ;  for  that 
by  the  height  of  knowledge  and  nature  in  philo 
sophy,  having  climbed  as  it  were  into  a  tree,  do 
with  rash  attempts,  unmindful  of  their  frailty, 
pry  into  the  secrets  of  divine  mysteries,  and  are 
justly  plagued  with  perpetual  inconstancy,  and 
with  wavering  and  perplexed  conceits;  for  see 
ing  the  light  of  nature  is  one  thing  and  of  grace 
another,  it  happens  so  to  them  as  if  they  saw 
two  suns.  And  seeing  the  actions  of  life  and 
decrees  of  the  will  to  depend  on  the  understand 
ing,  it  follows  that  they  doubt,  are  inconstant  no 
less,  in  will  than  in  opinion;  and  so  in  like 
manner  they  may  be  said  to  see  two  Thebes  ; 
for  by  Thebes,  seeing  there  was  the.  habitation 
a$d  refuge  of  Pentheus,  is  meant  the  end  of 
actions.  Hence  it  comes  to  pass  that  they  know 
not  whither  they  go,  but  as  distracted  and  unre 
solved  in  the  scope  of  their  intentions,  are  in  all 
things  carried  about  with  sudden  passions  of  the 
mind. 

ORPHEUS,  OR  PHILOSOPHY. 

THE  tale  of  Orpheus,  though  common,  had 
never  the  fortune  to  be  fitly  applied  in  every  point. 
tt  may  seem  to  represent  the  image  of  philoso- 
ohy  :  for  the  person  of  Orpheus,  a  man  admirable 
md  divine,  and  so  excellently  skilled  in  all  kind 
of  harmony,  that  with  his  sweet  ravishing  music 
he  did,  as  it  were,  charm  and  allure  all  things  to 
follow  him,  may  carry  a  singular  description  of 
philosophy  ;  for  the  labours  of  Orpheus  do  so  far 
exceed  the  labours  of  Hercules  in  dignity  and 
efficacy,  as  the  works  of  wisdom  excel  the  works 
of  fortitude. 

Orpheus,  for  the  love  he  bare  to  his  wife,  snatch 
ed,  as  it  were,  from  him  by  untimely  death,  re 
solved  to  go  down  to  hell  with  his  harp,  to  try  if  he 
might  obtain  her  of  the  infernal  power.  Neither 
were  his  hopes  frustrated  :  for  having  appeased 
them  with  the  melodious  sound  of  his  voice  and 
touch,  prevailed  at  length  so  far,  as  that  they 
granted  him  leave  to  take  her  away  with  him;  but 
on  this  condition,  that  she  should  follow  him,  and 
he  look  not  back  upon  her  till  he  came  to  the  light 
of  the  upper  world  ;  which  he,  impatient  of,  out 
of  love  and  care,  and  thinking  that  he  was  in  a 
manner  past  all  danger,  nevertheless  violated,  in 
somuch  that  the  covenant  is  broken,  and  she  forth 


with  tumbles  back  again  headlong  into  hell. 
Orpheus  falling  into  a  deep  melancholy,  became 
a  contemner  of  women-kind,  and  bequeathed  him 
self  to  a  solitary  life  in  the  deserts ;  where,  by 
the  same  melody  of  his  voice  and  harp,  he  first 
drew  all  manner  of  wild  beasts  unto  him,  who, 
forgetful  of  their  savage  fierceness,  and  casting  off 
the  precipitate  provocations  of  lust  and  fury,  not 
caring  to  satiate  their  voracity  by  hunting  after 
prey,  as  at  a  theatre,  in  fawning  and  reconciled 
amity  one  to  wards  another,  standing  all  at  the  gaze 
about  him,  and  attentively  lend  their  ears  to  his 
music.  Neither  is  this  all :  for  so  great  was  the 
power  and  alluring  force  of  this  harmony,  that  he 
drew  the  woods,  and  moved  the  very  stones  to 
come  and  place  themselves  in  an  orderly  and 
decent  fashion  about  him.  These  things  succeed 
ing  happily,  and  with  great  admiration  for  a  time; 
at  length  certain  Thracian  women,  possessed  with 
the  spirit  of  Bacchus,  made  such  a  horrid  and 
strange  noise  with  their  cornets,  that  the  sound  of 
Orpheus's  harp  could  no  more  be  heard,  insomuch 
as  that  harmony,  wrhich  was  the  bond  of  that  order, 
and  society  being  dissolved,  all  disorder  began 
again,  and  the  beasts  returning  to  their  wonted  na 
ture,  pursued  one  another  unto  death  as  before ; 
neither  did  the  trees  and  stones  remain  any  longer 
in  their  places;  and  Orpheus  himself  was  by  these 
female  Furies  torn  in  pieces,  and  scattered  all  over 
the  desert;  for  whose  cruel  death  the  river  Helicon, 
sacred  to  the  Muses,  in  horrible  indignation  hid  his 
head  underground,  and  raised  it  again  in  another 
place. 

The  meaning  of  this  fable  seems  to  be  thus : 
Orpheus's  music  is  of  two  sorts,  the  one  appeas 
ing  the  infernal  powers,  the  other  attracting  beasts 
and  trees.  The  first  may  be  fitly  applied  to 
natural  philosophy,  the  second  to  moral  or  civil 
discipline. 

The  most  noble  work  of  natural  philosophy  is 
the  restitution  and  renovation  of  things  corrupt 
ible  :  the  other,  as  a  lesser  degree  of  it,  the  pre 
servation  of  bodies  in  their  estates,  detaining 
them  from  dissolution  and  putrefaction :  and  if 
this  gift  may  be  in  mortals,  certainly  it  can  be 
done  by  no  other  means  than  by  the  due  and  ex 
quisite  temper  of  nature,  as  by  the  melody  and 
delicate  touch  of  an  instrument ;  but  seeing  it  is 
of  all  things  most  difficult,  it  is  seldom  or  never 
attained  unto;  and  in  all  likelihood  for  no  other 
reason,  more  than  through  curious  diligence  and 
untimely  impatience  :  and  therefore  philosophy, 
hardly  able  to  produce  so  excellent  an  effect  in  a 
pensive  humour,  and  that  without  cause,  busies 
herself  about  human  objects,  and  by  persuasion 
and  eloquence  insinuating  the  love  of  virtue, 
equity,  and  concord,  in  the  minds  of  men,  draws 
multitudes  of  people  to  a  society,  makes  them 
subject  to  laws,  obedient  to  government,  and  for 
getful  of  their  unbridled  affections,  whilst  they 
give  ear  to  precepts,  and  submit  themselves  to 


296 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


discipline :  whence  follows  the  building  of  houses, 
erecting1  of  towns,  planting  of  fields  and  orchards 
with  trees,  and  the  like;  insomuch,  that  it  would 
not  be  amiss  to  say,  that  even  thereby  stones  and 
woods  were  called  together  and  settled  in  order. 
And  after  serious  trial  made  and  frustrated  about 
the  restoring  of  a  body  mortal,  this  care  of  civil 
affairs  follows  in  his  due  place ;  because,  by  a 
plain  demonstration  of  the  inevitable  necessity 
of  death,  men's  minds  are  moved  to  seek  eternity 
by  the  fame  and  glory  of  their  merits.  It  is  also 
wiselv  said  in  the  fable,  that  Orpheus  was  averse 
from  the  love  of  women  and  marriage,  because 
the  delights  of  wedlock  and  the  love  of  children 
do  for  the  most  part  hinder  men  from  enterprising 
great  and  noble  designs  for  the  public  good,  hold 
ing  posterity  a  sufficient  step  to  immortality,  with 
out  actions. 

Besides,  even  the  very  works  of  wisdom,  al 
though  amongst  all  human  things  they  do  most 
excel,  do  nevertheless  meet  with  their  periods. 
For  it  happens  that  after  kingdoms  /tnd  common 
wealths  have  flourished  for  a  time,  even  tumults, 
and  seditions,  and  wars  arise;  in  the  midst  of 
which  hurly-burlies  first  laws  are  silent;  men  re 
turn  to  the  pravity  of  their  natures;  fields  and 
towns  are  wasted  and  depopulated  ;  and  then,  if 
their  fury  continue,  learning  and  philosophy  must 
needs  be  dismembered,  so  that  a  few  fragments 
only  in  some  places  will  be  found,  like  the  scatter 
ed  boards  of  shipwreck,  so  as  a  barbarous  age 
must  follow ;  and  the  streams  of  Helicon  being 
hid  under  the  earth,  until  the  vicissitude  of  things 
passing,  they  break  out  again  and  appear  in  some 
other  remote  nation,  though  not  perhaps  in  the 
same  climate. 

CCELUM,  OR  BEGINNINGS. 

WE  have  it  from  the  poets  by  tradition,  that 
Ooelum  was  the  ancientest  of  the  gods,  and  that 
his  members  of  generation  were  cut  off  by  his  son 
Saturn.  Saturn  had  many  children,  but  devoured 
them  as  soon  as  they  were  born ;  Jupiter  only 
escaped,  who  being  come  to  man's  estate,  thrust 
Saturn  his  father  into  hell,  and  so  usurped  the 
kingdom.  Moreover,  he  pared  off  his  father's 
genitals  with  the  same  falchion  that  Saturn  dis 
membered  Ccelum,  and  cast  them  into  the  sea, 
whence  came  Venus.  Not  long  after  this,  Jupiter, 
being  scarce  settled  and  confirmed  in  this  kingdom, 
was  invaded  by  two  memorable  wars ;  the  first 
of  the  Titans,  in  the  suppressing  of  which  Sol, 
who  alone  of  all  the  Titans  favouring  Jupiter's 
side,  took  exceeding  great  pains.  The  second  was 
of  the  giants,  whom  Jupiter  himself  destroyed 
with  thunderbolts ;  and  so  all  wars  being  ended, 
he  reigned  secure. 

This  fable  seems  enigmatically  to  show  from 
whence  all  things  took  their  beginning,  not 
much  differing  from  that  opinion  of  philosophers, 


which  Democritus  afterwards  laboured  to  main 
tain,  attributing  eternity  to  the  first  matter  and 
not  to  the  world  :  in  which  he  comes  somewhat 
near  the  truth  of  divine  writ,  telling  us  of  a  huge 
deformed  mass,  before  the  beginning  of  the  six 
days'  work. 

The  meaning  of  the  fable  is  this :  by  Ccelum  may 
be  understood  that  vast  concavity  or  vaulted  com 
pass  that  comprehends  all  matter ;  and  by  Saturn 
may  be  meant  the  matter  itself,  which  takes  from 
his  parent  all  power  of  generating ;  for  the  uni 
versality  or  whole  bulk  of  matter  always  remains 
the  same,  neither  increasing  or  diminishing  in  re 
spect  of  the  quality  of  its  nature ;  but  by  the  divers 
agitations  and  motions  of  it  were  first  produced 
imperfect,  and  ill  agreeing  compositions  of  things, 
making,  as  it  were,  certain  worlds  for  proofs  or 
essays,  and  so  in  process  of  time  a  perfect  fabric 
or  structure  was  framed,  which  would  still  retain 
and  keep  his  form  :  and  therefore  the  government 
of  the  first  age  was  shadowed  by  the  kingdom  of 
Saturn,  who  for  the  frequent  dissolutions  and 
short  continuances  of  things  was  aptly  feigned  to 
devour  his  children.  The  succeding  government 
was  deciphered  by  the  reign  of  Jupiter,  who  con 
fined  those  continual  mutations  unto  Tartarus,  a 
place  signifying  perturbation.  This  place  seems 
to  be  all  that  middle  place  between  the  lower  su 
perficies  of  heaven  and  the  centre  of  the  earth,  in 
which  all  perturbations,  and  fragility,  and  mortal 
ity  or  corruption  are  frequent.  During  the  former 
generation  of  things  in  the  time  of  Saturn's  reign 
Venus  was  not  born :  for  so  long  as  in  the  uni 
versality  of  matter,  discord  was  better  and  more 
prevalent  than  concord,  it  was  necessary  that  there 
should  be  a  total  dissolution  or  mutation,  and  that 
in  the  whole  fabric  ;  and  by  this  kind  of  genera 
tion  were  creatures  produced  before  Saturn  was 
deprived  of  his  genitals.  WThen  this  ceased,  that 
other  which  was  wrought  by  Venus  immediately 
came  in,  consisting  in  settled  and  prevalent  con 
cord  of  things,  so  that  mutation  should  be  only  in 
respect  of  the  parts,  the  universal  fabric  remaining 
whole  and  inviolate. 

Saturn,  they  say,  was  deposed  and  cast  down 
into  hell,  but  not  destroyed  and  utterly  extin 
guished  ;  because  there  was  an  opinion  that  the 
world  should  relapse  into  the  old  chaos  and  inter 
regnum  again,  which  Lucretius  prayed  might  not 
happen  in  his  time  : 

"  Quod  procul  &  nobis  flectat  fortuna  gubernans ; 
Et  ratio  potius  quam  res  persuadeat  ipsa." 

O,  guiding  providence  be  gracious 
That  this  dooms-day  be  far  removed  from  us; 
And  grant  that  by  us  it  may  be  expected, 
Rather  than  on  us,  in  our  times  effected. 

For  afterwards  the  world  should  subsist  by  its 
own  quantity  and  power  :  yet  from  the  beginning 
there  was  no  rest ;  for  in  the  celestial  regions  there 
first  followed  notable  mutations,  which  by  the 
power  of  the  sun,  predominating  over  superior 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


297 


bodies,  were  so  quieted,  that  the  state  of  the  world 
should  be  conserved ;  and  afterward,  in  inferior 
bodies,  by  the  suppressing  and  dissipating  of  in 
undations,  tempests,  winds,  and  general  earth 
quakes,  a  more  peaceful,  durable  agreement  and 
tranquillity  of  things  followed.  But  of  this  fable 
it  may  convertibly  be  said,  that  the  fable  contains 
philosophy,  and  philosophy  again  the  fable :  for 
we  know  by  faith,  that  all  these  things  are  no 
thing  else  but  the  long-since  ceasing  and  failing 
oracles  of  sense,  seeing  that  both  the  matter  and 
fabric  of  the  world  are  most  truly  referred  to  a 
Creator. 

PROTEUS,  OR  MATTER. 

THE  poets  say  that  Proteus  was  Neptune's 
herdsman ;  a  grave  sire,  and  so  excellent  a  pro 
phet,  that  he  might  well  be  termed  thrice  excel 
lent  :  for  he  knew  not  only  things  to  come,  but 
even  things  past  as  well  as  present:  so  that  be 
sides  his  skill  in  divination,  he  was  the  messen 
ger  and  interpreter  of  all  antiquities  and  hidden 
mysteries.  The  place  of  his  abode  was  a  huge 
vast  cave,  where  his  custom  was  every  day  at 
noon  to  count  his  flock  of  sea-calves,  and  then  to 
go  to  sleep.  Moreover,  he  that  desired  his  advice 
in  any  thing  could  by  no  other  means  obtain  it,  but 
by  catching  him  in  manacles,  and  holding  him  fast 
therewith:  who,  nevertheless,  to  be  at  liberty, 
would  turn  himself  into  all  manner  of  forms  and 
wonders  of  nature  :  sometimes  into  fire,  sometimes 
into  water,  sometimes  into  the  shape  of  beasts,  and 
the  like,  till  at  length  he  was  restored  to  his  own 
form  again. 

This  fable  may  seem  to  unfold  the  secrets  of  na 
ture  and  the  properties  of  matter.  For  under  the 
person  of  Proteus,  the  first  matter,  which,  next  to 
God, is  the  ancientest  thing,  may  be  represented  ; 
for  matter  dwells  in  the  concavity  of  heaven  as  in 
z.  cave. 

He  is  Neptune's  bond-man,  because  the  opera 
tions  and  dispensations  of  matter  are  chiefly  exer 
cised  in  liquid  bodies. 

His  flock  or  herd  seems  to  be  nothing  but  the 
ordinary  species  of  sensible  creatures,  plants,  and 
metals,  in  which  matter  seems  to  diffuse,  and,  as  it 
were,  spend  itself;  so  that  after  the  forming  and 
perfecting  of  these  kinds,  having  ended  as  it  were 
her  task,  she  seems  to  sleep  and  take  her  rest,  not 
attempting  the  composition  of  any  more  species. 
And  this  may  be  the  moral  of  Proteus  counting  of 
his  flock,  and  of  his  sleeping. 

No\v  this  is  said  to  be  done,  not  in  the  morning 
nor  iu  the  evening,  but  at  noon  :  to  wit,  at  such 
time  as  is  most  fit  and  convenient  for  the  perfect 
ing  and  bringing  forth  of  species  out  of  matter 
duly  prepared  and  predisposed  ;  and  in  the  middle, 
as  it  were,  between  their  beginnings  and  declina 
tions,  which  we  know  sufficiently,  out  of  the  holy 
history,  to  be  done  about  the  time  of  the  creation; 

VOL.  I. — 38 


for  then  by  the  power  of  that  divine  word,  pro- 
ducat,  matter  at  the  Creator's  command  did  con 
gregate  itself,  not  by  ambages  or  turnings,  but 
instantly,  to  the  production  of  its  work  into  an  act 
and  constitution  of  species :  and  thus  far  have  we 
the  narration  of  Proteus,  free  and  unrestrained,  to 
gether  with  his  flock  complete ;  for  the  universality 
of  things,  with  their  ordinary  structures  and  com 
positions  of  species,  bears  the  face  of  matter  not 
limited  and  constrained,  and  of  the  flock  also  of 
material  beings.  Nevertheless,  if  any  expert  mini 
ster  of  nature  shall  encounter  matter  by  main  force, 
vexing  and  urging  her  with  intent  and  purpose  to 
reduce  her  to  nothing,  she  contrariwise,  seeing  an 
nihilation  and  absolute  destruction  cannotbe  effect 
ed  by  the  omnipotency  of  God,  being  thus  caught 
in  the  straits  of  necessity,  doth  change  and  turn 
herself  into  divers  strange  forms  and  shapes 
of  things,  so  that  at  length,  by  fetching  a  circuit  as 
it  were,  she  comes  to  a  period,  and,  if  the  force  con 
tinue,  betakes  herself  to  her  former  being.  The 
reason  of  which  constraint  or  binding  will  be  more 
facile  and  expedite,  if  matter  be  laid  on  by  mana 
cles,  that  is,  by  extremities. 

Now  whereas  it  is  feigned  that  Proteus  was  a 
prophet,  well  skilled  in  three  differences  of  times, 
it  hath  an  excellent  agreement  with  the  nature  of 
matter  :  for  it  is  necessary  that  he  that  will  know 
the  properties  and  proceedings  of  matter,  should 
comprehend  in  his  understanding  the  sum  of  all 
things  which  have  been,  which  are,  or  shall  be,  al 
though  no  knowledge  can  extend  so  far  as  to  sin 
gular  and  individual  beings. 

MEMNON,  OR  A  YOUTH  TOO  FOR 
WARD. 

THE  poets  say  that  Memnon  was  the  son  of 
Aurora,  who,  adorned  with  beautiful  armour,  and 
animated  with  popular  applause,  came  to  the  Tro 
jan  war:  \vhere,  in  rash  boldness,  hasting  into, 
and  thirsting  after  glory,  he  enters  into  single  com 
bat  with  Achilles,  the  valiantest  of  all  the  Grecians, 
by  whose  powerful  hand  he  was  there  slain.  But 
Jupiter,  pitying  his  destruction,  sent  birds  to  mo 
dulate  certain  lamentable  and  doleful  notes  at  the 
solemnization  of  his  funeral  obsequies.  Whose 
statue  also,  the  sun  reflecting  on  it  with  his  morn 
ing  beams,  did  usually,  as  is  reported,  send  forth 
a  mournful  sound. 

This  fable  may  be  applied  to  the  unfortunate 
destinies  of  hopeful  young  men,  who,  like  the 
sons  of  Aurora,  puffed  up  with  the  glittering  show 
of  vanity  and  ostentation,  attempt  actions  above 
their  strength,  and  provoke  and  press  the  most 
valiant  heroes  to  combat  with  them,  so  that  meet 
ing  with  their  overmatch,  are  vanquished  and  de 
stroyed,  whose  untimely  death  is  oft  accompanied 
with  much  pity  and  commiseration.  For  among 
all  the  disasters  that  can  happen  to  mortals,  there 
is  none  so  lamentable  and  so  powerful  to  move 


298 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


compassion  as  the  flower  of  virtue  cropped  with 
too  sudden  a  mischance.  Neither  hath  it  been 
often  known  that  men  in  their  green  years  become  so 
loathsome  and  odious,  as  that  at  their  deaths  either 
sorrow  is  stinted  or  commiseration  moderated  :  but 
that  lamentation  and  mourning'  do  not  only  nutter 
about  their  obsequies  like  those  funeral  birds,  but 
this  pitiful  commiseration  doth  continue  for  a  long 
space,  and  specially  by  occasions  and  new  mo 
tions,  and  beginning  of  great  matters,  as  it  were 
by  the  morning  rays  of  the  sun,  their  passions  and 
desires  are  renewed. 

TITHONUS,  OR  SATIETY. 

IT  is  elegantly  feigned  that  Tithonus  was  the 
paramour  of  Aurora  who,  desirous  to  enjoy  his 
company,  petitioned  Jupiter  that  he  might  never 
die,  but  through  womanish  oversight,  forgetting 
to  insert  this  clause  in  her  petition,  that  he  might 
not  withal  grow  old  and  feeble,  it  followed  that  he 
was  only  freed  from  the  condition  of  mortality ; 
but  for  old  age  that  came  upon  him  in  a  marvel 
lous  and  miserable  fashion,  agreeable  to  the  state 
of  those  who  cannot  die,  yet  every  day  grow 
weaker  and  weaker  with  age.  Insomuch  that 
Jupiter,  in  commiseration  of  that  his  misery,  did 
at  length  metamorphose  him  into  a  grasshopper. 

This  fable  seems  to  be  an  ingenious  character 
or  description  of  pleasure,  which  in  the  beginning, 
and  as  it  were  in  the  morning,  seems  to  be  plea 
sant  and  delightful,  that  men  desire  they  might 
enjoy  and  monopolize  it  forever  unto  themselves, 
unmindful  of  that  satiety  and  loathing,  which,  like 
old  age,  will  come  upon  them  before  they  be  aware. 
And  so  at  last,  when  the  use  of  pleasure  leaves 
men,  the  desire  and  affection  not  yet  yielding  unto 
death,  it  comes  to  pass  that  men  please  themselves 
only  by  talking  and  commemorating  those  things 
which  brought  pleasure  unto  them  in  the  flower  of 
their  age,  which  may  be  observed  in  libidinous 
persons,  and  also  in  men  of  military  professions  : 
the  one  delighting  in  beastly  talk,  the  other  boast 
ing  of  their  valorous  deeds,  like  grasshoppers, 
whose  vigour  consists  only  in  their  voice. 

JUNO'S  SUITOR,  OR  BASENESS. 

THE  poets  say,  that  Jupiter,  to  enjoy  his  lustful 
delights,  took  upon  him  the  shape  of  sundry  crea 
tures,  as  of  a  bull,  of  an  eagle,  of  a  swan,  and  of 
a  goldenshower:  but  being  a  suitor  to  Juno,  he 
came  in  a  form  most  ignoble  and  base,  an  object 
full  of  contempt  and  scorn,  resembling  indeed  a 
miserable  cuckoo,  weather-beaten  with  rain  and 
tempest,  numbed,  quaking,  and  half  dead  with 
cold. 

This  fable  is  wise,  and  seems  to  be  taken  out  of 
the  bowels  of  morality ;  the  sense  of  it  being  this, 
that  men  boast  not  too  much  of  themselves,  think 
ing  by  ostentation  of  their  own  worth  to  insinuate 
themselves  into  estimation  and  favour  with  men. 


The  success  of  such  intentions  being  for  the  most 
part  measured  by  the  nature  and  disposition  of 
those  to  whom  men  sue  for  grace :  who,  if  of 
themselves  they  be  endowed  with  no  gifts  and 
ornaments  of  nature,  but  are  only  of  haughty  and 
malignant  spirits,  intimated  by  the  person  of  Juno, 
then  are  suitors  to  know  that  it  is  good  policy  to 
omit  all  kind  of  appearance  that  may  any  way 
show  their  own  least  praise  or  worth ;  and  that 
they  much  deceive  themselves  in  taking  any  other 
course.  Neither  is  it  enough  to  show  deformity 
in  obsequiousness,  unless  they  also  appear  even 
abject  and  base  in  their  very  persons. 

CUPID,  OR  AN  ATOM. 

THAT  which  the  poets  say  of  Cupid  or  Love, 
cannot  properly  be  attributed  to  one  and  the  self 
same  person,  and  yet  the  difference  is  such  that  by 
rejecting  the  confusion  of  persons,  the  similitude 
may  be  received. 

They  say  that  Love  is  the  ancientest  of  all  the 
gods,  and  of  all  things  else  except  chaos,  which 
they  hold  to  be  a  contemporary  with  it.  Now, 
as  touching  chaos,  that  by  the  ancients  was  never 
dignified  with  divine  honour,  ^or  with  the  title  of 
the  god.  And  as  for  Love,  they  absolutely  bring 
him  in  without  a  father;  only  some  are  of  opinion 
that  he  came  of  an  egg  that  was  laid  by  Nox,  and 
that  on  chaos  he  begat  the  god  and  all  things  else. 
There  are  four  things  attributed  to  him,  perpetual 
infancy,  blindness,  nakedness,  and  an  archery. 
There  was  also  another  Love,  which  was  the 
youngest  of  the  gods,  and  he,  they  say,  was  the 
son  of  Venus.  On  this  also  they  bestow  the 
attributes  of  the  elder  Love,  as  in  some  sort  will 
apply  unto  him. 

This  fable  tends  and  looks  to  the  cradle  of  na 
ture,  Love  seeming  to  be  the  appetite  or  desire  of 
the  first  matter,  or,  to  speak  more  plain,  the  na 
tural  motion  of  the  atom,  which  is  that  ancient  and 
only  power  that  forms  and  fashions  all  things  out 
of  matter,  of  which  there  is  no  parent,  that  is  to 
say,  no  cause,  seeing  every  cause  is  a  parent  to  its 
effect.  Of  this  power  or  virtue  there  can  be  no 
cause  in  nature,  as  for  God  we  always  except  him, 
for  nothing  was  before  it,  and  therefore  no  efficient 
cause  of  it.  Neither  was  there  any  thing  better 
known  to  nature,  and  therefore  neither  genus  nor 
form.  Wherefore  whatsoever  it  is,  positive  it  is, 
and  but  inexpressible.  Moreover,  if  the  manner 
and  proceeding  of  it  were  to  be  conceived,  yet 
could  it  not  be  by  any  cause,  seeing  that,  next 
unto  God,  it  is  the  cause  of  causes,  itself  only 
without  any  cause.  And  perchance  there  is  no 
likelihood  that  the  manner  of  it  may  be  contained 
or  comprehended  within  the  narrow  compass  of 
human  search.  Not  without  reason  therefore  it 
is  feigned  to  come  of  an  egg  that  was  laid  by 
Nox.  Certainly  the  divine  philosopher  grants 
so  much  Eccl.  iii.  11 :  "  Cuncta  fecit  tempesta- 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


299 


tibus  suis  pulchra,  et  mundum  tradidit  disputa- 
tionibus  eorum,  ita  tamen  ut  non  inveniat  homo 
opus,  quod  operatus  est  Deus,  principle  ad  finem." 
That  is,  he  hath  made  every  thing  beautiful  in 
their  seasons,  also  he  hath  set  the  world  in  their 
meditations,  yet  man  cannot  find  the  work  that 
God  hath  wrought,  from  the  beginning  even  to 
the  end.  For  the  principal  law  of  nature,  or 
power  of  this  desire,  created  by  God,  in  these 
parcels  of  things,  for  concurring  and  meeting  to 
gether,  from  whose  repetitions  and  multiplications 
all  variety  of  creatures  proceeded  and  were  com 
posed,  may  dazzle  the  eyes  of  men's  understand 
ings,  and  comprehended  it  can  hardly  be.  The 
Greek  philosophers  are  observed  to  be  very  acute 
and  diligent  in  searching  out  the  material  princi 
ples  of  things :  but  in  the  beginnings  of  motion, 
wherein  consists  all  the  efficacy  of  operation, 
they  are  negligent  and  weak,  and  in  this  that  we 
handle,  they  seem  to  be  altogether  blind  and  stam 
mering  :  for  the  opinion  of  the  Peripatetics  con 
cerning  the  appetite  of  matter  caused  by  privation, 
is  in  a  manner  nothing  else  but  words,  which  ra 
ther  sound  than  signify  any  reality.  And  those  that 
refer  it  unto  God  do  very  well,  bat  then  they  leap 
up,  they  ascend  not  by  degrees :  for  doubtless 
there  is  one  chief  law  subordinate  to  God,  in 
which  all  natural  things  concur  and  meet,  the 
same  that  in  the  forecited  scripture  is  demonstrated 
in  these  words,  "Opus,  quod  operatus  est  Deus 
u  principio  usque  ad  finem,"  the  work  that  God 
hath  wrought  from  the  beginning  even  to  the  end. 
But  Democritus,  which  entered  more  deeply  into 
the  consideration  of  this  point  after  he  had  con 
ceived  an  atom  with  some  small  dimension  and 
form,  he  attributed  unto  it  one  only  desire,  or  first 
motion  simply  or  absolutely,  and  another  com 
paratively  or  in  respect :  for  he  thought  that  all 
things  did  properly  tend  to  the  centre  of  the  world, 
whereof  those  bodies  which  were  more  material 
descend  with  swifter  motion,  and  those  that  had 
less  matter  did  on  the  contrary  tend  upward. 
But  this  meditation  was  very  shallow,  containing 
less  than  was  expedient :  for  neither  the  turning 
of  the  celestial  bodies  in  a  round,  nor  shutting  and 
opening  of  things  may  seem  to  be  reduced  or  ap 
plied  to  this  beginning.  And  as  for  that  opinion 
of  Epicurus  concerning  the  casual  declination  and 
agitation  of  the  atom,  it  is  but  a  mere  toy,  and  a 
plain  evidence  that  he  was  ignorant  of  that  point. 
It  is  therefore  more  apparent  than  we  could  wish, 
that  this  Cupid,  or  Love,  remains  as  yet  clouded 
under  the  shades  of  night.  Now  as  concerning 
his  attributes :  he  is  elegantly  described  with 
perpetual  infancy  or  childhood,  because  com 
pound  bodies  they  seem  greater  and  more  stricken 
in  years ;  whereas  the  first  seeds  of  things  or 
atoms,  they  are  little  and  diminute,  and  always 
in  their  infancy. 

He  is  also  well   feigned  to  be  naked,  because 
all  compound  bodies  to  a  man  rightly  judging, 


seem  to  be  apparelled  and  clothed,  and  nothing 
properly  naked  but  the  first  particles  of  things. 

Concerning  his  blindness,  the  allegory  is  full 
of  wisdom :  for  this  love,  or  desire,  whatsoever 
it  be,  seems  to  have  but  little  providence,  as 
directing  his  pace  and  motion  by  that  which  it 
perceives  nearest,  not  unlike  blind  men,  that  go 
by  feeling :  more  admirable  then  must  that  chief 
divine  providence  be,  which,  from  things  empty 
and  destitute  of  providence,  and  as  it  were  blind, 
by  a  constant  and  fatal  law  produceth  so  excellent 
an  order  and  beauty  of  things. 

The  last  thing  which  is  attributed  unto  Love 
is  archery,  by  which  is  meant,  that  his  virtue  is 
such,  as  that  it  works  upon  a  distant  object:  be 
cause  that  whatsoever  operates  afar  oif,  seems 
to  shoot,  as  it  were,  an  arrow.  Wherefore  who 
soever  holds  the  being  both  of  atoms  and  vacuity, 
must  needs  infer,  that  the  virtue  of  the  atom 
reacheth  to  a  distant  object;  for  if  it  were  not  so, 
there  could  be  no  motion  at  all,  by  reason  of  the 
interposition  of  vacuity,  but  all  things  would 
stand  stone  still,  and  remain  immovable. 

Now  as  touching  that  other  Cupid,  or  Love, 
he  may  well  be  termed  the  youngest  of  the  gods, 
because  he  could  have  no  being,  before  the  con 
stitution  of  species.  And  in  his  description  the 
allegory  may  be  applied  and  traduced  to  man 
ners  :  nevertheless  he  holds  some  kind  of  con 
formity  with  the  elder;  for  Venus  doth  generally 
stir  up  a  desire  of  conjunction  and  procreation, 
and  Cupid,  her  son,  doth  apply  this  desire  to 
some  individual  nature ;  so  that  the  general  dis 
position  comes  from  Venus,  the  more  exact  sym 
pathy  from  Cupid  :  the  one  derived  from  causes 
more  near,  the  other  from  beginnings  more  re 
mote  and  fatal,  and  as  it  were  from  the  elder 
Cupid,  of  whom  every  exquisite  sympathy  doth 
depend. 

DIOMEDES,  OR  ZEAL. 

DIOMEDES  flourishing  with  great  fame  and 
glory  in  the  Trojan  wars,  and  in  high  favour 
with  Pallas,  was  by  her  instigated,  being  indeed 
forwarder  than  he  should  have  been,  not  to  for 
bear  Venus  a  jot,  if  he  encountered  with  her  in 
fight;  which  very  boldly  he  performed,  wounding 
her  in  the  right  arm.  This  presumptuous  fact  he 
carried  clear  for  a  while,  and  being  honoured  and 
renowned  for  his  many  heroic  deeds,  at  last  re 
turned  into  his  own  country,  where  finding  him 
self  hard  bestead  with  domestic  troubles,  fled 
into  Italy,  betaking  himself  to  the  protection  of 
foreigners,  where  in  the  beginning  he  was  fortu 
nate,  and  royally  entertained  by  King  Daunus 
with  sumptuous  gifts,  raising  many  statues  in 
honour  of  him  throughout  his  dominions.  But 
upon  the  very  first  calamity  that  happened  unto 
this  nation,  whereunto  he  Vvas  fled  for  succour, 
King  Daunus  enters  into  a  conceit  with  himself 


300 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


that  he  had  entertained  a  wicked  guest  into  his 
family,  and  a  man  odious  to  the  goddess,  and  an 
impunger  of  their  divinity,  that  had  dared,  with 
his  sword,  to  assault  and  wound  that  goddess, 
who,  in  their  religion,  they  held  it  sacrilege  so 
much  as  to  touch.  Therefore,  that  he  might  ex 
piate  his  country's  guilt,  nothing  respecting  the 
duties  of  hospitality,  when  the  bonds  of  religion 
tied  him  with  a  more  reverend  regard,  suddenly 
slew  Diomedes,  commanding  withal  that  his 
trophies  and  statues  should  be  abolished  and  de 
stroyed.  Neither  was  it  safe  to  lament  this 
miserable  destiny;  but  even  his  companions  in 
arms,  whilst  they  mourned  at  the  funeral  of  their 
captain,  and  filled  all  the  places  with  plaints  and 
lamentations,  were  suddenly  metamorphosed  into 
birds  like  unto  swans,  who  when  their  death  ap- 
proacheth,  sing  melodious  and  mournful  hymns. 
This  fable  hath  a  most  rare  and  singular  sub 
ject:  for  in  any  of  the  poetical  records,  wherein 
the  heroes  are  mentioned,  we  find  not  that  any 
one  of  them,  besides  Diomedes,  did  ever  with 
his  sword  offer  violence  to  any  of  the  deities. 
And  indeed,  the  fable  seems  in  him  to  represent 
the  nature  and  fortune  of  man,  who  of  himself 
doth  propound  and  make  this  as  the  end  of  all 
his  actions,  to  worship  some  divine  power,  or  to 
follow  some  sect  of  religion,  though  never  so 
vain  and  superstitious,  and  with  force  and  arms 
to  defend  the  same :  for  although  those  bloody 
quarrels  for  religion  were  unknown  to  the  ancients, 
the  heathen  gods  not  having  so  much  as  a  touch 
of  that  jealousy,  which  is  an  attribute  of  the  true 
God,  yet  the  wisdom  of  the  ancient  times  seems 
to  be  so  copious  and  full,  as  that,  what  was  not 
known  by  experience,  was  yet  comprehended  by 
meditations  and  fictions.  They  then  that  en 
deavour  to  reform  and  convince  any  sect  of 
religion,  though  vain,  corrupt,  and  infamous, 
shadowed  by  the  person  of  Venus,  not  by  the 
force  of  argument  and  doctrine,  and  holiness  of 
life,  and  by  the  weight  of  examples  and  authority, 
but  labour  to  extirpate  and  root  it  out  by  fire  and 
sword,  and  tortures,  are  encouraged,  it  may  be, 
thereunto  by  Pallas,  that  is  by  the  acrity  of  pru 
dence,  and  severity  of  judgment,  by  whose  vigour 
and  efficacy,  they  see  into  the  falsitv  and  vanity 
of  these  errors.  And  by  this  their  hatred  of 
pravity,  and  good  zeal  to  religion,  they  purchase 
to  themselves  great  glory,  and  by  the  vulgar,  to 
whom  nothing  moderate  can  be  grateful,  are  es 
teemed  and  honoured  as  the  only  supporters  of 
truth  and  religion,  when  others  seern  to  be  luke 
warm  and  full  of  fear.  Yet  this  glory  and  hap 
piness  doth  seldom  endure  to  the  end,  seeing 
every  violent  prosperity,  if  it  prevent  not  altera 
tion  by  an  untimely  death,  grows  to  be  unpros- 
perous  at  last :  for  if  it  happen  that  by  a  change 
of  government  this  banished  and  depressed  sect 
f^et  strength,  and  so  bear  up  again,  then  these 
zealous  men,  so  fierce  in  opposition  before,  are 


condemned,  their  very  names  are  hateful,  and  all 
their  glory  ends  in  obloquy. 

In  that  Diomedes  is  said  to  be  murdered  by 
his  host,  it  gives  us  to  understand  that  the  dif 
ference  of  religion  breeds  deceit  and  treachery, 
even  among  nearest  acquaintance. 

Now  in  that  lamentation  and  mourning  was 
not  tolerated  but  punished;  it  puts  us  in  mind, 
that  let  there  be  never  so  nefarious  an  act  done, 
yet  there  is  some  place  left  for  commiseration 
and  pity,  that  even  those  that  hate  offences  should 
yet  in  humanity  commiserate  offenders  and  pity 
their  distress,  it  being  the  extremity  of  evil  when 
mercy  is  not  suffered  to  have  commerce  with 
misery.  Yea,  even  in  the  cause  as  well  of 

'  religion  as  impiety,  many  men  may  be  noted  and 
observed  to  have  been  compassionate.  But  on 
the  contrary  the  complaints  and  moans  of  Dio- 

|  medes'  followers,  that  is,  of  men  of  the  same 
sect  and  opinion,  are  wont  to  be  shrill  and  loud, 
like  swans,  or  the  birds  of  Diomedes.  In  whom 

'  also  that  part  of  the  allegory  is  excellent,  to  sig- 

t  nify,  that  the  last  words  of  those  that  suffer  death 
for  religion,  like  the  songs  of  dying  swans,  do 
wonderfully  work  upon  the  minds  of  men,  and 
strike  and  remain  a  long  time  in  their  senses  and 
memories. 

D^DALUS,  OR  MECHANIC. 

MECHANICAL  wisdom  and  industry,  and  in  it 
unlawful  science  perverted  to  wrong  ends,  is 
shadowed  by  the  ancients  under  the  person  of 
Daedalus,  a  man  ingenious,  but  execrable.  This 
Daedalus,  for  murdering  his  fellow  servant  that 
emulated  him,  being  banished,  was  kindly  enter 
tained,  during  his  exile,  in  many  cities  and  prin 
ces'  courts :  for  indeed  he  was  the  raiser  and 
builder  of  many  goodly  structures,  as  well  in 
honour  of  the  gods,  as  the  beauty  and  magnifi 
cence  of  cities,  and  other  public  places,  but  for 
his  works  of  mischief  he  is  most  notorious.  It 
is  he  that  framed  the  engine  which  Pasiphae  used 
to  satisfy  her  lust  in  company  with  a  bull,  so  that 
by  his  wretched  industry  and  pernicious  device, 
that  monster  Minotaur,  the  destruction  of  so  many 
hopeful  youths,  took  his  accursed  and  infamous 
beginning;  and  studying  to  cover  and  increase 
one  mischief  with  another,  for  the  security  and 
|  preservation  of  this  monster  he  invented  and  built 
|  a  labyrinth,  a  work  for  intent  and  use  most  nefa- 
|  nous  and  wicked,  for  skill  and  workmanship, 
]  famous  and  excellent.  Afterwards,  that  he  might 
not  be  noted  only  for  works  of  mischief,  but  be 
sought  after  as  well  for  remedies,  as  for  instru 
ments  of  destruction,  he  was  the  author  of  that 
ingenious  device  concerning  the  clue  of  thread, 
by  which  the  labyrinth  was  made  passable  with 
out  any  let.  This  Dfedalus  was  persecuted  by 
Minos  with  great  severity,  diligence,  and  inquiry, 
but  he  always  found  the  means  to  avoid  and 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


301 


escape  his  tyranny.  Lastly,  he  taught  his  son 
Icarus  to  fly,  hut  the  novice,  in  ostentation  of 
this  art,  soaring  too  high,  fell  into  the  sea,  and 
was  drowned. 

The  parable  seems  to  be  thus :  in  the  begin 
ning  of  it  may  be  noted  that  kind  of  envy  or 
emulation  that  lodgeth,  and  wonderfully  sways 
and  domineers  amongst  excellent  artificers,  there 
being  no  kind  of  people  more  reciprocally  tor 
mented  with  bitter  and  deadly  hatred  than  they. 

The  banishment  also  of  Daedalus,  a  punish 
ment  inflicted  on  him  against  the  rules  of  policy 
and  providence,  is  worth  the  noting :  for  artificers 
have  this  prerogative  to  find  entertainment  and 
welcome  in  all  countries,  so  that  exile  to  an  ex 
cellent  workman  can  hardly  be  termed  a  punish 
ment,  whereas  other  conditions,  and  states  of  life 
can  scarce  live  out  of  their  own  country.  The 
admiration  of  artificers  is  propagated  and  in 
creased  in  foreign  and  strange  nations,  seeing  it 
is  a  natural  and  inbred  disposition  of  men  to 
value  their  own  countrymen,  in  respect  of  me 
chanical  works,  less  than  strangers. 

Concerning  the  use  of  mechanical  arts,  that 
which  follows  is  plain.  The  life  of  man  is  much 
beholden  to  them,  seeing  many  things,  conducing 
to  the  ornament  of  religion,  to  the  grace  of  civil 
discipline,  and  to  the  beautifying  of  all  human 
kind,  extracted  out  of  their  treasuries  :  and  yet  not 
withstanding,  from  the  same  magazine  or  store 
house  are  produced  instruments  both  of  lust  and 
death ;  for  to  omit  the  wiles  of  bands,  we  well 
know  how  far  exquisite  poisons,  warlike  engines, 
and  such  like  mischiefs,  the  effects  of  mechanical 
inventions,  do  exceed  the  Minotaur  himself  in 
malignity  and  savage  cruelty. 

Moreover  that  of  the  labyrinth  is  an  excellent 
allegory,  whereby  is  shadowed  the  nature  of  me 
chanical  sciences,  for  all  such  handicraft  works  as 
are  more  ingenious  and  accurate  may  be  com 
pared  to  a  labyrinth,  in  respect  of  subtilty  and 
divers  intricate  passages,  and  in  other  plain  resem 
blances,  which  by  the  eye  of  judgment  can  hardly 
be  guided  and  discerned,  but  only  by  the  line  of 
experience. 

Neither  is  it  impertinently  added,  that  he  which 
invented  the  intricate  nooks  of  the  labyrinth,  did 
also  show  the  commodity  of  the  clue :  for  me 
chanical  arts  are  of  ambiguous  use,  serving  as 
well  for  hurt  as  for  remedy,  and  they  have  in  a 
manner  power  both  to  loose  and  bind  themselves. 

Unlawful  trades,  and  so  by  consequence  arts 
themselves,  are  often  persecuted  by  Minos,  that  is 
by  laws,  which  do  condemn  them,  and  prohibit 
men  to  use  them.     Nevertheless  they  are  hid  and 
retained  everywhere,  finding  lurking  holes  and 
places  of  receipt,  which  was  well  observed  by  Ta 
citus  of  the  mathematicians  and  figure-flingers  of 
his  time,  in  a  thing  not  so  much  unlike ;  "  Genus  [ 
hominum  quod  in  civitate  nostra  semper  et  re-  j 
tinebitur  et  vetabitur."    There  is  a  kind  of  men  j 


that  will  always  abide  in  our  city,  though  always 
forbidden.  And  yet  notwithstanding  unlawful 
and  curious  arts  of  what  kind  soever,  in  tract  of 
time,  when  they  cannot  perform  what  they  pro 
mise,  do  fall  from  the  good  opinion  that  was  held 
of  them,  no  otherwise  than  Icarus  fell  down  from 
the  skies,  they  grow  to  be  contemned  and  scorned, 
and  so  perish  by  too  much  ostentation.  And  to 
say  the  truth,  they  are  not  so  happily  restrained 
by  the  reins  of  law  as  bewrayed  by  their  own 
vanity. 

ERICTHONIUS,  OR  IMPOSTURE. 

THE  poets  fable  that  Vulcan  solicited  Minerva 
for  her  virginity,  and  impatient  of  denial,  with  an 
inflamed  desire,  offered  her  violence,  but  in  strug 
gling  his  seed  fell  upon  the  ground,  whereof  came 
Ericthonius,  whose  body  from  the  middle  upward 
was  of  a  comely  and  apt  proportion,  but  his  thighs 
and  legs  like  the  tail  of  an  eel,  small  and  deformed. 
To  which  monstrosity,  he  being  conscious,  became 
the  first  inventor  of  the  use  of  chariots,  whereby 
that  part  of  his  body  which  was  well  proportioned 
might  be  seen,  and  the  other  which  was  ugly  and 
uncomely  might  be  hid. 

This  strange  and  prodigious  fiction  may  seem  to 
show  that  art,  which,  for  the  great  use  it  hath  of  fire, 
is  shadowed  by  Vulcan,  although  it  labour  by 
much  striving  with  corporeal  substances  to  force 
nature,  and  to  make  her  subject  to  it,  she  being  for 
her  industrious  works  rightly  represented  by  Mi 
nerva,  yet  seldom  or  never  attains  the  end  it  aims 
at,  but  with  much  ado  and  great  pains,  wrestling 
as  it  were  with  her,  comes  short  of  its  purpose, 
and  produceth  certain  imperfect  births,  and  lame 
works,  fair  to  the  eye  but  weak  and  defective  in 
use,  which  many  impostors,  with  much  subtilty 
and  deceit,  set  to  view,  and  carry  about,  as  it  were 
in  triumph,  as  may  for  the  most  part  be  noted  in 
chemical  productions,  and  other  mechanical  sub- 
tilties  and  novelties,  especially  when,  rather  prose 
cuting  their  intent  than  reclining  their  errors,  they 
rather  strive  to  overcome  nature  by  force ;  than  sue 
for  her  embracements  by  due  obsequiousness  and 
observance. 

DEUCALION,  OR  RESTITUTION. 

THE  poets  say  that  the  people  of  the  old  world 
being  destroyed  by  a  general  deluge,  Deucalion 
and  Pyrrha  were  only  left  alive;  who  praying 
with  fervent  and  zealous  devotion,  that  they 
might  know  by  what  means  to  repair  mankind, 
had  answer  from  an  oracle  that  they  should  obtain 
what  they  desired,  if  taking  the  bones  of  their  mo 
ther  they  cast  them  behind  their  backs ;  which  at 
first  struck  them  with  great  amazement  and  de 
spair,  seeing,  all  things  being  defaced  by  the  flood, 
it  would  be  an  endless  work  to  find  their  mother's 
sepulchre,  but  at  length  they  understood  that  by 
2C 


302 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


bones,  the  stones  of  the  earth,  seeing  the  earth 
was  the  mother  of  all  things,  were  signified  by  the 
oracle. 

This  fable  seems  to  reveal  a  secret  of  nature, 
and  to  correct  an  error  familiar  to  men's  conceits  ; 
for  through  want  of  knowledge  men  think  that 
things  may  take  renovation  and  restoration  from 
theirputrefaction  and  dregs,  no  otherwise  than  the 
phoenix  from  the  ashes,  which  in  no  case  can  be 
admitted,  seeing  such  kind  of  materials,  when  they 
have  fulfilled  their  periods,  are  unapt  for  the  be 
ginnings  of  such  things  :  we  must  therefore  look 
back  to  more  common  principles. 

NEMESIS,  OR  THE  VICISSITUDE 
OF  THINGS. 

NEMESIS  is  said  to  be  a  goddess  venerable  unto 
all,  but  to  be  feared  of  none  but  potentates  and  For 
tune's  favourites.  She  is  thought  to  be  the  daughter 
of  Oceanus  and  Nox.  She  is  portrayed  with  wings 
on  her  shoulders,  and  on  her  head  a  coronet,  bear 
ing  in  her  right  hand  a  javelin  of  ash,  and  in  her 
left  a  pitcher,  with  the  similitudes  of  ^Ethiopians 
engraven  on  it :  and  lastly,  she  is  described  sitting 
on  a  hart. 

The  parable  may  be  thus  unfolded.  Her  name 
Nemesis,  doth  plainly  signify  revenge  or  retribu 
tion,  her  office  and  administration  being,  like  a 
tribune  of  the  people,  to  hinder  the  constant  and 
perpetual  felicity  of  happy  men,  and  to  interpose 
her  word,  "veto,"  I  forbid  the  continuance  of  it; 
that  is  not  only  to  chastise  insolency,  but  to  inter 
mix  prosperity,  though  harmless,  and  in  a  mean, 
with  the  vicissitudes  of  adversity,  as  if  it  were  a 
custom,  that  no  mortal  man  should  be  admitted  to 
the  table  of  the  gods  but  for  sport.  Truly  when  I 
read  that  chapter,  wherein  Cains  Plinius  hath  col 
lected  his  misfortunes  and  miseries  of  Augustus 
Caesar,  whom  of  all  men  I  thought  the  most  happy, 
who  had  also  a  kind  of  art  to  use  and  enjoy  his 
fortune,  and  in  whose  mind  might  be  noted 
neither  pride,  nor  lightness,  nor  niceness,  nor 
disorder,  nor  melancholy,  as  that  he  had  ap 
pointed  a  time  to  die  of  his  own  accord,  I  then 
deemed  this  goddess  to  be  great  and  powerful, 
to  whose  altar  so  worthy  a  sacrifice  as  this  was 
drawn. 

The  parents  of  this  goddess  were  Oceanus  and 
Nox,  that  is,  the  vicissitude  of  things,  and  divine 
judgment  obscure  and  secret :  for  the  alteration  of 
things  are  aptly  represented  by  the  sea,  in  respect 
of  the  continual  ebbing  and  flowing  of  it,  and  hid 
den  providence  is  well  set  forth  by  the  night :  for 
even  the  nocturnal  Nemesis,  seeing  human  judg 
ment  differs  much  from  divine,  was  seriously  oh 
served  by  the  heathen. 

Virgil,  ^neid,  lib.  2. 

" -Cadit  et  Ripheus  justissirnus  unus, 

Qni  fuit  ex  Teucris,  et  servantissimus  aequi. 
Diis  aliter  visum " 


That  day,  by  Grcekish  force,  was  Ripheus  slain, 
So  just  and  strict  observer  of  the  law, 
As  Troy,  within  her  walls,  did  not  contain 
A  better  man  :  Yet  God  then  good  it  saw. 

She  is  described  with  wings,  because  the 
changes  of  things  are  so  sudden,  as  that  they  are 
seen,  before  foreseen ;  for  in  the  records  of  all 

3S,  we  find  it  for  the  most  part  true,  that  great 
potentates  and  wise  men  have  perished  by  those 
misfortunes  which  they  most  contemned ;  as  may 
be  observed  in  Marcus  Cicero,  who  being  admo 
nished  by  Decius  Brutus  of  Octavius  Caesar's  hy 
pocritical  friendship  and  hollow-heartedness  to 
wards  him,  returns  this  answer,  "  Te  autem,  mi 
Brute,  sicut  debeo,  amo,  quod  istud  quicquid  est 
nugarum  me  scire  voluisti."  I  must  ever  acknow 
ledge  myself,  dear  Brutus,  beholden  to  thee,  in 
love,  for  that  thou  hast  been  so  careful  to  acquaint 
me  with  that  which  I  esteem  as  a  needless  trifle 
to  be  doubted. 

Nemesis  is  also  adorned  with  a  coronet,  to  show 
the  envious  and  malignant  disposition  of  the  vul 
gar,  for  when  fortune's  favourites  and  great  poten 
tates  come  to  ruin,  then  do  the  common  people  re 
joice,  setting,  as  it  were,  a  crown  upon  the  head  of 
revenge. 

The  javelin  in  her  right  hand  points  at  those 
whom  she  actually  strikes  and  pierceth  thorough. 

And  before  those  whom  she  destroys  not  in 
their  calamity  and  misfortune,  she  ever  presents 
that  black  and  dismal  spectacle  in  her  left  hand  ; 
for  questionless  to  men  sitting  as  it  were  upon 
the  pinnacle  of  prosperity,  the  thoughts  of  death, 
and  painfulness  of  sickness  and  misfortunes, 
perfidiousness  of  friends,  treachery  of  foes, 
change  of  estate,  and  such  like,  seem  as  ugly  to 
the  eye  of  their  meditations  as  those  Ethiopians 
pictured  in  Nemesis's  pitcher.  Virgil,  in  describ 
ing  the  battle  of  Actium,  speaks  thus  elegantly 
of  Cleopatra. 

li  lloizina  in  mcdiis  patrio  vocat  agmina  sistro 
\ec  dum  ethin  geininos  a  tergo  respicit  angues." 

The  queen  amidst  this  hurly-burly  stands, 
And  with  her  country  timbrel  calls  her  bands  ; 
Not  spying  yet,  where  crawled  behind  her  back, 
Two  deadly  snakes  with  venom  speckled  black. 

But  not  long  after,  which  way  soever  she 
turned,  troops  of  Ethiopians  were  still  before  her 
eyes. 

Lastly,  it  is  wisely  added  that  Nemesis  rides 
upon  a  hart,  because  a  hart  is  a  most  lively  crea 
ture.  And  albeit,  it  may  be,  that  such  as  are  cut 
off  by  death  in  their  youth  prevent  and  shun  the 
power  of  Nemesis  ;  yet  doubtless  such,  whose 
prosperity  and  power  continue  long,  are  made  sub 
ject  unto  her,  and  lie,  as  it  were,  trodden  under  her 
feet. 

ACHELOUS,  OR  BATTLE. 

IT  is  a  fable  of  antiquity,  that  when  Hercules 
and  Achelous  as  rivals  contended  for  the  marriage 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


303 


of  Dejanira,  the  matter  drew  them  to  combat, 
wherein  Achelous  took  upon  him  many  divers 
shapes,  for  so  was  it  in  his  power  to  do,  and 
amongst  others,  transforming-  himself  into  the 
likeness  of  a  furious  wild  bull,  assaults  Hercules 
and  provokes  him  to  fight.  But  Hercules,  for  all 
this,  sticking  to  his  old  human  form,  courageously 
encounters  him,  and  so  the  combat  goes  roundly 
on.  But  this  was  the  event,  that  Hercules  tore 
away  one  of  the  bull's  horns,  wherewith  he  being 
mightily  daunted  and  grieved,  to  ransom  his  horn 
again  was  contented  to  give  Hercules,  in  exchange 
thereof,  the  Amalthean  horn,  or  cornucopia. 

This  fable  hath  relation  unto  the  expeditions 
of  war,  for  the  preparations  thereof  on  the  de 
fensive  part,  which,  expressed  in  the  person  of 
Achelous,  are  very  diverse  and  uncertain.  But 
the  invading  party  is  most  commonly  of  one  sort, 
and  that  very  single,  consisting  of  an  army  by 
land,  or  perhaps  of  a  navy  by  sea.  But  for  a  king 
that  in  his  own  territory  expects  an  enemy,  his 
occasions  are  infinite.  He  fortifies  towns,  he  as 
sembles  men  out  of  the  countries  and  villages, 
he  raiseth  citadels,  he  builds  and  breaks  down 
bridges,  he  disposeth  garrisons,  and  placeth  troops 
of  soldiers  on  passage  of  rivers ;  on  ports,  on 
mountains,  and  ambushes  in  woods,  and  is  busied 
with  a  multitude  of  other  directions,  insomuch 
that  every  day  he  prescribeth  new  forms  and 
orders ;  and  then  at  last  having  accommodated 
all  things  complete  for  defence,  he  then  rightly 
represents  the  form  and  manner  of  a  fierce  fighting 
bull.  On  the  other  side,  the  invader's  greatest 
care  is,  the  fear  to  be  distressed  for  victuals  in  an 
enemy's  country  ;  and  therefore  aflfects  chiefly  to 
hasten  on  battle  :  for  if  it  should  happen,  that  after 
a  field  fight,  he  prove  the  victor,  and  as  it  were 
break  the  horn  of  the  enemy,  then  certainly  this 
follows,  that  his  enemy  being  stricken  with  terror, 
and  abased  in  his  reputation,  presently  bewrays 
his  weakness,  and  seeking  to  repair  his  loss,  retires 
himself  to  some  stronghold,  abandoning  to  the 
conqueror  the  spoil  and  sack  of  his  country  and 
cities  ;  which  may  well  be  termed  a  type  of  the 
Amalthean  horn. 

DIONYSUS,  OR  PASSIONS. 

THEY  say  that  Semele.  Jupiter's  sweetheart, 
having  bound  her  paramour  by  an  irrevocable 
oath  to  grant  her  one  request  which  she  would 
require,  desired  that  he  would  accompany  her  in 
the  same  form  wherein  he  accompanied  Juno : 
which  he  granting,  as  not  able  to  deny,  it  came 
to  pass  that  the  miserable  wench  was  burnt 
with  lightning.  But  the  infant  which  she  bare 
in  her  womb,  Jupiter  the  father  took  out,  and 
kept  it  in  a  gash  which  he  cut  in  his  thigh  till 
the  months  were  complete  that  it  should  be  born. 
This  burden  made  Jupiter  somewhat  to  limp, 
whereupon  the  child,  because  it  was  heavy  and 
troublesome  to  its  father  while  it  lay  in  his  thigh, 


was  called  Dionysus.  Being  born,  was  com 
mitted  to  Proserpina  for  some  years  to  be  nursed, 
and  being  grown  up,  it  had  such  a  maiden-face  as 
that  a  man  could  hardly  judge  whether  it  were  a 
boy  or  girl.  He  was  dead  also,  and  buried  for  a 
time,  but  afterwards  revived  :  being  but  a  youth, 
he  invented  and  taught  the  planting  and  dressing 
of  vines,  the  making  also  and  use  of  wine ;  for 
which,  becoming  famous  and  renowned,  he  sub 
jugated  the  world  even  to  the  uttermost  bounds 
of  India.  He  rode  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  tigers. 
There  danced  about  him  certain  deformed  hob 
goblins  called  Cobali,  Acratus,  and  others,  yea, 
even  the  muses  also  were  some  of  his  followers. 
He  took  to  wife  Ariadne,  forsaken  and  left  by 
Theseus.  The  tree  sacred  unto  him  was  the  ivy. 
He  was  held  the  inventor  and  institutor  of  sacri 
fices  and  ceremonies,  and  full  of  corruption  and 
cruelty.  He  had  power  to  strike  men  with  fury 
or  madness ;  for  it  is  reported,  that  at  the  cele 
bration  of  his  orgies,  two  famous  worthies,  Pen- 
theus  and  Orpheus,  were  torn  in  pieces  by  cer 
tain  frantic  women,  the  one  because  he  got  upon  a 
tree  to  behold  their  ceremonies  in  these  sacrifices, 
the  other  for  making  melody  with  his  harp  ;  and 
for  his  gods,  they  are  in  a  manner  the  same  with 
Jupiter's. 

There  is  such  excellent  morality  couched  in  this 
fable,  as  that  moral  philosophy  affords  not  better  ; 
for  under  the  person  of  Bacchus  is  described  the 
nature  of  affection,  passion,  or  perturbation,  the 
mother  of  which,  though  never  so  hurtful,  is 
nothing  else  but  the  object  of  apparent  good  in 
the  eyes  of  appetite  :  and  it  is  always  conceived 
in  an  unlawful  desire,  rashly  propounded  and  ob 
tained,  before  well  understood  and  considered  ; 
and  when  it  begins  to  grow,  the  mother  of  it, 
which  is  the  desire  of  apparent  good  by  too 
much  fervency,  is  destroyed  and  perisheth  :  ne 
vertheless,  whilst  yet  it  is  an  imperfect  embryo,  it 
is  nourished  and  preserved  in  the  human  soul, 
which  is  as  it  were  a  father  unto  it,  and  represented 
by  Jupiter ;  but  especially  in  the  inferior  part 
thereof,  as  in  a  thigh,  where  also  it  causeth  so 
much  trouble  and  vexation,  as  that  good  determi 
nations  and  actions  are  much  hindered  and  lamed 
thereby :  and  when  it  comes  to  be  confirmed  by 
consent  and  habit,  and  breaks  out  as  it  were 
into  act,  it  remains  yet  a  while  with  Proserpina 
as  with  a  nurse ;  that  is,  it  seeks  corners  and  se 
cret  places,  and  as  it  were,  caves  under  ground, 
until  the  reins  of  shame  and  fear  being  laid  aside 
in  a  pampered  audaciousness,  it  either  takes  the 
pretext  of  some  virtue,  or  becomes  altogether  impu 
dent  and  shameless.  And  it  is  most  .true,  that  every 
vehement  passion  is  of  a  doubtful  sex,  as  being 
nasculinein  the  first  motion,  but  feminine  in  prose 
cution. 

It  is  an  excellent  fiction  that  of  Bacchus's  reviv- 
ng;  for  passions  do  sometimes  seem  to  be  in  a 
dead  sleep,  and  as  it  were,  utterly  extinct;  but 


304 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


we  should  not  think  them  to  be  so  indeed  ;  no, 
though  they  lay  as  it  were  in  their  grave :  for  let 
there  be  but  matter  and  opportunity  offered,  and 
you  shall  see  them  quickly  to  revive  again. 

The  invention  of  wine  is  wittily  ascribed  unto 
him  ;  every  affection  being-  ingenious  and  skilful 
in  finding  out  that  which  brings  nourishment  unto 
it ;  and  indeed,  of  all  things  known  to  men,  wine 
is  most  powerful  and  efficacious  to  excite  and 
kindle  passions  of  what  kind  soever,  as  being  in 
a  manner  common  nurse  to  them  all. 

Again,  his  conquering  of  nations  and  under 
taking  infinite  expeditions  is  an  elegant  device  ; 
for  desire  never  rests  content  with  what  it  hath, 
but  with  an  infinite  and  unsatiable  appetite  still 
covets  and  gapes  after  more. 

His  chariot  also  is  well  said  to  be  drawn  by 
tigers ;  for  as  soon  as  any  affection  shall,  from 
going  afoot,  be  advanced  to  ride  in  a  chariot,  and 
shall  captivate  reason,  and  lead  her  in  a  triumph, 
it  grows  cruel,  untamed,  and  fierce  against  what 
soever  withstands  or  opposeth  it. 

It  is  worth  the  noting  also,  that  those  ridiculous 
hobgoblins  are  brought  in  dancing  about  his  cha 
riot  ;  for  every  passion  doth  cause,  in  the  eyes, 
face,  and  gesture,  certain  indecent  and  ill-seeming, 
apish  and  deformed  motions  ;  so  that  they  who  in 
any  kind  of  passion,  as  in  anger,  arrogancy,  or 
love  seem  glorious  and  brave  in  their  own  eyes, 
do  yet  appear  to  others  misshapen  and  ridiculous. 

In  that  the  muses  are  said  to  be  of  his  company, 
it  shows  that  there  is  no  affection  almost,  which 
is  not  soothed  by  some  art  wherein  the  indulgence 
of  wits  doth  derogate  from  the  glory  of  the  muses, 
who,  when  they  ought  to  be  the  mistresses  of  life, 
are  made  the  waiting-maids  of  affections. 

Again,  when  Bacchus  is  said  to  have  loved 
Ariadne  that  was  rejected  by  Theseus ;  it  is  an 
allegory  of  special  observation ;  for  it  is  most  cer 
tain,  that  passions  always  covet  and  desire  that 
which  experience  forsakes ;  and  they  all  know, 
who  have  paid  dear  for  serving  and  obeying  their 
lusts,  that  whether  it  be  honour,  or  riches,  or  de 
light,  or  glory,  or  knowledge,  or  any  thing  else 
which  they  seek  after,  yet  are  they  but  things  cast 
off,  and  by  divers  men  in  all  ages,  after  experience 
had,  utterly  rejected  and  loathed. 

Neither  is  it  without  a  mystery,  that  the  ivy 
was  sacred  to  Bacchus ;  for  the  application  holds 
first,  in  that  the  ivy  remains  green  in  winter; 
secondly,  in  that  it  sticks  to,  embraceth,  and  over- 
toppeth  so  many  divers  bodies,  as  trees,  walls, 
and  edifices.  Touching  the  first,  every  passion 
doth  by  resistance  and  reluctation,  and  as  it  were 
by  an  antiperistasis,  like  the  ivy  of  the  cold  winter, 
grow  fresh  and  lusty  :  and  as  for  the  other,  every 
predominate  affection  doth  again,  like  the  ivy, 
embrace  and  limit  all  human  actions  and  deter 
minations,  adhering  and  cleaving  fast  unto  them. 
Neither  is  it  a  wonder  that  superstitious  rites  and 
ceremonies  were  attributed  unto  Bacchus,  seeing 


every  giddy-headed  humour  keeps  in  a  mannei 
revel-rout  in  false  religions ;  or  that  the  cause  of 
madness  should  be  ascribed  unto  him,  seeing  every 
affection  is  by  nature  a  short  fury,  which,  if  it  grow 
vehement  and  become  habitual,  concludes  mad 
ness. 

Concerning  the  rending  and  dismembering  of 
Pentheus  and  Orpheus,  the  parable  is  plain,  for 
every  prevalent  affection  is  outrageous  and  severe, 
and  against  curious  inquiry  and  wholesome  and 
free  admonition. 

Lastly,  that  confusion  of  Jupiter  and  Bacchus's 
persons  may  be  well  transferred  to  a  parable, 
seeing  noble  and  famous  acts,  and  remarkable  and 
glorious  merits  do  sometimes  proceed  from  virtue 
and  well  ordered  reason  and  magnanimity,  and 
sometimes  from  a  secret  affection  and  hidden  pas 
sion,  which  are  so  dignified  with  the  celebrity  of 
fame  and  glory,  that  a  man  can  hardly  distinguish 
between  the  acts  of  Bacchus  and  the  gests  of 
Jupiter. 

ATALANTA,  OR  GAIN. 

ATALANTA,  who  was  reputed  to  excel  in  swiftness, 
would  needs  challenge  Hippomenes  at  a  match  in 
running.  The  conditions  of  the  prize  were  these  : 
that  if  Hippomenes  won  the  race,  he  should  espouse 
Atalanta ;  if  he  were  outrun,  that  then  he  should 
forfeit  his  life.  And  in  the  opinion  of  all,  the 
victory  was  thought  assured  of  Atalanta's  side, 
being  famous  as  she  was  for  her  matchless  and 
inconquerable  speed,  whereby  she  had  been  the 
bane  of  many.  Hippomenes  therefore  bethinks 
him  how  to  deceive  her  by  a  trick,  and  in  that 
regard  provides  three  golden  apples  or  balls,  which 
he  purposely  carried  about  him.  The  race  is 
begun,  and  Atalanta  gets  a  good  start  before  him. 
He  seeing  himself  thus  cast  behind,  being  mindful 
of  his  device,  throws  one  of  his  golden  balls  before 
her,  and  yet  not  outright,  but  somewhat  of  the  one 
side,  both  to  make  her  linger  and  also  to  draw  her 
out  of  the  right  course :  she  out  of  a  womanish 
desire,  being  thus  enticed  with  the  beauty  of  the 
golden  apple,  leaving  her  direct  race,  runs  aside 
and  stoops  to  catch  the  ball.  Hippomenes  the 
while  holds  on  his  course,  getting  thereby  a  great 
start,  and  leaves  her  behind  him :  but  she,  by  her 
own  natural  swiftness,  recovers  her  lost  time  and 
gets  before  him  again.  But  Hippomenes  still 
continues  his  sleight,  and  both  the  second  and 
third  times  casts  out  his  balls,  those  enticing  de 
lays  ;  and  so  by  craft,  and  not  by  his  activity, 
wins  the  race  and  victory. 

This  fable  seems  allegorically  to  demonstrate  a 
notable  conflict  betwen  art  and  nature;  for  art, 
signified  by  Atalanta,  in  its  work  if  it  be  not 
letted  and  hindered,  is  far  more  swift  than  nature, 
more  speedy  in  pace,  and  sooner  attains  the  end  it 
aims  at,  which  is  manifest  almost  in  every  effect ; 
as  you  may  see  in  fruit  trees,  whereof  those  that 
grow  of  a  kernel  are  long  ere  they  bear,  but  such 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


305 


as  are  grafted  on  a  stock  a  great  deal  sooner. 
You  may  see  it  in  clay,  which  in  the  generation 
of  stones,  is  long  ere  it  become  hard,  but  in  the 
burning  of  bricks  is  very  quickly  effected.  Also 
in  moral  passages  you  may  observe  that  it  is  along 
time  ere,  by  the  benefit  of  nature,  sorrow  can  be 
assuaged,  and  comfort  attained;  whereas  philoso 
phy,  which  is,  as  it  were,  art  of  living,  tarries  not 
the  leisure  of  time,  but  doth  it  instantly  and  out  of 
hand  ;  and  yet  this  prerogative  and  singular  agility 
of  art  is  hindered  by  certain  golden  apples,  to  the 
infinite  prejudice  of  human  proceedings  :  for  there 
is  not  any  one  art  or  science  which  constantly 
perseveres  in  a  true  and  lawful  course,  till  it  come 
to  the  proposed  end  or  mark,  but  ever  and  anon 
makes  stops  after  good  beginnings,  leaves  the  race, 
and  turns  aside  to  profit  and  commodity,  like 
Atalanta. 

"  Declinat  cursus,  aurumque  volubile  tollit." 

Who  doth  her  course  forsake, 
The  rolling  gold  doth  take. 

And  therefore  J^l  ^»Tonder  that  art  hath  not 
the  power  to  conql^B  ^Pe  '  an^  ^Y  Pact  or  ^aw  °f 
conquest  to  kill  ancHMstroy  her ;  but  on  the  con 
trary,  it  falls  out  that  art  becomes  subject  to  na 
ture,  and  yields  the  obedience  as  of  a  wife  to  her 
husband. 


PROMETHEUS,  OR  THE  STATE  OF 
MAN. 

THE  ancients  deliver  that  Prometheus  made  a 
man  of  clay,  mixed  with  certain  parcels  taken 
from  divers  animals,  who,  studying  to  maintain 
this  his  work  by  art,  that  he  might  not  be  ac 
counted  a  founder  only  but  a  propagator  of  human 
kind,  stole  up  to  heaven  with  a  bundle  of  twigs, 
which  he  kindled  at  the  chariot  of  the  sun,  came 
down  again,  and  communicated  it  with  men  ;  and 
yet  they  say  that  notwithstanding  this  excellent 
work  of  his,  he  was  requited  with  ingratitude  in  a 
treacherous  conspiracy;  for  they  accused  both 
him  and  his  invention  to  Jupiter,  which  was  not 
so  taken  as  was  meet  it  should,  for  the  information 
was  pleasing  to  Jupiter  and  all  the  gods:  and 
therefore  in  a  merry  mood  granted  unto  men, 
not  only  the  use  of  fire  but  perpetual  youth  also, 
a  boon  most  acceptable  and  desirable.  They, 
being  as  it  were  overjoyed,  did  foolishly  lay  this 
gift  of  the  gods  upon  the  back  of  an  ass,  who,  being 
wonderfully  oppressed  with  thirst  and  near  a  foun 
tain,  was  told  by  a  serpent  which  had  the  custody 
thereof,  that  he  should  not  drink  unless  he  would 
promise  to  give  him  the  burden  that  was  on  his 
back.  The  silly  ass  accepted  the  condition,  and 
so  the  restoration  of  youth,  sold  for  a  draught  of 
water,  passed  from  men  to  serpents.  But  Prome 
theus,  full  of  malice,  being  reconciled  unto  men, 
after  they  were  frustrated  of  their  gift,  but  in  a 
chafe  yet  with  Jupiter,  feared  not  to  use  deceit  in 

VOL.  I.— 39 


sacrifice  ;  for  having  killed  two  bulls,  and  in  one 
of  their  hides  wrapt  up  the  flesh  and  fat  of  them 
both,  and  in  the  other  only  the  bones,  with  a 
great  show  of  religious  devotion  gave  Jupiter  his 
choice,  who,  detesting  his  fraud  and  hypocrisy, 
but  taking  an  occasion  of  revenge,  chose  that 
which  was  stopped  with  bones,  and  so  turning  to 
revenge,  when  he  saw  that  the  insolency  of  Pro 
metheus  would  not  be  repressed  but  by  laying 
some  grievous  affliction  upon  mankind,  in  the 
forming  of  which  he  so  much  bragged  and  boast 
ed,  commanded  Vulcan  to  frame  a  goodly  beauti 
ful  woman,  which  being  done,  every  one  of  the 
gods  bestowed  a  gift  on  her ;  whereupon  she  was 
called  Pandora.  To  this  woman  they  gave  in  her 
hand  a  goodly  box  full  of  all  miseries  and  calami 
ties,  only  in  the  bottom  of  it  they  put  Hope;  with 
this  box  she  comes  first  to  Prometheus,  thinking 
to  catch  him,  if  peradventure  he  should  accept  it 
at  her  hands,  and  so  open  it;  which  he,  neverthe 
less,  with  good  providence  and  foresight  refused  : 
whereupon  she  goes  to  Epimetheus,  who,  though 
brother  to  Prometheus,  yet  was  of  a  much  differing 
disposition,  and  offers  this  box  unto  him,  who 
without  delay  took  it,  and  rashly  opened  it ;  but 
when  he  saw  that  all  kind  of  miseries  came  flut 
tering  about  his  ears,  being  wise  too  late,  with 
great  speed  and  earnest  endeavour  clapped  on  the 
cover,  and  so  with  much  ado  retained  Hope  sitting 
alone  in  the  bottom  ;  at  last  Jupiter  laying  many 
and  grievous  crimes  to  Prometheus's  charge,  as 
that  he  had  stolen  fire  from  heaven,  that  in  con 
tempt  of  his  majesty  he  sacrificed  a  bull's  hide 
stuffed  with  bones,  that  he  scornfully  rejected  his 
gift,  and  besides  all  this,  that  he  offered  violence 
to  Pallas,  cast  him  into  chains,  and  doomed  him 
to  perpetual  torment;  and  by  Jupiter's  command 
was  brought  to  the  mountain  Caucasus,  and  there 
bound  fast  to  a  pillar  that  he  could  not  stir;  there 
came  an  eagle  also,  that  every  day  sat  tiring  upon 
his  liver  and  wasted  it ;  but  as  much  as  was  eaten 
in  the  day  grew  again  in  the  night,  that  matter  for 
torment  to  work  upon  might  never  decay.  But 
yet  they  say  there  was  an  end  of  this  punishment ; 
for  Hercules  crossing  the  ocean  in  a  cup,  which 
the  sun  gave  him,  came  to  Caucasus,  and  set  Prome 
theus  at  liberty  by  shooting  the  eagle  with  an  arrow. 
Moreover,  in  some  nations  there  were  instituted  in 
the  honour  of  Prometheus,  certain  games  of  lamp- 
bearers,  in  which  they  that  strived  for  the  prize 
were  wont  to  carry  torches  lighted,  which  whoso 
suffered  to  go  out,  yielded  the  place  and  victory 
to  those  that  followed,  and  so  cast  back  themselves, 
so  that  whosoever  came  first  to  the  mark  with  his 
torch  burning  got  the  prize. 

This  fable  demonstrates  and  presseth  many  true 
and  grave  speculations,  wherein  some  things  have 
been  heretofore  well  noted,  others  not  so  much  as 
touched. 

Prometheus  doth  clearly  and  elegantly  signify 
Providence :  for  in  the  universality  of  nature,  the 
2c2 


306 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


fabric  and  constitution  of  man  only  was  by  the 
ancients  picked  out  and  chosen,  and  attributed  unto 
Providence  as  a  peculiar  work.  The  reason  of  it 
seems  to  be,  not  only  in  that  the  nature  of  man  is 
capable,  of  a  mind  and  understanding,  which  is  the 
seat  of  providence,  and  therefore  it  would  seem 
strange  and  incredible,  that  the  reason  and  mind 
should  so  proceed  and  flow  from  dumb  and  deaf 
principals  as  that  it  should  necessarily  be  con 
cluded,  the  soul  of  man  to  be  endued  with  provi 
dence,  not  without  the  example,  intention,  and 
stamp  of  a  greater  providence.  But  this  also  is 
chiefly  propounded,  that  man  is  as  it  were  the 
centre  of  the  world  in  respect  of  final  causes ;  so 
that  if  man  Avere  not  in  nature,  all  things  would 
seem  to  stray  and  wander  without  purpose,  and  like 
scattered  branches,  as  they  say,  without  inclination 
to  their  end  ;  for  all  things  attend  on  man ;  and  he 
makes  use  of,  and  gathers  fruit  from  all  creatures ; 
for  the  revolutions  and  periods  of  stars  make  both 
for  the  distinctions  of  times  and  the  distribution 
of  the  world's  light.  Meteors  also  are  referred  to 
presages  of  tempests ;  and  winds  are  ordained  as 
well  for  navigation  as  for  turning  of  mills  and 
other  engines ;  and  plants,  and  animals  of  what 
kind  soever,  are  useful  either  for  men's  houses  and 
places  of  shelter,  or  for  raiment,  or  for  food,  or 
medicine,  or  for  ease  of  labour,  or  in  a  word  for 
delight  and  solace;  so  that  all  things  seern  to 
work,  not  for  themselves  but  for  man. 

Neither  is  it  added  without  consideration  that 
certain  particles  were  taken  from  divers  living  crea 
tures,  and  mixed  and  tempered  with  that  clayic 
mass,  because  it  is  most  true,  that  of  all  things 
comprehended  within  the  compass  of  the  universe, 
man  is  a  thing  most  mixed  and  compounded, 
insomuch,  that  he  was  well  termed  by  the  ancients 
a  little  world  ;  for  although  the  chy mists  do,  with 
too  much  curiosity,  take  and  wrest  the  elegancy  of 
this  word  Microcosm  to  the  letter,  contending  to 
find  in  man  all  minerals,  all  vegetables,  and  the 
rest,  or  any  thing  that  holds  proportion  with  them ; 
yet  this  proposition  remains  sound  and  whole,  that 
the  body  of  man,  of  all  material  beings,  is  found  to 
be  most  compounded  and  most  organical,  whereby 
it  is  endued  and  furnished  with  most  admirable  vir 
tues  and  faculties  :  and  as  for  simple  bodies,  their 
powers  are  not  many,  though  certain  and  violent, 
as  existing  without  being  weakened,  diminished, 
or  stinted,  by  mixture;  for  the  multiplicity  and 
excellency  of  operation  have  their  residence  in 
mixture  and  composition,  and  yet,  nevertheless, 
man  in  his  originals  seems  to  be  a  thing  unarmed 
and  naked,  and  unable  to  help  itself,  as  needing 
the  aid  of  many  things;  therefore  Prometheus 
made  haste  to  find  out  fire,  which  suppeditates 
and  yields  comfort  and  help  in  a  manner  to  all 
human  wants  and  necessities ;  so  that  if  the  soul 
be  the  form  of  forms,  and  if  the  hand  be  the  in 
strument  of  instruments,  fire  deserves  well  to  be 
called  the  succour  of  succours,  or  the  help  of  helps, 


which  infinite  ways  affords  aid  and  assistance  to 
all  labours  and  mechanical  arts,  and  to  the  sci 
ences  themselves. 

The  manner  of  stealing  this  fire  is  aptly  described 
even  from  the  nature  of  things  :  it  was,  they  say, 
by  a  bundle  of  twigs  held  to  touch  the  chariot 
of  the  sun;  for  twigs  are  used  in  giving  blows  or 
stripes,  to  signify  clearly  that  fire  is  engendered 
by  the  violent  percussion  and  mutual  collision  of 
bodies,  by  which  their  material  substances  are 
attenuated  and  set  in  motion,  and  prepared  to  re 
ceive  the  heat  of  influence  of  the  heavenly  bodies ; 
and  so  in  a  clandestine  manner,  and  as  it  were 
by  stealth,  may  be  said  to  take  and  snatch  fire 
from  the  chariot  of  the  sun. 

There  follows  next  a  remarkable  part  of  the  pa 
rable,  that  men,  instead  of  gratulation  and  thanks 
giving,  were  angry,  and  expostulated  the  matter 
with  Prometheus,  insomuch  that  they  accused  both 
him  and  his  invention  unto  Jupiter,  which  was  so 
acceptable  unto  him,  that  he  augmented  their  for 
mer  commodities  with  a  a«|^bpunty.  Seems  it 
not  strange  that  ingratit^^^^»:ds  the  author  of 
a  benefit,  a  vice  that  ij  a  manner  contains  all 
other  vices,  should  find  siWW^probation  and  re 
ward  ?  No,  it  seems  to  be  otherwise ;  for  the 
meaning  of  the  allegory  is  this,  that  men's  outcries 
upon  the  defects  of  nature  and  art,  proceed  from 
an  excellent  disposition  of  the  mind,  and  turn  to 
their  good ;  whereas  the  silencing  of  them  is  hate 
ful  to  the  gods,  and  redounds  not  so  much  to  their 
profit ;  for  they  that  infinitely  extol  human  nature, 
or  the  knowledge  they  possess,  breaking  out  into 
a  prodigal  admiration  of  that  they  have  and  enjoy, 
adoring  also  those  sciences  they  profess,  would 
have  them  be  accounted  perfect ;  they  do  first  of 
all  show  little  reverence  to  the  divine  nature,  by 
equalizing,  in  a  manner,  their  own  defects  with 
God's  perfection.  Again  ;  they  are  wonderful 
injurious  to  men,  by  imagining  they  have  attained 
the  highest  step  of  knowledge,  resting  themselves 
contented,  seek  no  further.  On  the  contrary, 
such  as  bring  nature  and  art  to  the  bar  with  ac 
cusations  and  bills  of  complaint  against  thum,  are 
indeed  of  more  true  and  moderate  judgments  ;  for 
they  are  ever  in  action,  seeking  always  to  find  out 
new  inventions.  Which  makes  me  much  to  won 
der  at  the  foolish  and  inconsiderate  disprsitions 
of  some  men,  who,  making  themselves  bond 
slaves  to  the  arroganc}T  of  a  few,  have  the  phi 
losophy  of  the  Peripatetics,  containing  only  a 
portion  of  Grecian  wisdom,  and  that  but  a  small 
one  neither,  in  so  great  esteem,  that  they  hold  it 
not  only  an  unprofitable,  but  a  suspicious  and 
almost  heinous  thing,  to  lay  any  imputation  of 
imperfection  upon  it.  I  approve  rather  of  Em- 
pedocles's  opinion,  who,  like  a  madman,  and  of 
Democritus's  judgment,  who  with  great  inode- 
j  ration,  complained  how  that  all  things  w^re  in 
volved  in  a  mist,  that  we  knew  nothing,  th.it  we 
discerned  nothing,  that  truth  was  drowned  in  the 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


307 


depths  of  obscurity,  and  that  false  things  were 
wonderfully  joined  and  intermixed  with  true,  as  for 
the  new  academy,  that  exceeded  all  measure,  than 
of  the  confident  and  pronunciative  school  of  Aris 
totle.  Let  men  therefore  be  admonished,  that  by  ac 
knowledging  the  imperfection  of  nature  and  art, 
they  are  grateful  to  the  gods,  and  shall  thereby  ob 
tain  new  benefits  and  greater  favours  attheir  boun 
tiful  hands ;  and  the  accusation  of  Prometheus,  their 
author  and  master,  though  bitter  and  vehement, 
will  conduce  more  to  their  profit,  than  to  be  effuse 
in  the  congratulation  of  his  invention ;  for,  in  a  word , 
the  opinion  of  having  enough,  is  to  be  accounted 
one  of  the  greatest  causes  of  having  too  little. 

Now,  as  touching  the  kind  of  gift  which  men 
are  said  to  have  received  in  reward  of  their  ac 
cusation,  to  wit,  an  ever-fading  flower  of  youth, 
it  is  to  show,  that  the  ancients  seemed  not  to  de 
spair  of  attaining  the  skill,  by  means  and  medi 
cines,  to  put  off  old  age,  and  to  prolong  life,  but 
this  to  be  numbered  rather  among  such  things, 
having  been  once  happily  attained  unto,  are  now, 
through  men's  n^fl^Lpce  and  carelessness,  utter 
ly  perished  amMj^Hphan  among  such  as  have 
been  always  demecrand  never  granted  ;  for  they 
signify  and  show,  that  by  affording  the  true  use 
of  fire,  and  by  a  good  and  stern  accusation  and 
conviction  of  the  errors  of  art,  the  divine  bounty 
is  not  wanting  unto  men  in  the  obtaining  of  such 
gifts;  but  men  are  wanting  to  themselves  in  lay 
ing  this  gift  of  the  gods  upon  the  back  of  a  silly 
slow-paced  ass,  which  may  seem  to  be  experience, 
a  stupid  thing,  and  full  of  delay;  from  whose 
leisurely  and  snail-like  pace  proceeds  that  com 
plaint  of  life's  brevity,  and  art's  length  ;  and  to 
say  the  truth,  I  am  of  this  opinion,  that  those  two 
faculties,  dogmatical  and  empirical,  are  not  as 
yet  well  joined  and  coupled  together,  but  as  new 
gifts  of  the  gods  imposed  either  upon  philosophical 
abstractions,  as  upon  a  flying  bird,  or  upon  slow 
and  dull  experience,  as  upon  an  ass.  And  yet  me- 
thinks  I  would  not  entertain  an  ill  conceit  of  this 
ass,  if  it  meet  not  for  the  accidents  of  travel  and 
thirst :  for  I  am  persuaded,  that  whoso  constantly 
goes  on,  by  the  conduct  of  experience,  as  by  a 
certain  rule  and  method,  and  not  covets  to  meet 
with  such  experiments  by  the  way,  as  conduce 
either  to  gain  or  ostentation,  to  obtain  which,  he 
must  be  fain  to  lay  down  and  sell  this  burden, 
may  prove  no  unfit  porter  to  bear  this  new  addition 
of  divine  munificence. 

Now,  in  that  this  gift  is  said  to  pass  from  men 
to  serpents,  it  may  seem  to  be  added  to  the  fable 
for  ornament  sake,  in  a  manner,  unless  it  were 
inserted  to  shame  men,  that  having  the  use  of  that 
celestial  fire  and  of  so  many  arts,  are  not  able  to 
get  unto  themselves  such  things  as  nature  itself 
bestows  upon  many  other  creatures. 

But  that  sudden  reconciliation  of  men  to  Prome 
theus,  after  they  were  frustrated  of  their  hopes, 
contains  a  profitable  and  wise  note,  showing  the 


levity  and  temerity  of  men  in  new  experiments  : 
for  if  they  have  not  present  success  answerable 
to  their  expectation,  with  too  sudden  haste  desist 
from  that  they  began,  and  with  precipitancy  re 
turning  to  their  former  experiments,  are  reconciled 
to  them  again. 

The  state  of  man,  in  respect  of  arts,  and  such 
things  as  concern  the  intellect,  being  now  de 
scribed,  the  parable  passeth  to  religion  :  for,  after 
the  planting  of  arts,  follows  the  setting  of  divine 
principles,  which  hypocrisy  hath  overspread  and 
polluted.  By  that  twofold  sacrifice  therefore  is 
elegantly  shadowed  out  the  persons  of  a  true  re 
ligious  man  and  a  hypocrite.  In  the  one  is  con 
tained  fatness,  which  by  reason  of  the  inflammation 
and  fumes  thereof,  is  called  the  portion  of  God, 
by  which  his  affection  and  zeal,  tending  to  God's 
glory,  and  ascending,  towards  heaven,  is  signi 
fied.  In  him  also  are  contained  the  bowels  of 
charity,  and  in  him  is  found  that  good  and  whole 
some  flesh ;  whereas  in  the  other  there  is  nothing 
but  dry  and  naked  bones,  which  nevertheless  do 
stuff  up  the  hide,  and  make  it  appear  like  a  fair 
and  goodly  sacrifice  :  by  this  may  be  well  meant 
those  external  and  vain  rites,  and  empty  cere 
monies,  by  which  men  do  oppress  and  fill  up  the 
sincere  worship  of  God;  things  composed  rather 
for  ostentation  than  any  way  conducing  to  true 
piety.  Neither  do  they  hold  it  sufficient  to  offer 
such  mock-sacrifices  unto  God ;  except  they  also 
lay  them  before  him,  as  if  he  had  chosen  and  be 
spoke  them.  Certainly  the  prophet,  in  the  per 
son  of  God,  doth  thus  expostulate  concerning  this 
choice :  Esa.  Iviii.  5,  "  Num  tandem  hoc  est 
illud  jejunium,  quod  ELEGI,  ut  homo  animam 
suam  in  diem  unum  aflligat,  et  caput  instar  jun- 
ceti  demittatl"  Is  it  such  a  fast  that  I  have 
chosen,  that  a  man  should  afflict  his  soul  for  a 
day,  and  to  bow  down  his  head  like  a  bulrush] 

Having  now  touched  the  state  of  religion,  the 
parable  converts  itself  to  the  manners  and  con 
ditions  of  human  life:  and  it  is  a  common  but 
apt  interpretation  by  Pandora,  to  be  meant  plea 
sure  and  voluptuousness,  which,  when  the  civil 
life  is  pampered  with  too  much  art,  and  culture, 
and  superfluity,  is  engendered,  as  it  were,  by  the 
efficacy  of  fire,  and  therefore  the  work  of  volup 
tuousness  is  attributed  unto  Vulcan,  who  also 
himself  doth  represent  fire.  From  this  do  infinite 
miseries,  together  with  too  late  repentance,  proceed 
and  overllow  the  minds,  and  bodies,  and  fortunes 
of  men;  and  that  not  only  in  respect  of  particular 
estates,  but  even  over  kingdoms  and  common 
wealths  :  for  from  this  fountain  have  wars,  tu 
mults,  and  tyrannies  derived  their  original. 

But  it  would  be  worth  the  labour  to  consider 
how  elegantly  and  proportionably  this  fable  doth 
delineate  two  conditions,  or,  as  I  may  say,  two 
tables  or  examples  of  human  life,  under  the  person 
of  Prometheus  or  Kpimetheus :  for  they  that  are 
of  Epimetheus's  sect  are  improvident,  not  fore- 


308 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


seeing1  what  may  come  to  pass  hereafter,  esteem 
ing  that  best  which  seems  most  sweet  for  the 
present ;  whence  it  happens  that  they  are  over 
taken  with  many  miseries,  difficulties,  and  cala 
mities,  and  so  lead  their  lives  almost  in  perpetual 
affliction;  but  yet,  notwithstanding,  they  please 
their  fancy,  and  out  of  ignorance  of  the  passages 
of  things,  do  entertain  many  vain  hopes  in  their 
mind,  whereby  they  sometimes,  as  with  sweet 
dreams,  solace  themselves,  and  sweeten  the  mise 
ries  of  their  life.  But  they  that  are  Prome- 
theus's  scholars,  are  men  endued  with  prudence, 
foreseeing  things  to  come,  warily  shunning  and 
avoiding  many  evils  and  misfortunes.  But  to 
these  their  good  properties  they  have  this  also  an 
nexed,  that  they  deprive  themselves  and  defraud 
their  genius  of  many  lawful  pleasures,  and  divers 
recreations ;  and,  which  is  worse,  they  vex  and 
torment  themselves  with  cares  and  troubles,  and 
intestine  fears ;  for  being  chained  to  the  pillar  of 
necessity,  they  are  afflicted  with  innumerable  cogi 
tations,  which,  because  they  are  very  swift,  may 
be  fitly  compared  to  an  eagle ;  and  those  grip 
ing,  and,  as  it  were  gnawing  and  devouring  the 
Hver,  unless  sometimes  as  it  were  by  night,  it 
may  be  they  get  a  little  recreation  and  ease  of 
rnind,  but  so,  as  that  they  are  again  suddenly  as 
saulted  with  fresh  anxieties  and  fears. 

Therefore   this  benefit  happens  to  but  a  very 
few  of  either  condition,  that  they  should  retain 
the  commodities  of  providence,  and   free   them 
selves  from  the  miseries  of  care  and  perturbation; 
neither  indeed  can  any  attain  unto  it  but  by  the 
assistance  of  Hercules,  that  is,  fortitude  and  con 
stancy  of  mind,  which  is  prepared  for  every  event, 
and   armed   in  all   fortunes  ;  foreseeing  without 
fear,   enjoying  without    loathing,   and   suffering 
without    impatience.      It    is   worth    the   noting 
also,  that  this  virtue  was  not  natural  to  Prome 
theus,  but  adventitial,  and  from  the  indulgence 
of  another,  for  no  inbred  and  natural  fortitude  is 
able  to  encounter  with  these  miseries.     Moreover 
this  virtue  was  received  and  brought  unto  him  j 
from  the  remotest  part  of  the  ocean,  and  from  the  | 
sun,  that  is,  from  wisdom  as  from  the  sun  ;  and  i 
i'rom    the   meditation   of  inconstancy,  or  of  the  | 
waters  of  human  life,  as  from  the  sailing  upon  i 
the  ocean;  which  two,  Virgil  hath  well  conjoined  ! 
in  these  verses : 

"  Felix  qui  potuit  rerum  cognoscere  causas: 
Quique  nietus  omnes,  et  inexorahile  fatiun 
Subjecit  pedibus,  strepitumque  Acherontis  avari.  " 

Happy  is  he  that  knows  the  cause  of  things, 
And  that  with  dauntless  courage  treads  upon 
All  fear  and  fates,  relentless  threatenings, 
And  greedy  throat  of  roaring  Acheron. 


Moreover,  it  is  elegantly  added  for  the  consola 
tion  and  confirmation  of  men's  minds,  that  this 
noble  hero  crossed  the  ocean  in  a  cup  or  pan,  lest, 
peradventure,  they  might  too  much  fear  that  the 
straits  and  frailty  of  their  nature  will  not  be  capa 


ble  of  this  fortitude  and  constancy.  Of  which 
very  thing  Seneca  well  conceived,  when  he  said, 
"  Magnum  est  habere  simul  fragilitatem  hominis, 
et  securitatem  Dei."  It  is  a  great  matter  for  hu 
man  frailty  and  divine  security  to  be  one  and  the 
selfsame  time,  in  one  and  the  selfsame  subject. 

But  now  we  are  to  step  back  a  little  again  to 
that,  which  by  premeditation  we  past  over,  lest  a 
breach  should  be  made  in  those  things  which 
were  so  linked  together :  that  therefore  which  I 
could  touch  here  is  that  last  crime  imputed  to 
Prometheus,  about  seeking  to  bereave  Minerva 
of  her  virginity :  for,  questionless,  it  was  this 
heinous  offence  that  brought  that  punishment  of 
devouring  his  liver  upon  him ;  which  is  nothing 
else  but  to  show,  that  when  we  are  puffed  up  with 
too  much  learning  and  science,  they  go  about  of 
tentimes  to  make  even  divine  oracles  subject  to 
sense  and  reason,  whence  most  certainly  follows 
a  continual  distraction,  and  restless  griping  of  the 
mind  ;  we  must  therefore,  with  a  sober  and  hum 
ble  judgment,  distinguish  b^^een  humanity  and 
divinity,  and  between  the  o^H^of  sense  and  the 
mysteries  of  faith,  unless  a^H^ical  religion  and 
a  commentitious  philosophise  pleasing  unto  us. 

Lastly,  it  remains  that  we  say  something  of 
the  games  of  Prometheus,  performed  with  burn 
ing  torches,  which  again  hath  reference  to  arts 
and  sciences,  as  that  fire,  in  whose  memory  and 
celebration  these  games  were  instituted ;  and  it 
contains  in  it  a  most  wise  admonition,  that  the 
perfection  of  sciences  is  to  be  expected  from 
succession,  not  from  the  nimbleness  and  prompt 
ness  of  one  only  author:  for  they  that  are  nim 
blest  in  course,  and  strongest  in  contention,  yet 
happily  have  not  the  luck  to  keep  fire  still  in  their 
torch,  seeing  it  may  be  as  well  extinguished  by 
running  too  fast  as  by  going  too  slow.  And  this 
running  and  contending  with  lamps  seems  long 
since  to  be  intermitted,  seeing  all  sciences  seem 
even  now  to  flourish  most  in  their  first  authors, 
Aristotle,  Galen,  Euclid,  and  Ptolemy;  succes 
sion  having  neither  effected,  nor  almost  attempted 
any  great  matter ;  it  were  therefore  to  be  wished 
that  these  games,  in  honour  of  Prometheus,  or 
human  nature,  were  again  restored ;  and  that 
matters  should  receive  success  by  combat  and 
emulation,  and  not  hang  upon  any  one  man's 
sparkling  and  shaking  torch.  Men  therefore  are 
to  be  admonished  to  rouse  up  their  spirits,  and 
try  their  strengths  and  turns,  and  not  refer  all  to 
the  opinions  and  brains  of  a  few. 

And  thus  have  I  delivered  that  which  I  thought 
good  to  observe  out  of  this  so  well  known  and 
common  fable ;  and  yet  I  will  not  deny  but  that 
there  may  be  some  things  in  it  which  have  an  ad 
mirable  consent  with  the  mysteries  of  Christian 
religion ;  and  especially  that  sailing  of  Hercules 
in  a  cup  to  set  Prometheus  at  liberty,  seems  to 
represent  an  image  of  the  divine  word,  coming  in 
flesh,  as  in  a  frail  vessel,  to  redeem  man  from  the 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


309 


slavery  of  hell.  But  I  have  interdicted  my  pen 
all  liberty  in  this  kind  lest  I  should  use  strange 
fire  at  the  altar  of  the  Lord. 


SCYLLA  AND  ICARUS,  OR  THE  MID 
DLE  WAY. 

MEDIOCRITY,  or  the  middle-way,  is  most  com 
mended  in  moral  actions;  in  contemplative  sci 
ences  not  so  celebrated,  though  no  less  profitable 
and  commodious;  but  in  political  employments 
to  be  used  with  great  heed  and  judgment.  The 
ancients  by  the  way  prescribed  to  Icarus,  noted 
the  mediocrity  of  manners ;  and  by  the  way  be 
tween  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  so  famous  for  dif 
ficulty  and  danger,  the  mediocrity  of  intellectual 
operations. 

Icarus  being  to  cross  the  sea  by  flight,  was  com 
manded  by  his  father  that  he  should  fly  neither 
too  high  nor  too  low,  for  his  wings  being  joined 
with  wax,  if  he  should  mount  too  high,  it  was  to 
be  feared  lest  the  wax  would  melt  by  the  heat  of 
the  sun,  and  if  too^jw,  lest  misty  vapours  of  the 
sea  would  make  iF.tess  tenacious  :  but  he  in  a 
youthful  jollity  soaring  too  high,  fell  down  head 
long  and  perished  in  the  water. 

The  parable  is  easy  and  vulgar :  for  the  way 
of  virtue  lies  in  a  direct  path  between  excess  and 
defect.  Neither  is  it  a  wonder  that  Icarus 
perished  by  excess,  seeing  that  excess  for  the 
most  part  is  the  peculiar  fault  of  youth,  as  defect 
is  of  age ;  and  yet  of  two  evil  and  hurtful  ways, 
youth  commonly  make  choice  of  the  better,  de 
fect  being  always  accounted  worst :  for  whereas 
excess  contains  some  sparks  of  magnanimity, 
and,  like  a  bird,  claims  kindred  of  the  heavens, 
defect  only  like  a  base  worm  crawls  upon  the 
earth.  Excellently  therefore  said**Heraclitus, 
"  Lumen  siccum,  optima  anima ;"  a  dry  light  is 
die  best  soul ;  for  if  the  soul  contract  moisture 
from  the  earth  it  becomes  degenerate  altogether. 
Again,  on  the  other  side,  there  must  be  modera 
tion  used,  that  this  light  be  subtilized  by  this 
laudable  siccity,  and  not  destroyed  by  too  much 
fervency  :  and  thus  much  every  man  for  the  most 
part  knows. 

Now  they  that  would  sail  between  Scylla  and 
Charybdis  must  be  furnished  as  well  with  the 
skill  as  prosperous  success  in  navigation :  for  if 
their  ships  fall  into  Scylla  they  are  split  on  the 
rocks;  if  into  Charybdis  they  are  swallowed  up 
of  a  gulf. 

The  moral  of  this  parable,  which  we  will  but 
briefly  touch,  although  it  contain  matter  of  infinite 
contemplation,  seems  to  be  this,  that  in  every  art 
and  science,  and  so  in  their  rules  and  axioms, 
there  be  a  mean  observed  between  the  rocks  of  dis 
tinctions  and  the  gulfs  of  universalities,  which 
two  are  famous  for  the  wrecks  both  of  wits 
and  arts. 


SPHYNX,  OR  SCIENCE. 

THEY  say  that  Sphynx  was  a  monster  of  divers 
forms,  as  having  the  face  and  voice  of  a  virgin, 
the  wings  of  a  bird,  and  the  talons  of  a  griffin. 
His  abode  was  in  a  mountain  near  the  city  of 
Thebes;  he  kept  also  the  highways,  and  used  to 
lie  in  ambush  for  travellers,  and  so  to  surprise 
them:  to  whom,  being  in  his  power,  he  pro 
pounded  certain  dark  and  intricate  riddles,  which 
were  thought  to  have  been  given  and  received  of 
the  Muses.  Now  if  these  miserable  captives 
were  not  able  instantly  to  resolve  and  interprei 
them,  in  the  midst  of  their  difficulties  and  doubts, 
she  would  rend  and  tear  them  in  pieces.  The 
country  groaning  a  long  time  under  this  calamity, 
the  Thebans  at  last  propounded  the  kingdom  as 
a  reward  unto  him  that  could  interpret  the  riddles 
of  Sphynx,  there  being  no  other  way  to  destroy 
her.  Wliereupon  (Edipus,  a  man  of  piercing 
and  deej)  judgment,  but  maimed  and  lame  by 
reason  of  holes  bored  in  his  feet,  moved  with  the 
hope  of  so  great  a  reward,  accepted  the  condition, 
and  determined  to  put  it  to  the  hazard,  and  so 
with  an  undaunted  and  bold  spirit,  presented 
himself  before  the  monster,  who  asked  him  what 
creature  that  was,  whicli  after  his  birth  went  first 
upon  four  feet,  next  upon  two,  then  upon  three, 
and  lastly  upon  four  feet  again;  answered  forth 
with  that  it  was  man,  which  in  his  infancy,  im 
mediately  after  birth,  crawls  upon  all  four,  scarce 
venturing  to  creep,  and  not  long  after  stands  up 
right  upon  two  feet,  then  growing  old  he  leans 
upon  a  staff,  wherewith  he  supports  himself;  so 
that  he  may  seem  to  have  three  feet,  and  at  last, 
in  decrepid  years,  his  strength  failing  him,  he 
falls  grovelling  again  upon  four,  and  lies  bedrid. 
Having  therefore  by  this  true  answer  gotten  the 
victory,  he  instantly  slew  this  Sphynx,  and,  lay 
ing  her  body  upon  an  ass,  leads  it  as  it  were  in 
triumph;  and  so,  according  to  the  condition,  was 
created  king  of  the  Thebans. 

This  fable  contains  in  it  no  less  wisdom  than 
elegancy,  and  it  seems  to  point  at  science,  espe 
cially  that  which  is  joined  with  practice,  for  sci 
ence  may  not  absurdly  be  termed  a  monster,  as 
being  by  the  ignorant  and  rude  multitude  always 
held  in  admiration.  It  is  diverse  in  shape  and 
figure,  by  reason  of  the  infinite  variety  of  sub 
jects,  wherein  it  is  conversant.  A  maiden  face 
and  voice  is  attributed  unto  it  for  its  gracious 
countenance  and  volubility  of  tongue.  Wings 
are  added,  because  sciences  and  their  inventions 
do  pass  and  fly  from  one  to  another,  as  it  were, 
in  a  moment,  seeing  that  the  communication  of 
science  is  as  the  kindling  of  one  light  at  another. 
Elegantly  also  it  is  feigned  to  have  sharp  and 
hooked  talons,  because  the  axioms  and  argu 
ments  of  science  do  so  fasten  upon  the  mind, 
and  so  strongly  apprehend  and  hold  it,  as  that  it 


310 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


stir  not  or  evade,  which  is  noted  also  by  the  Di 
vine  Philosopher,  Eccl.  xii.  11  :"  Verba  sapien- 
tum,"  saith  he,  "  sunt  tanquam  aculei  et  veluti 
clavi  in  altum  defixi."  The  words  of  the  wise  are 
like  goads,  and  like  nails  driven  far  in. 

Moreover,  all  science  seems  to  be  placed  in 
«teep  and  high  mountains ;  as  being  thought  to 
be  a  lofty  and  high  thing,  looking  down  upon 
ignorance  with  a  scornful  eye.  It  may  be  ob 
served  and  seen  also  a  great  way,  and  far  in  com 
pass,  as  things  set  on  the  tops  of  mountains. 

Furthermore,  science  may  well  be  feigned  to 
beset  the  highways,  because  which  way  soever 
we  torn  in  this  progress  and  pilgrimage  of  human 
life,  we  meet  with  some  matter  or  occasion  offered 
for  contemplation. 

Sphynx  is  said  to  have  received  from  the 
muses  divers  difficult  questions  and  riddles,  and 
to  propound  them  unto  men,  which  remaining 
with  the  muses,  are  free,  it  may  be  from  savage 
cruelty ;  for  so  long  as  there  is  no  other  end  of 
study  and  meditation,  than  to  know,  the  under 
standing  is  not  racked  and  imprisoned,  but  enjoys 
freedom  and  liberty,  and  even  in  doubts  and 
variety  finds  a  kind  of  pleasure  and  delectation ; 
but  when  once  these  enigmas  are  delivered  by 
the  muses  to  Sphynx,  that 'is,  to  practice,  so  that 
it  be  solicited  and  urged  by  action,  and  election, 
and  determination,  then  they  begin  to  be  trouble 
some  and  raging;  and  unless  they  be  resolved 
and  expedited,  they  do  wonderfully  torment  and 
vex  the  minds  of  men,  distracting,  and  in  a  man 
ner  rending  them  into  sundry  parts. 

Moreover,  there  is  always  a  twofold  condition 
propounded  with  Sphynx's  enigmas :  to  him  that 
doth  not  expound  them,  distraction  of  mind  ;  and 
to  him  that  doth,  a  kingdom ;  for  he  that  knows 
that  which  he  sought  to  know,  hath  attained  the 
end  he  aimed  at,  and  every  artificer  also  com 
mands  over  his  work. 

Of  Sphynx's  riddles,  they  are  generally  two 
kinds;  some  concerning  the  nature  of  things, 
others  touching  the  nature  of  man.  So  also 
there  are  two  kinds  of  empires,  as  rewards  to 
those  that  resolve  them.  The  one  over  nature, 
the  other  over  men;  for  the  proper  and  chief  end 
of  true  natural  philosophy  is  to  command  and 
sway  over  natural  beings ;  as  bodies,  medicines, 
mechanical  works,  and  infinite  other  things; 
although  the  school,  being  content  with  such 
things  as  are  offered,  and  priding  itself  with 
speeches,  doth  neglect  realities  and  works,  tread 
ing  them  as  it  were  under  foot.  But  that  enigma 
propounded  to  GBdipus,  by  means  of  which  he 
obtained  the  Theban  empire,  belonged  to  the 
nature  of  man :  for  whosoever  doth  thoroughly 
consider  the  nature  of  man,  may  be  in  a  manner 
the  contriver  of  his  own  fortune,  and  is  born  to 
command,  which  is  well  spoken  of  the  Roman 
arts: 


"Tu  regere  imperio  populos,  Romane  memento 
Hte  tibi  erunt  artes " 

Roman  remember,  that  with  sceptre's  awe 

Thy  realms  thou  rul'st.     These  arts  let  be  thy  rule. 

It  was,  therefore,  very  apposite,  that  Augustus 
Caesar,  whether  by  premeditation,  or  by  a  chance, 
bare  a  sphynx  in  his  signet ;  for  he,  if  ever  any, 
was  famous  not  only  in  political  government,  but 
in  all  the  course  of  his  life  ;  he  happily  discovered 
many  new  enigmas  concerning  the  nature  of 
man,  which  if  he  had  not  done  with  dexterity 
and  promptness,  he  had  oftentimes  fallen  into 
imminent  danger  and  destruction. 

Moreover,  it  is  added  in  the  fable,  that  the 
body  of  Sphynx,  when  she  was  overcome,  was 
laid  upon  an  ass;  which  indeed  is  an  elegant 
fiction,  seeing  there  is  nothing  so  acute  and  ab 
struse,  but,  being  well  understood  and  divulged, 
may  be  apprehended  by  a  slow  capacity. 

Neither  is  it  to  be  omitted,  that  Sphynx  was 
overcome  by  a  man  lame  in  his  feet;  for  when 
men  are  too  swift  of  foot,  and  too  speedy  of  pace 
in  hasting  to  Sphynx's  eniggisj*,  it  comes  to  pass, 
that,  she  getting  the  upper  haTid,  thoir  wits  and 
minds  are  rather  distracted  by  disputations,  than 
that  ever  they  come  to  command  by  works  and 
effects. 


PROSERPINA,  OR  SPIRIT. 

PLUTO,  they  say,  being  made  king  of  the  infer 
nal  dominions,  by  that  memorable  division,  was 
in  despair  of  ever  attaining  any  one  of  the  supe 
rior  goddesses  in  marriage,  especially  if  he  should 
venture  to  court  them,  either  with  words,  or  with 
any  amorous  behaviour;  so  that  of  necessity  he 
was  to  lay  some  plot  to  get  one  of  them  by  ra 
pine  :  taking,  therefore,  the  benefit  of  opportunity, 
he  caught  up  Proserpina,  the  daughter  of  Ceres, 
a  beautiful  virgin,  as  she  was  gathering  Narcissus 
flowers  in  the  meadows  of  Sicily,  and  carried  her 
away  with  him  in  his  coach  to  the  subterranean 
dominions,  where  she  was  welcomed  with  such 
respect,  as  that  she  was  styled  the  Lady  of  Dis. 
But  Ceres,  her  mother,  when  in  no  place  she 
should  find  this  her  only  beloved  daughter,  in  a 
sorrowful  humour  and  distracted  beyond  measure, 
went  compassing  the  whole  earth  with  a  burning 
torch  in  her  hand,  to  seek  and  recover  this  her 
lost  child.  But  when  she  saw  that  all  was  in 
vain,  supposing  peradventure  that  she  was  carried 
to  hell,  she  importuned  Jupiter  with  many  tears 
and  lamentations,  that  she  might  be  restored  unto 
her  again :  and  at  length  prevailed  thus  far,  that 
if  she  had  tasted  of  nothing  in  hell,  she  should 
have  leave  to  bring  her  from  thence.  Which 
condition  was  as  good  as  a  denial  to  her  petition, 
Proserpina  having  already  eaten  three  grains  of 
a  pomegranate.  And  yet  for  all  this,  Ceres  gave 
not  over  her  suit,  but  fell  to  prayers  and  moan? 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


311 


afresh  ;  wherefore  it  was  at  last  granted  that,  the 
year  being  divided,  Proserpina  should,  by  alternate 
courses,  remain  one  six  months  with  her  husband, 
and  other  six  months  with  her  mother.  Not  long 
after  this,  Theseus  and  Perithous,  in  an  over- 
hardy  adventure,  attempted  to  fetch  her  from 
Pluto's  bed,  who,  being  weary  with  travel  and 
sitting  down  upon  a  stone  in  hell  to  rest  them 
selves,  had  not  the  power  to  rise  again,  but  sat 
there  forever.  Proserpina  therefore  remained 
queen  of  hell,  in  whose  honour  there  was  this 
great  privilege  granted ;  that,  although  it  were 
enacted  that  none  that  went  down  to  hell  should 
have  the  power  ever  to  return  from  thence ;  yet 
was  this  singular  exception  annexed  to  this  law, 
that  if  any  presented  Proserpina  with  a  golden 
bough,  it  should  be  lawful  for  him  to  go  and 
come  at  his  pleasure.  Now  there  was  but  one 
only  such  a  bough  in  a  spacious  and  shady  grove, 
which  was  not  a  plant  neither  of  itself,  but  bud 
ded  from  a  tree  of  another  kind,  like  a  rope  of  gum, 
which  being  plucked  off,  another  would  instantly 
spring  out. 

This  fable  seems  to  pertain  to  nature,  and  to 
dive  into  that  rich  and  plentiful  efficacy  and  va 
riety  of  subalternal  creatures,  from  whom  what 
soever  we  have  is  derived,  and  to  them  doth 
again  return. 

By  Proserpina,  the  ancients  meant  that  ethe 
real  spirit,  which  being  separated  from  the  upper 
globe,  is  shut  up  and  detained  under  the  earth,  re 
presented  by  Pluto,  which  the  poet  well  express- 
thus  : 

"Sive  recens  tellus,  seductaque  nuper  ab  alto 
JEthers,  cognati  retinebat  semina  cceli." 

Whether  the  youngling  Tellus  (that  of  late 
Was  from  the  high-rear'd  aether  separate) 
Did  yet  contain  her  teeming  womb  within 
The  living  seeds  of  heaven,  her  nearest  kin. 

This  spirit  is  feigned  to  be  rap  ted  by  the  earth, 
because  nothing  can  withhold  it,  when  it  hath 
time  and  leisure  to  escape.  It  is  therefore  caught 
and  stayed  by  a  sudden  contraction,  no  otherwise 
than  if  a  man  should  go  about  to  mix  air  with 
water,  which  can  be  done  by  no  means,  but  by  a 
speedy  and  rapid  agitation,  as  may  be  seen  in 
froth,  wherein  the  air  is  rapted  by  the  water. 

Neither  is  it  inelegantly  added  that  Proserpina 
was  rapt  as  she  was  gathering  Narcissus  flowers 
in  the  valleys,  because  Narcissus  hath  his  name 
from  slowness  or  stupidity  :  for,  indeed,  then  is 
this  spirit  most  prepared  and  fitted  to  be  snatched 
by  terrestrial  matter,  when  it  begins  to  be  coagu 
lated,  and  become  as  it  were  slow. 

Rightly  is  Proserpina  honoured  more  than  any 
of  the  other  god's  bed-fellows,  in  being  styled  the 
Lady  of  Dis,  because  this  spirit  doth  rule  and 
sway  all  things  in  those  lower  regions,  Pluto 
abiding  stupid  and  ignorant. 

This  spirit,  the  power  celestial,  shadowed  by 
Ceres,  strives  with  infinite  sedulity,  to  recover 


and  get  again :  for  that  brand  or  burning  torch 
of  aether  which  Ceres  carried  in  her  hand,  doth 
doubtless  signify  the  sun,  which  enlighteneth  the 
whole  circuit  of  the  earth,  and  would  be  of  the 
greatest  moment  to  recover  Proserpina,  if  pos 
sibly  it  might  be. 

But  Proserpina  abides  still,  the  reason  of  which 
is  accurately  and  excellently  propounded  in  the 
condition  between  Jupiter  and  Ceres:  for  first  it 
is  most  certain  there  are  two  ways  to  keep  spirit 
in  solid  and  terrestrial  matter :  the  one  by  constipa 
tion  and  obstruction,  which  is  mere  imprisonment 
and  constraint ;  the  other  by  administration  or  pro 
portionable  nutriment,  which  it  receives  willingly 
and  of  its  own  accord  ;  for  after  that  the  included 
spirit  begins  to  feed  and  nourish  itself,  it  makes 
no  haste  to  be  gone,  but  is,  as  it  were,  linked  to  its 
earth :  and  this  is  pointed  at  by  Proserpina  her 
eating  of  pomegranate ;  which,  if  she  had  not 
done,  she  had  long  since  been  recovered  by  Ceres 
with  her  torch,  compassing  the  earth.  Now,  as 
concerning  that  spirit  which  is  in  metals  and 
minerals,  it  is  chiefly  perchance  restrained  by  so 
lidity  of  mass :  but  that  which  is  in  plants  and 
animals  inhabits  a  porous  body,  and  hath  open 
passage  to  be  gone  in  a  manner  as  it  lists,  were  it 
not  that  it  willingly  abides  of  its  own  accord,  by 
reason  of  the  relish  it  finds  in  its  entertainment. 
The  second  condition  concerning-  the  six  months' 
custom,  it  is  no  other  than  an  elegant  description 
of  the  division  of  the  year,  seeing  this  spirit  mixed 
with  the  earth  appears  above  ground  in  vegetable 
bodies  during  the  summer  months,  and  in  the 
winter  sinks  down  again. 

Now  as  concerning  Theseus  and  Perithous, 
and  their  attempt  to  bring  Proserpina  quite  away ; 
the  meaning  of  it  is,  that  it  oftentimes  comes  to 
pass  that  some  more  subtle  spirits  descending 
with  divers  bodies  to  the  earth,  never  come  to 
suck  of  any  subalteran  spirit,  whereby  to  unite 
it  unto  them,  and  so  to  bring  it  away.  But,  on 
the  contrary,  are  coagulated  themselves,  and  never 
rise  more,  that  Proserpina  should  be  by  that  means 
augmented  with  inhabitants  and  dominion. 

All  that  we  can  say  concerning  that  sprig  of  gold 
is  hardly  able  to  defend  us  from  the  violence  of 
the  chymists,  if  in  this  regard  they  set  upon  us, 
seeing  they  promise  by  that  their  elixir  to  effect 
golden  mountains,  and  the  restoring  of  natural 
bodies,  as  it  were  from  the  portal  of  hell.  But, 
concerning  chymistry,  and  those  perpetual  suitors 
for  that  philosophical  elixir,  we  know  certainly 
that  their  theory  is  without  grounds,  and  we  sus 
pect  that  their  practice  also  is  without  certain  re 
ward.  And  therefore,  omiting  these,  of  this  last 
part  of  the  parable,  this  is  my  opinion,  I  am  in 
duced  to  believe  by  many  figures  of  the  ancients, 
|  that  the  conservation  and  restoration  of  natural 
!  bodies,  in  some  sort,  was  not  esteemed  by  them 
as  a  thing  impossible  to  be  attained,  but  as  a  thing 
!  abstruse  and  full  of  difficulties,  and  so  they  seem 


312 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


to  intimate  in  this  place,  when  they  report  that  |  like  the  grapes  ill  pressed ;  from  which,  though 
this  one  only  sprig  was  found  among  infinite  other    some  liquor  were  drawn,  yet  the  best  was  left  be- 


trees  in  a  huge  and  thick  wood,  which  they  feign 
ed  to  be  of  gold,  because  gold  is  the  badge  of 
perpetuity,  and  to  be  artificially  as  it  were  insert 
ed,  because  this  effect  is  to  be  rather  hoped  for 
from  art,  than  from  any  medicine,  or  simple  or  na 
tural  means. 


METIS,   OR   COUNSEL. 

THE  ancient  poets  report  that  Jupiter  took  Me 
tis  to  wife,  whose  name  doth  plainly  signify  coun 
sel,  and  that  she  by  him  conceived.  Which  wher 
he  found,  not  tarrying  the  time  of  her  deliverance 
devours  both  her  and  that  which  she  went  withal 
by  which  means  Jupiter  himself  became  with 
child,  and  was  delivered  of  a  wondrous  birth 
for  out  of  his  head  or  brain  came  forth  Pallas 
armed. 

The  sense  of  this  fable,  which  at  first  appre 
hension  may  seem  monstrous  and  absurd,  con 
tains  in  it  a  secret  of  state,  to  wit,  with  what  po 
licy  kings  are  wont  to  carry  themselves  towards 
their  counsellors,  whereby  they  may  not  only  pre 
serve  their  authority  and  majesty  free  and  entire, 
but  also  that  it  may  be  the  more  extolled  and  dig 
nified  of  the  people  :  for  kings  being  as  it  were  tied 
and  coupled  in  a  nuptial  bond  to  their  counsellors, 
do  truly  conceive  that  communicating  with  them 
about  the  affairs  of  greatest  importance,  do  yet  de 
tract  nothing  from  their  own  majesty.  But  when 
any  matter  comes  to  be  censured  or  decreed,  which 
is  a  birth,  there  do  they  confine  and  restrain  the 
liberty  of  their  counsellors ;  lest  that  which  is 
done  should  seem  to  be  hatched  by  their  wisdom 
and  judgment.  So  as  at  last  kings,  except  it  be 
in  such  matters  as  are  distasteful  and  maligned, 
which  they  always  will  be  sure  to  put  off  from 
themselves,  do  assume  the  honour  and  praise  of 
all  matters  that  are  ruminated  in  council,  and  as  it 
were,  formed  in  the  womb,  whereby  the  resolu 
tion  and  execution,  which,  because  it  proceeds 
from  power  and  implies  necessity,  is  elegantly 
shadowed  under  the  figure  of  Pallas  armed,  shall 
seem  to  proceed  wholly  from  themselves.  Nei 
ther  sufficeth  it,  that  it  is  done  by  the  authority  of 
the  king,  by  his  mere  will  and  free  applause,  ex 
cept  withal,  this  be  added  and  appropriated  as  to 
issue  out  of  his  own  head  or  brain,  intimating, 
that  out  of  his  own  judgment,  wisdom,  and  ordi 
nance,  it  was  only  invented  and  derived. 

THE  SIRENS,  OR  PLEASURES. 

THE  fable  of  the  Sirens  seems  rightly  to  have 
been  applied  to  the  pernicious  allurements  of  plea 
sure,  but  in  a  very  vulgar  and  gross  manner. 
And,  therefore,  to  me  it  appears,  that  the  wisdom 
of  the  ancients  have,  with  a  farther  reach  or  in 
sight,  strained  deeper  matter  out  of  them,  not  un- 


hind.  These  Sirens  are  said  to  be  the  daughters 
of  Achelous  and  Terpsichore  one  of  the  muses, 
who  in  their  first  being  were  winged,  but  after 
rashly  entering  into  contention  with  the  muses, 
were  by  them  vanquished  and  deprived  of  their 
wings :  of  whose  plucked  out  feathers  the  muses 
made  themselves  coronets,  so  as  ever  since  that 
time  all  the  muses  have  attired  themselves  with 
plumed  heads,  except  Terpsichore  only,  that  was 
mother  to  the  Sirens.  The  habitation  of  the  Si 
rens  was  in  certain  pleasant  islands,  from  whence 
as  soon  as  out  of  their  watch-tower  they  disco 
vered  any  ships  approaching,  with  their  sweet 
tunes  they  would  first  entice  and  stay  them,  and 
having  them  in  their  power  would  destroy  them. 
Neither  was  their  song  plain  and  single,  but  con 
sisting  of  such  variety  of  melodious  tunes,  so  fitting 
and  delighting  the  ears  that  heard  them,  as  that  it 
ravished  and  betrayed  all  passengers :  and  so 
great  were  the  mischiefs  they  did,  that  these  isles 
of  the  Sirens,  even  as  far  off  as  man  can  ken 
them,  appeared  all  over  white  with  the  bones  of 
unburied  carcasses.  For  the  remedying  of  this 
misery  a  double  means  was  at  last  found  out,  the 
one  by  Ulysses,  the  other  by  Orpheus.  Ulysses, 
to  make  experiment  of  his  device,  caused  all  the 
ears  of  his  company  to  be  stopped  with  wax,  and 
made  himself  to  be  bound  to  the  mainmast,  with 
special  commandment  to  his  mariners  not  to  be 
loosed,  albeit  himself  should  require  them  so  to 
do.  But  Orpheus  neglected  and  disdained  to  be 
so  bound,  with  a  shrill  and  sweet  voice  singing 
praises  of  the  gods  to  his  harp,  suppressed  the 
songs  of  the  Sirens,  and  so  freed  himself  from 
their  danger. 

This  fable  hath  relation  to  men's  manners,  and 
contains  in  it  a  manifest  and  most  excellent  para- 
">le  :  for  pleasures  do  for  the  most  proceed  out  of 
;he  abundance  and  superfluity  of  all  things,  and 
also  out  of  the  delights  and  jovial  contentments 
of  the  mind :  the  which  are  wont  suddenly,  as  it 
were  with  winged  enticements  to  ravish  and  rap 
mortal  men.  But  learning  and  education  brings 
t  so  to  pass,  as  that  it  restrains  and  bridles  man's 
nind,  making  it  so  to  consider  the  ends  and 
events  of  things,  as  that  it  clips  the  wings  of  plea- 
;ure.  And  this  was  greatly  to  the  honour  and 
enown  of  the  muses  ;  for  after  that,  by  some  ex- 
imple,  it  was  made  manifest  that  by  the  power  of 
)hilosophy  vain  pleasures  might  grow  contempt- 
ble;  it  presently  grew  to  great  esteem,  as  a  thing 
hat  could  raise  and  elevate  the  mind  aloft,  that 
;eemed  to  be  base  and  fixed  to  the  earth,  make  the 
agitations  of  the  men,  which  do  ever  reside  in  the 
lead,  to  be  sethereal,  and  as  it  were  winged.  But 
hat  the  mother  of  the  Sirens  was  left  to  her 
eet,  and  without  wings,  that  no  doubt  is  no  other 
wise  meant  than  of  light  and  superficial  learning, 
appropriated  and  defined  only  to  pleasures,  as 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


313 


were  those  which  Petronius  devoted  himself  unto 
after  he  had  received  his  fatal  sentence  ;  and, 
having  his  foot  as  it  were  upon  the  threshold  of 
death,  sought  to  give  himself  all  delightful  con 
tentments  ;  insomuch,  as  when  he  had  caused  con 
solatory  letters  to  be  sent  him,  he  would  peruse 
none  of  them,  as  Tacitus  reports,  that  should  give 
him  courage  and  constancy,  but  only  read  fantas 
tical  verses  such  as  these  are. 

*'  Vivamus,  rnea  Lesbia,  atque  atnemus, 
Rmnoresque  senum  severiorum, 
Omnes  un.ius  sestimemus  assis." 
My  Lesbia,  let  us  live  and  love  : 
Though  wayward  dotards  us  reprove, 
Weinh  their  words  light  for  our  behove. 

And  this  also: 

"Jura  series  norint,  et  quid  sit  fasque  nefasque, 
Inquirant  tristes,  legumque  examina  servent. 
Let  doting  grandsires  know  the  law, 
And  right  and  wrong  observe  with  awe  : 
Let  them  in  that  strict  circle  draw. 

This  kind  of  doctrine  would  easily  persuade  to 
take  these  plumed  coronets  from  the  muses,  and 
to  restore  the  wings  again  to  the  Sirens.  These 
Sirens  are  said  to  dwell  in  remote  isles,  for  that 
pleasures  love  privacy  and  retired  places,  shun 
ning  always  too  much  company  of  people.  The 
Sirens'  songs  are  so  vulgarly  understood,  together 
with  the  deceits  and  danger  of  them,  as  that 
they  need  no  exposition.  But  that  of  the  bones 
appearing  like  white  cliffs,  and  decried  afar  off, 
hath  more  acuteness  in  it :  for  thereby  is  signifi 
ed,  that  albeit  the  examples  of  afflictions  be  mani 
fest  and  eminent,  yet  do  they  not  sufficiently 
deter  us  from  the  wicked  enticements  of  pleasures. 

As  for  the  remainder  of  this  parable,  though  it 
be  not  over-mystical,  yet  it  is  very  grave  and  ex 
cellent  :  for  in  it  are  set  out  three  remedies  for 
this  violent  enticing  mischief;  to  wit,  two  from 


philosophy,  and  one  from  religion.  The  first 
means  to  shun  these  inordinate  pleasures  is,  to 
withstand  and  resist  them  in  their  beginnings, 
and  seriously  to  shun  all  occasions  that  are  offer 
ed  to  debauch  and  entice  the  mind,  which  is  signi 
fied  in  that  stopping  of  the  ears ;  and  that  remedy 
is  properly  used  by  the  meaner  and  baser  sort  of 
people,  as  it  were  Ulysses's  followers  or  mari 
ners,  whereas  more  heroic  and  noble  spirits  may 
boldly  converse  even  in  the  midst  of  these  seduc 
ing  pleasures,  if  with  a  resolved  constancy  they 
stand  upon  their  guard  and  fortify  their  minds, 
and  so  take  greater  contentment  in  the  trial  and 
experience  of  this  their  approved  virtue ;  learning 
rather  thoroughly  to  understand  the  follies  and 
vanities  of  those  pleasures  by  contemplation  than 
by  submission.  Which  Solomon  avouched  of 
himself,  when  he  reckoned  up  the  multitude  ot 
those  solaces  and  pleasures  wherein  he  swam, 
doth  conclude  with  this  sentence  : 

"  Sapientia  quoque  perseverabat  mecum." 
Wisdom  also  continued  with  me. 

Therefore  these  heroes  and  spirits  of  this  excel 
lent  temper,  even  in  the  midst  of  these  enticing 
pleasures,  can  show  themselves  constant  and  in 
vincible,  and  are  able  to  support  their  own  vir 
tuous  inclination  against  all  heady  and  forcible 
persuasions  whatsoever;  as  by  the  example  of 
Ulysses,  that  so  peremptorily  interdicted  all  pes 
tilent  counsels  and  flatteries  of  his  companions,  as 
the  most  dangerous  and  pernicious  poisons  to  cap 
tivate  the  mind.  But  of  all  other  remedies  in  this 
case  that  of  Orpheus  is  most  predominant;  for 
they  that  chaunt  and  resound  the  praises  of  the 
gods  confound  and  dissipate  the  voices  and  incan 
tation  of  the  Sirens ;  for  divine  meditations  do  not 
only  in  power  subdue  all  sensual  pleasures,  but 
also  far  exceed  them  in  sweetness  and  delight. 


VOL.  I 40 


CIVIL    HISTORY. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  REIGN  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


To  the  Most  Illustrious  and  Most  Excellent  PRINCE  CHARLES,  Prince  of  Wales,  Duke  of  Cornwall, 

Earl  of  Chester,  £c. 

IT    MAY  PLEASE    YOUR    HIGHNESS, 

IN  part  of  my  acknowledgment  to  your  highness,  I  have  endeavoured  to  do  honour  to  the  memory 
of  the  last  King  of  England  that  was  ancestor  to  the  king  your  father  and  yourself:  and  was  that 
king  to  whom  both  unions  may  in  a  sort  refer,  that  of  the  roses  heing  in  him  consummate,  and  that 
of  the  kingdoms  by  him  begun  :  besides,  his  times  deserve  it.  For  he  was  a  wise  man  and  an  excel 
lent  king  :  and  yet  the  times  were  rou"h,  and  full  of  mutations,  and  rare  accidents.  And  it  is  with 
times  as  it  is  with  ways;  some  are  luore  up-hill  and  down-hill,  and  some  are  more  flat  and  plain; 
and  the  one  is  better  for  the  liver,  and  the  other  fur  the  writer.  I  have  not  flattered  him,  but  took  him 
to  life  as  well  as  I  could,  sitting  so  far  oii,  and  having  no  better  light.  It  is  true  your  highness  hath 
a  living  pattern,  incomparable,  of  the  king  your  father  :  but  it  is  not  amiss  for  you  also  to  see  one 
of  these  ancient  pieces.  God  preserve  your  highness. 

Your  highness's  most  humble  and  devoted  servant, 

FRANCIS  ST.  ALBAN. 


AFTER  that  Richard,  the  third  of  that  name,  king 
in  fact  only,  but  tyrant  both  in  title  and  regiment, 
and  so  commonly  termed  and  reputed  in  all  times 
since,  was,  by  the  divine  revenge  favouring  the 
design  of  an  exiled  man,  overthrown  and  slain  at 
Bosworthfield ;  there  succeeded  in  the  kingdom 
the  Earl  of  Richmond,  thenceforth  styled  Henry 
the  Seventh.  The  king,  immediately  after  the 
victory,  as  one  that  had  been  bred  under  a  devout 
mother,  and  was  in  his  nature  a  great  observer  of 
religious  forms,  caused  "Te  Deum  laudamas"  to 
be  solemnly  sung  in  the  presence  of  the  whole 
army  upon  the  place,  and  was  himself,  with  ge 
neral  applause  and  great  cries  of  joy,  in  a  kind  of 
military  election  or  recognition,  saluted  king. 
Meanwhile  the  body  of  Richard,  after  many  in 
dignities  and  reproaches,  the  "  diriges"  and  obse 
quies  of  the  common  people  towards  tyrants,  was 
obscurely  buried.  For  though  the  king  of  his  no 
bleness  gave  charge  unto  the  friars  of  Leicester 
to  see  an  honourable  interment  to  be  given  to  it, 
yet  the  religious  people  themselves,  being  not  free 
from  the  humours  of  the  vulgar,  neglected  it ; 
wherein  nevertheless  they  did  not  then  incur  any 
man's  blame  or  censure :  no  man  thinking  any 
314 


ignominy  or  contumely  unworthy  of  him  that  had 
been  the  executioner  of  King  Henry  the  Sixth, 
that  innocent  prince,  with  his  own  hands;  the 
contriver  of  the  death  of  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  his 
brother ;  the  murderer  of  his  two  nephews,  one  of 
iTIem  his  lawful  king  in  the  present,  and  the  other 
in  the  future,  failing  of  him ;  and  vehemently  sus 
pected  to  have  been  the  impoisoner  of  his  wife, 
thereby  to  make  vacant  his  bed,  for  a  marriage 
within  the  degrees  forbidden.  And  although  he 
wrere  a  prince  in  military  virtue  approved,  jealous 
of  the  honour  of  the  English  nation,  and  likewise 
a  good  lawT-maker,  for  the  ease  and  solace  of  the 
common  people ;  yet  his  cruelties  and  parricide, 
in  the  opinion  of  all  men,  weighed  down  his  vir 
tues  and  merits ;  and,  in  the  opinion  of  wise  men, 
even  those  virtues  themselves  were  conceived  to 
be  rather  feigned  and  affected  things  to  serve  his 
ambition,  than  true  qualities  ingenerate  in  his  judg 
ment  or  nature.  And  therefore  it  was  noted  by 
j  men  of  great  understanding,  who  seeing  his  after- 
acts  looked  back  upon  his  former  proceedings, 
that  even  in  the  time  of  King  Edward  his  brother, 
he  was  not  without  secret  trains  and  mines  to 
turn  envy  and  hatred  upon  his  brother's  govern- 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


315 


ment ;  as  having  an  expectation  and  a  kind  of  di 
vination,  that  the  king,  by  reason  of  his  many 
disorders,  should  not  be  of  long  life,  but  was  like 
to  leave  his  sons  of  tender  years ;  and  then  he 
knew  well  how  easy  a  step  it  was,  from  the  place 
of  a  protector,  and  first  prince  of  the  blood,  to  the 
crown.  And  that  out  of  this  deep  root  of  ambition 
it  sprang-,  that  as  well  at  the  treaty  of  peace  that 
passed  between  Edward  the  Fourth  and  Lewis  the 
Eleventh  of  France,  concluded  by  interview  of 
both  kings  at  Piqueny,  as  upon  all  other  occasions, 
Richard,  then  Duke  of  Gloucester,  stood  ever 
upon  the  side  of  honour,  raising  his  own  reputa 
tion  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  king  his  brother, 
and  drawing  the  eyes  of  all,  especially  of  the  no- 
bles  and  soldiers,  upon  himself;  as  if  the  king,  by 
his  voluptuous  life  and  mean  marriage,  were  be 
come  effeminate  and  less  sensible  of  honour  and 
reason  of  state  than  was  fit  for  a  king.  And  as 
for  the  politic  and  wholesome  laws  which  were 
enacted  in  his  time,  they  were  interpreted  to  be 
but  the  brocage  of  an  usurper,  thereby  to  woo  and 
win  the  hearts  of  the  people,  as  being  conscious 
to  himself,  that  the  true  obligations  of  sovereign- 
ly  in  him  failed,  and  were  wanting.  But  King 
Henry,  in  the  very  entrance  of  his  reign,  and  the 
instant  of  time  when  the  kingdom  was  cast  into 
his  arms,  met  with  a  point  of  great  difficulty,  and 
knotty  to  solve,  able  to  trouble  and  confound  the 
wisest  king  in  the  newness  of  his  estate;  and  so 
much  the  more,  because  it  could  not  endure  a  de 
liberation,  but  must  be  at  once  deliberated  and  de 
termined.  There  were  fallen  to  his  lot,  and  con 
current  in  his  person,  three  several  titles  to  the 
imperial  crown.  The  first,  the  title  of  the  Lady 
Elizabeth,  with  whom,  by  precedent  pact  with 
the  party  that  brought  him  in,  he  was  to  marry. 
The  second,  the  ancient  and  long  disputed  title, 
both  by  plea  and  arms,  of  the  house  of  Lancaster, 
to  which  he  was  inheritor  in  his  own  person.  The 
third,  the  title  of  the  sword  or  conquest,  for  that 
he  came  in  by  victory  of  battle,  and  that  the  king 
in  possession  was  slain  in  the  field.  The  first  of 
these  was  fairest,  and  most  like  to  give  content 
ment  to  the  people,  who  by  two  and  twenty  years 
reign  of  King  Edward  the  Fourth  had  been  fully 
made  capable  of  the  clearness  of  the  title  of  the 
white  rose,  or  house  of  York;  and  by  the  mild  and 
plausible  reign  of  the  same  king  towards  his  latter 
time,  were  become  affectionate  to  that  line.  But 
then  it  lay  plain  before  his  eyes,  that  if  he  relied 
upon  that  title,  he  could  be  but  a  king  at  courtesy, 
and  have  rather  a  matrimonial  than  a  regal  power  : 
the  right  re: naming  in  his  queen,  upon  whose  de 
cease,  either  with  issue,  or  without  issue,  he  was  to 
give  place  and  be  removed.  And  though  he  should 
obtain  by  parliament  to  be  continued,  yet  he  knew 
there  was  a  very  great  difference  between  a  king 
that  holdeth  his  crown  by  a  civil  act  of  estates,  and 
one  that  holdeth  it  originally  by  the  law  of  nature 
and  descent  of  blood.  Neither  wanted  there  even  at 


that  time  secret  rumours  and  whisperings,  which 
afterwards  gathered  strength  and  turned  to  great 
troubles,  that  the  two  young  sons  of  King  Edward 
the  Fourth,  or  one  of  them,  which  were  said  to  be 
destroyed  in  the  Tower,  were  not  indeed  murdered, 
but  conveyed  secretly  away,  and  were  yet  living  : 
which,  if  it  had  been  true,  had  prevented  the  title 
of  the  Lady  Elizabeth.  On  the  other  side,  if  he 
stood  upon  his  own  title  of  the  House  of  Lancas 
ter,  inherent  in  his  person,  he  knew  it  was  a  title 
condemned  by  parliament,  and  generally  pre 
judged  in  the  common  opinion  of  the  realm,  and 
that  it  tended  directly  to  the  disinherison  of  the 
line  of  York,  held  then  the  indubitate  heirs  of  the 
crown.  So  that  if  he  should  have  no  issue  by 
the  Lady  Elizabeth,  which  should  be  descendants 
of  the  double  line,  then  the  ancient  flames  of  dis 
cord  and  intestine  wars,  upon  the  competition  of 
both  houses,  would  again  return  and  revive. 

As  for  conquest,  notwithstanding  Sir  William 
Stanley,  after  some  acclamations  of  the  soldiers 
in  the  field,  had  put  a  crown  of  ornament,  which 
Richard  wore  in  the  battle,  and  was  found  amongst 
the  spoils,  upon  King  Henry's  head,  as  if  there 
were  his  chief  title ;  yet  he  remembered  well 
upon  what  conditions  and  agreements  he  was 
brought  in ;  and  that  to  claim  as  conqueror  was 
to  put  as  well  his  own  party,  as  the  rest,  into  ter 
ror  and  fear;  as  that  which  gave  him  power  of 
disannulling  of  laws,  and  disposing  of  men's 
fortunes  and  estates,  and  the  like  points  of  abso 
lute  power,  being  in  themselves  so  harsh  and 
odious,  as  that  William  himself,  commonly  called 
the  Conqueror,  howsoever  he  used  and  exercised 
the  power  of  a  conqueror  to  reward  his  Normans, 
yet  he  forbore  to  use  that  claim  in  the  beginning, 
but  mixed  it  with  a  titulary  pretence,  grounded 
upon  the  will  and  designation  of  Edward  the 
Confessor.  But  the  king,  out  of  the  greatness 
of  his  own  mind,  presently  cast  the  die ;  and  the 
inconveniences  appearing  unto  him  in  all  parts, 
and  knowing  there  could  not  be  any  interreign, 
or  suspension  of  title,  and  preferring  his  affection 
to  his  own  line  and  blood,  and  liking  that  title 
best  which  made  him  independent ;  and  being  in 
his  nature  and  constitution  of  mind  not  very  ap 
prehensive  or  forecasting  of  future  events  afar  off, 
but  an  entertainer  of  fortune  by  the  day  ;  resolved 
to  rest  upon  the  title  of  Lancaster  as  the  main, 
and  to  use  the  other  two,  that  of  marriage  and 
that  of  battle,  but  as  supporters,  the  one  to  appease 
secret  discontents,  and  the  other  to  beat  down 
open  murmur  and  dispute :  not  forgetting  that  the 
same  title  of  Lancaster  had  formerly  maintained 
a  possession  of  three  descents  in  the  crown ;  and 
might  have  proved  a  perpetuity,  had  it  not  ended 
in  the  weakness  and  inability  of  the  last  prince. 
Whereupon  the  king  presently  that  very  day, 
being  the  two  and  twentieth  of  August,  assvimea 
the  style  of  king  in  his  own  name,  without  men 
tion  of  the  Lady  Elizabeth  at  all,  or  any  relation 


316 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


thereunto.  In  which  course  he  ever  after  persist 
ed  :  which  did  spin  him  a  thread  of  many  sedi 
tions  and  troubles.  The  king,  full  of  these 
thoughts,  before  his  departure  from  Leicester, 
despatched  Sir  Robert  Willoughby  to  the  castle 
of  Sheriff  Hutton,  in  Yorkshire,  where  were  kept 
in  safe  custody,  by  King  Richard's  command 
ment,  both  the  Lady  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  King 
Edward,  and  Edward  Plantagenei,  son  and  heir 
to  George,  Duke  of  Clarence.  This  Edward 
was,  by  the  king's  warrant,  delivered  from  the 
constable  of  the  castle  to  the  hand  of  Sir  Robert 
Willoughby :  and  by  him,  with  all  safety  and 
diligence  conveyed  to  the  Tower  of  London, 
where  he  was  shut  up  close  prisoner.  Which 
act  of  the  king's,  being  an  act  merely  of  policy 
and  power,  proceeded  not  so  much  from  any  ap 
prehension  he  had  of  Doctor  Shaw's  tale  at 
Paul's  cross  for  the  bastarding  of  Edward  the 
Fourth's  issues,  in  which  case  this  young  gentle 
man  was  to  succeed,  for  that  fable  was  ever  ex 
ploded,  but  upon  a  settled  disposition  to  depress 
all  eminent  persons  of  the  line  of  York.  Wherein 
still  the  king  out  of  strength  of  will,  or  weakness 
of  judgment,  did  use  to  show  a  little  more  of  the 
party  than  of  the  king. 

For  the  Lady  Elizabeth,  she  received  also  a 
direction  to  repair  with  all  convenient  speed  to 
London,  and  there  to  remain  with  the  queen- 
dowager,  her  mother;  which,  accordingly,  she 
soon  after  did,  accompanied  with  many  noblemen 
and  ladies  of  honour.  In  the  mean  season,  the 
king  set  forwards,  by  easy  journeys,  to  the  city 
of  London,  receiving  the  acclamations  and  ap 
plauses  of  the  people  as  he  went,  which,  indeed, 
were  true  and  unfeigned,  as  might  well  appear  in 
the  very  demonstrations  and  fulness  of  the  cry. 
For  they  thought  generally,  that  he  was  a  prince, 
as  ordained  and  sent  down  from  heaven,  to  unite 
and  put  to  an  end  the  long  dissensions  of  the  two 
houses;  which,  although  they  had  had,  in  the 
times  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  Henry  the  Fifth,  and 
a  part  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  on  the  one  side,  and 
the  times  of  Edward  the  Fourth  on  the  other, 
lucid  intervals  and  happy  pauses;  yet  they  did 
ever  hang  over  the  kingdom,  ready  to  break  forth 
into  new  perturbations  and  calamities.  And  as 
his  victory  gave  him  the  knee,  so  his  purpose  of 
marriage  with  the  Lady  Elizabeth  gave  him  the 
heart;  so  that  both  knee  and  heart  did  truly  bow 
before  him. 

He  on  the  other  side  with  great  wisdom,  not 
ignorant  of  the  affections  and  fears  of  the  people, 
to  disperse  the  conceit  and  terror  of  a  conquest, 
had  given  order,  that  there  should  be  nothing  in 
his  journey  like  unto  a  warlike  march  or  manner; 
but  rather  like  unto  the  progress  of  a  king  in  full 
peace  and  assurance. 

He  entered  the  city  upon  a  Saturday,  as  he  had 
also  obtained  the  victory  upon  a  Saturday ;  which 
day  of  the  week,  first  upon  an  observation,  and 


after  upon  memory  and  fancy,  he  accounted  and 
chose  as  a  day  prosperous  unto  him. 

The  mayor  and  companies  of  the  city  received 
him  at  Shoreditch;  whence  with  great  and  ho 
nourable  attendance,  and  troops  of  noblemen  and 
persons  of  quality,  he  entered  the  city ;  himself 
not  being  on  horseback,  or  in  any  open  chair  or 
throne,  but  in  a  close  chariot,  as  one  that  having 
been  sometimes  an  enemy  to  the  whole  state,  and 
a  proscribed  person,  chose  rather  to  keep  state, 
and  strike  a  reverence  into  the  people,  than  to 
fa\vn  upon  them. 

He  went  first  into  St.  Paul's  church,  where, 
not  meaning  that  the  people  should  forget  too 
soon  that  he  came  in  by  battle,  he  made  offertory 
of  his  standards,  and  had  orisons  and  "  Te  Deurn" 
again  sung;  and  went  to  his  lodging  prepared  in 
the  Bishop  of  London's  palace,  where  he  stayed 
for  a  time. 

During  his  abode  there,  he  assembled  his  coun 
cil  and  other  principal  persons,  in  presence  of 
whom,  he  did  renew  again  his  promise  to  marry 
with  the  Lady  Elizabeth.  This  he  did  the  rather, 
because  having  at  his  coming  out  of  Britain  given 
artificially,  for  serving  of  his  own  turn,  some 
hopes,  in  case  he  obtained  the  kingdom,  to  marry 
Anne,  inheritress  to  the  Duchy  of  Britain,  whom 
Charles  the  Eighth  of  France  soon  after  married, 
it  bred  some  doubt  and  suspicion  amongst  divers 
that  he  was  not  sincere,  or  at  least  not  fixed  in 
going  on  with  the  match  of  England  so  much  de 
sired  :  which  conceit  also,  though  it  were  but 
talk  and  discourse,  did  much  afflict  the  poor  Lady 
Elizabeth  herself.  But  howsoever  he  both  trulv 
intended  it,  and  desired  also  it  should  be  so  be 
lieved,  the  better  to  extinguish  envy  and  contra 
diction  to  his  other  purposes,  yet  was  he  resolved 
in  himself  not  to  proceed  to  the  consummation 
thereof,  till  his  coronation  and  a  parliament  were 
past.  The  one,  lest  a  joint  coronation  of  himself 
and  his  queen  might  give  any  countenance  of 
participation  of  title;  the  other,  lest  in  the  entail 
ing  of  the  crown  to  himself,  which  he  hoped  to 
obtain  by  parliament,  the  votes  of  the  parliament 
might  any  ways  reflect  upon  her. 

About  this  time  in  autumn,  towards  the  end  of 
September,  there  began  and  reigned  in  the  city, 
and  other  parts  of  the  kingdom,  a  disease  then 
new  :  which  by  the  accidents  and  manner  thereof 
they  called  the  sweating  sickness.  This  disease 
had  a  swift  course,  both  in  the  sick  body,  and  in 
the  time  and  period  of  the  lasting  thereof;  for 
they  that  were  taken  with  it,  upon  four  and  twenty 
hours  escaping,  were  thought  almost  assured. 
And  as  to  the  time  of  the  malice  and  reign  of  the 
disease  ere  it  ceased  ;  it  began  about  the  one  and 
twentieth  of  September,  and  cleared  up  before 
the  end  of  October,  insomuch  as  it  was  no  hin- 
derance  to  the  king's  coronation,  which  was  the 
last  of  October;  nor,  which  was  more,  to  the 
holding  of  the  parliament,  which  began  but  seven 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


317 


days  after.  It  was  a  pestilent  fever,  but,  as  it  moned  immediately  after  his  coming;  to  London, 
seemeth,  not  seated  in  the  veins  or  humours,  for ,  His  ends  in  calling  a  parliament,  and  that  so 
that  there  followed  no  carbuncle,  no  purple  or  !  speedily,  were  chiefly  three  :  first  to  procure  the 
1'vid  spots,  or  the  like,  the  mass  of  the  body  be- j  crown  to  be  entailed  upon  himself.  Next,  to 
ing  not  tainted ;  only  a  malign  vapour  flew  to  the  j  have  the  attainders  of  all  of  his  party,  which 
heart  and  seized  the  vital  spirits;  which  stirred  |  were  in  no  small  number,  reversed,  and  all  acts 
nature  to  strive  to  send  it  forth  by  an  extreme  |  of  hostility  by  them  done  in  his  quarrel  remitted 
sweat.  And  it  appeared  by  experience,  that  this  \  and  discharged  ;  and  on  the  other  side,  to  attaint 
disease  was  rather  a  surprise  of  nature  than  ob-  by  parliament  the  heads  and  principals  of  his 
stinate  to  remedies,  if  it  were  in  time  looked  enemies.  The  third,  to  calm  and  quiet  the  fears 


unto.  For  if  the  patient  were  kept  in  an  equal 
temper,  both  for  clothes,  fire,  and  drink,  mode 
rately  warm,  with  temperate  cordials,  whereby 


of  the  rest  of  that  party  by  a  general  pardon  ;  not 
being  ignorant  in  how  great  danger  a  king  stands 
from  his  subjects,  when  most  of  his  subjects  are 


nature's  work  was  neither  irritated  by  heat,  nor  I  conscious   in  themselves  that  they  stand  in  his 


turned  back  by  cold,  he  commonly  recovered. 
But  infinite  persons  died  suddenly  of  it,  before 
the  manner  of  the  cure  and  attendance  was  known. 
It  was  conceived  not  to  be  an  epidemic  disease, 
but  to  proceed  from  a  malignity  in  the  constitution 
of  the  air,  gathered  by  the  predispositions  of  sea 
sons ;  and  the  speedy  cessation  declared  as  much. 
On  Simon  and  Jude's  even  the  king  dined  with 
Thomas  Bourchier,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
and  Cardinal :  and,  from  Lambeth,  went  by  land, 
over  the  bridge  to  the  Tower,  where  the  morrow 
after,  he  made  twelve  knights  bannerets.  But  for 
creations  he  dispensed  them  with  a  sparing  hand. 
For  notwithstanding  a  field  so  lately  fought,  and 
a  coronation  so  near  at  hand,  he  only  created 
,  three  :  Jasper,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  the  king's  un- 
j  cle,  was  created  Duke  of  Bedford ;  Thomas,  the 
Lord  Stanley,  the  king's  father-in-law,  Earl  of 
Derby;  and  Edward  Courtney,  Earl  of  Devon; 
though  the  king  had  then  nevertheless  a  purpose 
in  himself  to  make  more  in  time  of  parliament; 
bearing  a  wise  and  decent  respect  to  distribute 
his  creations,  some  to  honour  his  coronation,  and 
some  his  parliament. 

The  coronation  followed  two  days  after,  upon 
the  thirtieth  day  of  October,  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord,  M85;  at  which  time,  Innocent  the  Eighth 
was  Pepe  of  Rome  ;  Frederick  the  Third,  Empe 
ror  of  Almain  ;  and  Maximilian,  his  son,  newly 
chosen  King  of  the  Romans  ;  Charles  the  Eighth, 
King  of  France;  Ferdinando  and  Isabella,  Kings 
of  Spain  ;  and  James  the  Third,  King  of  Scot 
land  :  with  all  which  kings  and  states  the  king 
was  at  that  time  in  good  peace  and  amity.  At 
which  day,  also,  as  if  the  crown  upon  his  head 
had  put  perils  into  his  thoughts,  he  did  institute, 
for  the  better  security  of  his  person,  a  band  of 
fifty  archers,  under  a  captain,  to  attend  him,  by 
the  name  of  yeomen  of  his  guard  ;  and  yet  that  it 
might  be  thought  to  be  rather  a  matter  of  dignity, 
after  the  imitation  of  that  he  had  known  abroad, 


danger.  Unto  these  three  special  motives  of  a 
parliament  was  added,  that  he,  as  a  prudent  and 
moderate  prince,  made  this  judgment,  that  it  was 
fit  for  him  to  hasten  to  let  his  people  see,  that  he 
meant  to  govern  by  law,  howsoever  he  came  in 
by  the  sword ;  and  fit  also  to  reclaim  them  to 
know  him  for  their  king,  whom  they  had  so  lately 
talked  of  as  an  enemy  or  banished  man.  For 
that  which  concerned  the  entailing  of  the  crown, 
more  than  that  he  was  true  to  his  own  will,  that 
he  would  not  endure  any  mention  of  the  Lady 
Elizabeth,  no  not  in  the  nature  of  special  entail, 
he  carried  it  otherwise  with  great  wisdom  and 
measure :  for  he  did  not  press  to  have  the  act 
penned  by  way  of  declaration  or  recognition  of 
right;  as,  on  the  other  side,  he  avoided  to  have  it 
by  new  law  or  ordinance,  but  chose,  rather,  a 
kind  of  middle  way,  by  way  of  establishment, 
and  that  under  covert  and  indifferent  words  : 
"  that  the  inheritance  of  the  crown  should  rest, 
remain,  and  abide  in  the  king,"  &c.,  which  words 
might  equally  be  applied,  that  the  crown  shall 
continue  to  him ;  but  whether  as  having  former 
right  to  it.  which  was  doubtful,  or  having  it  then 
in  fact  and  possession,  which  no  man  denied,  was 
left  fair  to  interpretation  either  way.  And  again, 
for  the  limitation  of  the  entail,  he  did  not  press 
it  to  go  farther  than  to  himself  and  to  the  heirs 
of  his  body,  not  speaking  of  his  right  heirs,  but 
leaving  that  to  the  law  to  decide ;  so  as  the  entail 
might  seem  rather  a  personal  favour  to  him  and 
his  children,  than  a  total  disinherison  to  the 
house  of  York;  and  in  this  form  was  the  law 
drawn  and  passed.  Which  statute  he  procured 
to  be  confirmed  by  the  pope's  bull  the  year  fol 
lowing,  with  mention,  nevertheless,  by  way  of 
recital,  of  his  other  titles,  both  of  descent  and 
conquest :  so  as  now  the  wreath  of  three  was 
made  a  wreath  of  five  ;  for  to  the  three  first  titles 
of  the  two  houses,  or  lines,  and  conquest,  were 
added  two  more,  the  authorities  parliamentary  and 


than  any  matter  of  diffidence  appropriate  to  his  j  papal, 
own  case,  he  made  it  to  be  understood  for  an  or-  The  king  likewise,  in  the  reversal  of  the  at- 
dinance  not  temporary,  but  to  hold  in  succession  tainders  of  his  partakers,  and  discharging  them 
forever  after.  j  of  all  offences  incident  to  his  service  and  succour, 

The  seventh  of  November,  the  king  held  his    had  his  will ;  and  acts  did  pass  accordingly.     In 
parliament  at  Westminster,  which  he  had  sum-    the  passage  whereof,  exception  was  taken  to  di- 

2D2 


318 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


vers  persons  in  the  House  of  Commons,  for  that 
they  were  attainted,  and  thereby  not  legal  nor  ha 
bilitate  to  serve  in  parliament,  being  disabled  in 
the  highest  degree,  and  that  it  should  be  a  great 
incongruity  to  have  them  to  make  laws  who  them 
selves  were  not  inlawed.  The  truth  was,  that  di 
vers  of  those  which  had  in  the  time  of  King  Rich 
ard  been  strongest,  and  most  declared  for  the 
king's  party,  were  returned  knights  and  burgesses 
for  the  parliament,  whether  by  care  or  recommen 
dation  from  the  state,  or  the  voluntary  inclination 
of  the  people  ;  many  of  which  had  been  by  Rich 
ard  the  Third  attainted  by  outlawries  or  otherwise. 
The  king  was  somewhat  troubled  with  this  ;  for 
though  it  had  a  grave  and  specious  show,  yet  it 
reflected  upon  his  party.  But  wisely  not  show 
ing  himself  at  all  moved  therewith,  he  would  not 
understand  it  but  as  a  casein  law,  and  wished  the 
judges  to  be  advised  thereupon;  who  for  that 
purpose  were  forthwith  assembled  in  the  Exche 
quer  Chamber,  which  is  the  council  chamber  of  the 
judges,  and  upon  deliberation  they  gave  a  grave 
and  safe  opinion  and  advice,  mixed  with  law  and 
convenience ;  which  was,  that  the  knights  and 
burgesses  attainted  by  the  course  of  law  should  for 
bear  to  come  into  the  house  till  a  law  were  passed 
for  the  reversal  of  their  attainders. 

It  was  at  that  time  incidently  moved  amongst 
the  judges  in  their  consultation,  what  should  be 
done  for  the  king  himself,  who  likewise  was  at 
tainted  1  But  it  was  with  unanimous  consent  re 
solved,  "That  tho  crown  takes  away  all  defects 
and  stops  in  blood :  and  that  from  the  time  the 
king  did  assume  the  crown,  the  fountain  was  clear 
ed,  and  all  attainders  and  corruption  of  blood  dis 
charged."  But  nevertheless,  for  honour's  sake, 
it  was  ordained  by  'parliament,  that  all  records, 
wherein  there  was  any  memory  or  mention  of  the 
king's  attainder,  should  be  defaced,  cancelled,  and 
taken  off  the  file. 

But  on  the  part  of  the  king's  enemies  there 
were  by  parliament  attainted,  the  late  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  calling  himself  Richard  the  Third  ; 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  Viscount 
Lovol,  the  Lord  Ferrers,  the  Lord  Zouch,  Richar.d 
Ratcliffe,  William  Catesby,  and  many  others 
of  degree  and  quality.  In  which  bills  of  attain 
ders,  nevertheless,  there  were  contained  many  just 
and  temperate  clauses,  savings,  and  provisoes, 
well  showing  and  fore-tokening  the  wisdom,  stay, 
and  moderation  of  the  king's  spirit  of  government. 
And  fur  the  pardon  of  the  rest  that  had  stood 
against  the  king,  the  king,  upon  a  second  advice, 
thought  it  not  fit  it  should  pass  by  parliament,  the 
better,  b;-ing  matter  of  grace,  to  impropriate  the 
thanks  to  himself,  using  only  the  opportunity  of 
a  parliament  time,  the  better  to  disperse  it  into  the 
veins  of  the  kingdom.  Therefore,  during  the  par 
liament,  he  published  his  royal  proclamation,  offer 
ing  p  irdon  and  grace  of  restitution  to  all  such  as 
had  taken  arms,  or  been  participant  of  any  at 


tempts  against  him,  so  as  they  submitted  them 
selves  to  his  mercy  by  a  day,  and  took  the  oath 
of  allegiance  and  fidelity  to  him.  Whereupon 
many  came  out  of  sanctuary,  and  many  more  came 
out  of  fear,  no  less  guilty  than  those  that  had  taken 
sanctuary. 

As  for  money  or  treasure,  the  king  thought  it  not 
seasonable  or  fit  to  demand  any  of  his  subjects  at 
this  parliament;  both  because  he  had  received 
satisfaction  from  them  in  matters  of  so  great  im 
portance,  and  because  he  could  not  remunerate 
them  with  any  general  pardon,  being  prevented 
therein  by  the  coronation-pardon  passed  immedi 
ately  before :  but  chiefly,  for  that  it  was  in  every 
man's  eye,  what  great  forfeitures  and  confisca 
tions  he  had  at  that  present  to  help  himself,  where 
by  those  casualties  of  the  crown  might  in  reason 
spare  the  purses  of  the  subject,  especially  in  a 
time  when  he  was  in  peace  with  all  his  neigh 
bours.  Some  few  laws  passed  at  that  parliament 
almost  for  form's  sake;  amongst  which  there  wras 
one  to  reduce  aliens  being  made  denizens,  to  pay 
strangers  custom  ;  and  another  to  draw  to  himself 
the  seizures  and  compositions  of  Italians'  goods, 
for  not  employment,  being  points  of  profit  to  his 
coffers,  whereof  from  the  very  beginning  he  was 
not  forgetful ;  and  had  been  more  happy  at  the 
latter  end,  if  his  early  providence,  which  kept 
him  from  all  necessity  of  exacting  upon  his  peo 
ple,  could  likewise  have  attempered  his  nature 
therein.  lie  added,  during  parliament,  to  his 
former  creations,  the  ennoblement  or  advancement 
in  nobility  of  a  few  others  ;  the  Lord  Chandos 
of  Britain  was  made  Earl  of  Bath;  Sir  Giles 
Daubeney  was  made  Lord  Daubeney ;  and  Sir 
Robert  Willouo-hby,  Lord  Brock. 

The  king  did  also  with  great  nobleness  and 
bounty,  which  virtues  at  that  time  had  their  turns 
in  his  nature,  restore  Edward  Stafford,  eldest  son 
to  Henry,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  attainted  in  the 
time  of  King  Richard,  not  only  to  his  dignities, 
but  to  his  fortunes  and  possessions,  which  were 
great;  to  which  he  was  moved  also  by  a  kind  of 
gratitude,  for  that  the  duke  was  the  man  that 
moved  the  first  stone  against  the  tyranny  of  King 
Richard,  and  indeed  made  the  king  a  bridge  to 
the  crown  upon  his  own  ruins.  Thus  the  parlia 
ment  brake  up. 

The  parliament  being  dissolved,  the  king  sent 
forthwith  money  to  redeem  the  Marquis  Dorset 
and  Sir  John  Bourchier,  whom  he  had  left  as  his 
pledges  at  Paris,  for  money  which  he  had  bor 
rowed  when  he  made  his  expedition  for  England. 
And  thereupon  he  took  a  fit  occasion  to  send  the 
Lord  Treasurer  and  Master  Bray,  whom  he  used 
as  counsellor,  to  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  re 
quiring  of  the  city  a  prest  of  six  thousand  marks ; 
but  after  many  parleys  he  could  obtain  but  two 
thousand  pounds ;  which,  nevertheless  the  king 
took  in  good  part,  as  men  use  to  do  that  practise 
to  borrow  money  when  they  have  no  need.  About 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


319 


this  time,  the  king  called  unto  his  privy  council 
John  Morton  and  Richard  Fox,  the  one  Bishop  of 
Ely,  the  other  Bishop  of  Exeter ;  vigilant  men  and 
^ecret,  and  such  as  kept  watch  with  him  almost 
iipon  all  men  else.  They  had  been  both  versed 
in  his  affairs  before  he  came  to  the  crown,  and 
were  partakers  of  his  adverse  fortune.  This 
Morton  soon  after,  upon  the  death  of  Bourchier, 
he  made  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  And  for 
Fox,  he  made  him  lord  keeper  of  his  privy  seal, 
and  afterwards  advanced  him  by  degrees,  from 
Exeter  to  Bath  and  Wells,  thence  to  Durham, 
and  last  to  Winchester.  For  although  the  king 
loved  to  employ  and  advance  bishops,  because, 
having  rich  bishopricks,  they  carried  their  reward 
'  upon  themselves ;  yet  he  did  use  to  raise  them 
by  steps,  that  he  might  not  lose  the  profit  of  the 
first  fruits,  which  by  that  course  of  gradation  was 
multiplied. 

At  last,  upon  the  eighteenth  of  January,  was 
solemnized  the  so  long  expected  and  so  much  de 
sired  marriage  between  the  king  and  Lady  Eliza 
beth  ;  which  day  of  marriage  was  celebrated  with 
greater  triumph  and  demonstrations,  especially 
on  the  people's  part,  of  joy  and  gladness,  than 
the  days  either  of  his  entry  or  coronation,  which 
the  king  rather  noted  than  liked.  And  it  is  true, 
that  all  his  lifetime,  while  the  Lady  Elizabeth 
lived  with  him,  for  she  died  before  him,  he  show 
ed  himself  no  very  indulgent  husband  towards 
her,  though  she  was  beautiful,  gentle,  and  fruit 
ful.  But  his  aversion  towards  the  house  of  York 
was  so  predominant  in  him,  as  it  found  place  not 
only  in  his  wars  and  councils,  but  in  his  chamber 
and  bed. 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  spring,  the  king, 
full  of  confidence  and  assurance,  as  a  prince  that 
had  been  victorious  in  battle,  and  had  prevailed 
with  his  parliament  in  all  that  he  had  desired,  and 
had  the  ring  of  acclamations  fresh  in  his  ears, 
thought  the  rest  of  his  reign  should  be  but  play, 
and  the  enjoying  of  a  kingdom :  yet,  as  a  wise 
and  watchful  king,  he  would  not  neglect  any 
thing  for  his  safety,  thinking,  nevertheless,  to 
perform  all  things  now  rather  as  an  exercise  than 
as  a  labour.  So  he  being  truly  informed  that  the 
northern  parts  were  not  only  affectionate  to  the 
house  of  York,  but  particularly  had  been  devoted 
to  King  Richard  the  Third,  thought  it  would  be 
a  summer  well  spent  to  visit  those  parts,  and  by 
his  presence  and  application  of  himself  to  reclaim 
and  rectify  those  humours.  But  the  king,  in  his 
account  of  peace  and  calms,  did  much  overcast 
his  fortunes,  which  proved  for  many  years  to 
gether,  full  of  broken  seas,  tides,  and  tempests. 
For  he  was  no  sooner  come  to  Lincoln,  where  he 
kept  his  Easter,  but  he  received  news  that  the 
Lord  Lovel,  Humphrey  Stafford,  and  Thomas 
Stafford,  who  had  formerly  taken  sanctuary  at 
Colchester,  were  departed  out  of  sanctuary,  but 
to  what  place  no  man  could  tell :  which  advertise 


ment  the  king  despised  and  continued  his  journey 
to  York.  At  York  there  came  fresh  and  more 
certain  advertisement,  that  the  Lord  Lovel  was 
at  hand  with  a  great  power  of  men,  and  that  the 
Staffords  were  in  arms  in  Worcestershire,  and 
had  made  their  approaches  to  the  city  of  Worces 
ter  to  assail  it.  The  king,  as  a  prince  of  great 
and  profound  judgment,  was  not  much  moved 
with  it;  for  that  he  thought  it  was  but  a  rag  or 
remnant  of  Bosworth-field,  and  had  nothing  in  it 
of  the  main  party  of  the  house  of  York.  But  he 
was  more  doubtful  of  the  raising  of  forces  to  re 
sist  the  rebels,  than  of  the  resistance  itself;  for 
that  he  was  in  a  core  of  people  whose  affections 
he  suspected.  But  the  action  enduring  no  delay, 
he  did  speedily  levy  and  send  against  the  Lord 
Lovel  to  the  number  of  three  thousand  men,  ill 
armed,  but  well  assured,  being  taken  some  few 
out  of  his  own  train,  and  the  rest  out  of  the 
tenants  and  followers  of  such  as  were  safe  to  be 
trusted,  under  the  conduct  of  the  Duke  of  Bed 
ford.  And  as  his  manner  was  to  send  his  par 
dons  rather  before  the  sword  than  after,  he  gave 
commission  to  the  duke  to  proclaim  pardon  to  all 
that  would  come  in ;  which  the  duke,  upon  his 
approach  to  the  Lord  Lovel's  camp,  did  perform. 
And  it  fell  out  as  the  king  expected  ;  the  heralds 
were  the  great  ordnance.  For  the  Lord  Lovel, 
upon  proclamation  of  pardon,  mistrusting  his 
men,  fled  into  Lancashire,  and  lurking  for  a  time 
with  Sir  Thomas  Broughton,  after  sailed  over  into 
Flanders  to  the  Lady  Margaret ;  and  his  men, 
forsaken  of  their  captain,  did  presently  submit 
themselves  to  the  duke.  The  Staffords,  likewise, 
and  their  forces,  hearing  what  had  happened  to  the 
Lord  Lovel,  in  whose  success  their  chief  trust 
was,  despaired  and  dispersed.  The  two  brothers 
taking  sanctuary  at  Colnham,  a  village  near 
Abingdon ;  which  place,  upon  view  cf  their  pri 
vilege  in  the  king's  bench,  being  judged  no  suf 
ficient  sanctuary  for  traitors,  Humphrey  was  exe 
cuted  at  Tyburn ;  and  Thomas,  as  being  led  by 
his  elder  brother,  was  pardoned.  So  this  rebel 
lion  proved  but  a  blast,  and  the  king,  having  by 
this  journey  purged  a  little  the  dregs  and  leaven 
of  the  northern  people,  that  were  before  in  no  good 
affection  towards  him,  returned  to  London. 

In  September  following,  the  queen  was  deliver 
ed  of  her  first  son,  whom  the  king,  in  honour  of 
the  British  race,  of  which  himself  was,  named 
Arthur,  according  to  the  name  of  that  ancient 
worthy  king  of  the  Britons,  in  whose  acts  there 
is  truth  enough  to  make  him  famous,  besides  that 
which  is  fabulous.  The  child  was  strong  and 
able,  though  he  was  born  in  the  eighth  month, 
which  the  physicians  do  prejudge. 

There  followed  this  year,  being  the  second  of 
the  king's  reign,  a  strange  accident  of  state, 
whereof  the  relations  which  we  have  are  so  naked, 
as  they  leave  it  scarce  credible  ;  not  for  the  nature 
of  it,  for  it  hath  fallen  out  often,  but  for  the  man- 


320 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


ner  and  circumstances  of  it,  especially  in  the  be-    such  an  abject  fellow  to  enterprise  so  great  a  mat 


ginnings.  Therefore  we  shall  make  our  judgment 
upon  the  things  themselves,  as  they  give  light 
one  to  another,  and  as  we  can  dig  truth  out  of  the 
mine.  The  king  was  green  in  his  estate ;  and, 
contrary  to  his  own  opinion  and  desert  both,  was 
not  without  much  hatred  throughout  the  realm. 
The  root  of  all  was  the  discountenancing  of  the 
house  of  York,  which  the  general  body  of  the 
realm  still  affected.  This  did  alienate  the  hearts 
of  the  subjects  from  him  daily  more  and  more, 
especially  when  they  saw,  that  after  his  marriage, 
and  after  a  son  born,  the  king  did  nevertheless 
not  so  much  as  proceed  to  the  coronation  of  the 
queen,  not  vouchsafing  her  the  honour  of  a  matri 
monial  crown ;  for  the  coronation  of  her  was  not 
till  almost  two  years  after,  when  danger  had 
taught  him  what  to  do.  But  much  more  when  it 
was  spread  abroad,  whether  by  error,  or  the  cun 
ning  of  malcontents,  that  the  king  had  a  purpose 
to  put  to  death  Edward  Plantagenet  closely  in  the 
Tower  :  whose  case  was  so  nearly  paralleled  with 
that  of  Edward  the  Fourth's  children,  in  respect 
of  the  blood,  like  age,  and  the  very  place  of  the 
Tower,  as  it  did  refresh  and  reflect  upon  the  king 
a  most  odious  resemblance,  as  if  he  would  be  an 
other  King  Richard.  And  all  this  time  it  was 
still  whispered  everywhere,  that  at  least  one  of 
the  children  of  Edward  the  Fourth  was  living : 
which  bruit  was  cunningly  fomented  by  such  as 
desired  innovation.  Neither  was  the  king's  na 
ture  and  customs  greatly  fit  to  disperse  these 
mists,  but  contrariwise,  he  had  a  fashion  rather 
to  create  doubts  than  assurance.  Thus  was  fuel 
prepared  for  the  spark  :  the  spark,  that  afterwards 
kindled  such  a  fire  and  combustion,  was  at  first 
contemptible. 

There  was  a  subtile  priest  called  Richard  Si 
mon,*  that  lived  in  Oxford,  and  had  to  his  pupil 
a  baker's  son,  named  Lambert  Simnell,  of  the 
age  of  some  fifteen  years,  a  comely  youth,  and 
well  favoured,  not  without  some  extraordinary 
dignity  and  grace  of  aspect.  It  came  into  this 
priest's  fancy,  hearing  what  men  talked,  and  in 
hope  to  raise  himself  to  some  great  bishoprick,  to 
cause  this  lad  to  counterfeit  and  personate  the 
second  son  of  Edward  the  Fourth,  supposed  to 
be  murdered ;  and  afterward,  for  he  changed  his 
intention  in  the  manage,  the  Lord  Edward  Plan 
tagenet,  then  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  and  accord 
ingly  to  frame  him  and  instruct  him  in  the  part 
he  was  to  play.  This  is  that  which,  as  was 
touched  before,  seemeth  scarcely  credible;  not 
that  a  false  person  should  be  assumed  to  gain  a 
kingdom,  for  it  hath  been  seen  in  ancient  and  late 
times ;  nor  that  it  should  come  into  the  mind  of 


*  Th:1  priest's  name  was  William  Simonds;  and  the  youth 

was  the  son  of ,  an  organ-maker,  in  Oxford,  as  the 

priest  declared  before  the  whole  convocation  of  the  clercy, 
at  Lambeth,  Feb.  17,  I486.— Vide  Reg.  Morton  f.  3-i.  MS. 
^andcroft. — Note  from  a  former  but  not  the  original  edition. 


ter ;  for  high  conceits  do  sometimes  come  stream 
ing  into  the  minds  and  imaginations  of  base  per 
sons,  especially  when  they  are  drunk  with  news 
and  talk  of  the  people.  But  here  is  that  which 
hath  no  appearance :  that  this  priest,  being  utterly 
unacquainted  with  the  true  person,  according  to 
whose  pattern  he  should  shape  his  counterfeit, 
should  think  it  possible  for  him  to  instruct  his 
player,  either  in  gesture  and  fashions,  or  in  re 
counting  past  matters  of  his  life  and  education  ; 
or  in  fit  answers  to  questions,  or  the  like,  any 
ways  to  come  near  the  resemblance  of  him  whom 
he  was  to  represent.  For  this  lad  was  not  to  per 
sonate  one  that  had  been  long  before  taken  out 
of  his  cradle,  or  conveyed  away  in  his  infancy, 
known  to  few;  but  a  youth,  that  till  the  age 
almost  of  ten  years  had  been  brought  up  in  a 
court  where  infinite  eyes  had  been  upon  him.  For 
King  Edward,  touched  with  remorse  of  his  brother 
the  Duke  of  Clarence's  death,  would  not,  indeed, 
restore  his  son,  of  whom  we  speak,  to  be  Duke 
of  Clarence,  but  yet  created  him  Earl  of  Warwick, 
reviving  his  honour  on  the  mother's  side ;  and 
used  him  honourably  during  his  time,  though 
Richard  the  Third  afterwards  confined  him.  So 
that  it  cannot  be,  but  that  some  great  person  that 
knew  particularly  and  familiarly  Edward  Planta 
genet,  had  a  hand  in  the  business,  from  whom 
the  priest  might  take  his  aim.  That  which  is 
most  probable,  out  of  the  precedent  and  subse 
quent  acts  is,  that  it  was  the  queen-dowager  from 
whom  this  action  had  the  principal  source  and 
motion.  For  certain  it  is,  she  was  a  busy  nego 
tiating  woman,  and  in  her  withdrawing-chamber 
had  the  fortunate  conspiracy  for  the  king  against 
King  Richard  the  Third  been  hatched  ;  which  the 
king  knew,  and  remembered  perhaps  but  too  well ; 
and  was  at  this  time  extremely  discontent  with 
the  king,  thinking  her  daughter,  as  the  king  han 
dled  the  matter,  not  advanced  but  depressed  :  and 
none  could  hold  the  book  so  well  to  prompt  and 
instruct  this  stage-play  as  she  could.  Neverthe 
less  it  was  not  her  meaning,  nor  no  more  was  it 
the  meaning  of  any  of  the  better  and  sager  sort 
that  favoured  this  enterprise,  and  knew  the  secret, 
that  this  disguised  idol  should  possess  the  crown ; 
but  at  his  peril  to  make  way  to  the  overthrow  of 
the  king;  and  that  done  they  had  their  several 
hopes  and  ways.  That  which  doth  chiefly  fortify 
this  conjecture  is,  that  as  soon  as  the  matter  brake 
forth  in  any  strength,  it  was  one  of  the  king's  first 
acts  to  cloister  the  queen-dowager  in  the  nunnery 
of  Beraiondsey,  and  to  take  away  all  her  lands 
and  estate  ;  and  this  by  a  close  council,  without 
any  legal  proceeding,  upon  far-fetched  pretences 
that  she  had  delivered  her  two  daughters  out  of 
sanctuary  to  King  Richard,  contrary  to  promise. 
Which  proceeding  being  even  at  that  time  taxed 
for  rigorous  and  undue,  both  in  matter  and  man 
ner,  makes  it  very  probable  there  was  some  greater 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


321 


ter  matter  against  her,  which  the  king,  upon  rea 
son  of  policy,  and  to  avoid  envy,  would  not  pub 
lish.  It  is  likewise  no  small  argument  that  there 
was  some  secret  in  it,  and  some  suppressing  of 
examinations,  for  that  the  priest  Simon  himself, 
after  he  was  taken,  was  never  brought  to  execu 
tion  ;  no,  not  so  much  as  to  public  trial,  as  many 
clergymen  were  upon  less  treasons,  but  was  only 
shut  up  close  in  a  dungeon.  Add  to  this,  that 
after  the  Earl  of  Lincoln,  a  principal  person  of  the 
house  of  York,  was  slain  in  Stockfield,  the  king 
opened  himself  to  some  of  his  council,  that  he  was 
sorry  for  the  earl's  death,  because  by  him,  he  said, 
he  might  have  known  the  bottom  of  his  danger. 

But  to  return  to  the  narration  itself:  Simon  did 
first  instruct  his  scholar  for  the  part  of  Richard, 
Duke  of  York,  second  son  to  King  Edward  the 
Fourth ;  and  this  was  at  such  time  as  it  was  voiced 
that  the  king  purposed  to  put  to  death  Edward 
Plantagenet,  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  whereat  there 
was  great  murmur.  But  hearing  soon  after  a  ge 
neral  bruit  that  Plantagenet  had  escaped  out  of  the 
Tower,  and  thereby  finding  him  so  much  beloved 
amongst  the  people,  and  such  rejoicing  at  his  es 
cape,  the  cunning  priest  changed  his  copy,  and 
chose  now  Plantagenet  to  be  the  subject  his  pupil 
should  personate,  because  he  was  more  in  the 
present  speech  and  votes  of  the  people ;  and  it 
pieced  better,  and  followed  more  close  and  hand 
somely,  upon  the  bruit  of  Plantagenet's  escape. 
But  yet  doubting  that  there  would  be  too  near 
looking,  and  too  much  perspective  into  his  dis 
guise,  if  he  should  show  it  here  in  England ;  he 
thought  good,  after  the  manner  of  scenes  in  stage 
plays  and  masks,  to  show  it  afar  off;  and  there 
fore  sailed  with  his  scholar  into  Ireland,  where 
the  affection  to  the  house  of  York  was  most  in 
height.  The  king  had  been  a  little  improvident 
in  the  matters  of  Ireland,  and  had  not  removed 
officers  and  counsellors,  and  put  in  their  places,  or 
at  least  intermingled,  persons  of  whom  he  stood 
assured,  as  he  should  have  done,  since  he  knew 
the  strong  bent  of  that  country  towards  the  house 
of  York ;  and  that  it  was  a  ticklish  and  unsettled 
state,  more  easy  to  receive  distempers  and  muta 
tions  than  England  was.  But  trusting  to  the  re 
putation  of  his  victories  and  successes  in  England, 
he  thought  he  should  have  time  enough  to  extend 
his  cares  afterwards  to  that  second  kingdom. 

Wherefore  through  this  neglect,  upon  the  com 
ing  of  Simon  with  his  pretended  Plantagenet  into 
Ireland,  all  things  were  prepared  for  revolt  and 
sedition,  almost  as  if  they  had  been  set  and  plotted 
beforehand.  Simon's  first  address  was  to  the  Lord  j 
Thomas  Fitz-Gerard,  Earl  of  Kildare,  and  deputy 
of  Ireland ;  before  whose  eyes  he  did  cast  such  a 
mist,  by  his  own  insinuation,  and  by  the  carriage 
of  his  youth,  that  expressed  a  natural  princely  be 
haviour,  as  joined  perhaps  with  some  inward  va 
pours  of  ambition  and  affection  in  the  earl's  own 
mind,  left  him  fully  possessed  that  it  was  the  true 

VOL.  I.— 41 


Plantagenet.  The  earl  presently  communicated 
the  matter  with  some  of  the  nobles,  and  others 
there,  at  the  first  secretly ;  but  finding  them  of 
like  affection  to  himself,  he  suffered  it  of  purpose 
to  vent  and  pass  abroad  ;  because  they  thought  it 
not  safe  to  resolve,  till  they  had  a  taste  of  the  peo 
ple's  inclination.  But  if  the  great  ones  were  in 
forwardness,  the  people  were  in  fury,  entertain 
ing  this  airy  body  or  phantasm  with  incredible 
affection ;  partly,  out  of  their  great  devotion  to  the 
house  of  York ;  partly,  out  of  a  proud  humour  in 
the  nation,  to  give  a  king  to  the  realm  of  Eng 
land.  Neither  did  the  party,  in  this  heat  of  af 
fection,  much  trouble  themselves  with  the  attain 
der  of  George,  Duke  of  Clarence;  having  newly 
learned,  by  the  king's  example,  that  attainders  do 
not  interrupt  the  conveying  of  title  to  the  cro\vn. 
And  as  for  the  daughters  of  King  Edward  the 
Fourth,  they  thought  King  Richard  had  said 
enough  for  them ;  and  took  them  to  be  but  as  of 
the  king's  party,  because  they  were  in  his  power 
and  at  his  disposing.  So  that  with  marvellous 
consent  and  applause,  this  counterfeit  Plantage 
net  was  brought  with  great  solemnity  to  the  cas 
tle  of  Dublin,  and  there  saluted,  served,  and  ho 
noured  as  king ;  the  boy  becoming  it  well,  and 
doing  nothing  that  did  bewray  the  baseness  of 
his  condition.  And  within  a  few  days  after  he 
was  proclaimed  king,  in  Dublin,  by  the  name  of 
King  Edward  the  Sixth ;  there  being  not  a  sword 
drawn  in  King  Henry's  quarrel. 

The  king  was  much  moved  with  this  unexpect 
ed  accident  when  it  came  to  his  ears,  both  be 
cause  it  struck  upon  that  string  which  ever  he 
most  feared,  as  also  because  it  was  stirred  in  such 
a  place  where  he  could  not  with  safety  transfer 
his  own  person  to  suppress  it.  For  partly  through 
natural  valour,  and  partly  through  a  universal 
suspicion,  not  knowing  whom  to  trust,  he  was 
ever  ready  to  wait  upon  all  his  acheivements  in 
person.  The  king  therefore  first  called  his  coun 
cil  together  at  the  Charter-house  at  Shine ;  which 
council  was  held  with  great  secrecy,  but  the  open 
decrees  thereof,  which  presently  came  abroad, 
were  three. 

The  first  was,  that  the  queen-dowager,  for 
that  she,  contrary  to  her  pact  and  agreement  with 
those  that  had  concluded  with  her  concerning-  the 
marriage  of  her  daughter  Elizabeth  with  King 
Henry,  had  nevertheless  delivered  her  daughters 
out  of  sanctuary  into  King  Richard's  hands,  should 
be  cloistered  in  the  nunnery  of  Bermondesy,  and 
forfeit  all  her  lands  and  goods. 

The  next  was,  that  Edward  Plantagenet,  then 
close  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  should  be,  in  the 
most  public  and  notorious  manner  that  could  be 
devised,  showed  unto  the  people :  in  part  to  dis 
charge  the  king  of  the  envy  of  that  opinion  and 
bruit,  how  he  had  been  put  to  death  privily  in  the 
Tower;  but  chiefly  to  make  the  people  see  the 
levity  and  imposture  of  the  proceedings  of  Ire- 


322 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


land,  and  that  their  Plantagenet  was  indeed  but  a 
puppet  or  a  counterfeit. 

The  third  was,  that  there  should  be  again  pro 
claimed  a  general  pardon  to  all  that  would  reveal 
their  offences,  and  submit  themselves  by  a  day. 
And  that  this  pardon  should  be  conceived  in  so 
ample  and  liberal  a  manner,  as  no  high  treason, 
no  not  against  the  king's  own  person,  should  be 
excepted.  Which  though  it  might  seem  strange, 
yet  was  it  not  so  to  a  wise  king,  that  knew  his 
greatest  dangers  were  not  from  the  least  treasons, 
but  from  the  greatest.  These  resolutions  of  the 
king  and  his  council  were  immediately  put  in  ex 
ecution.  And  first,  the  queen-dowager  was  put 
into  the  monastery  of  Bermondsey,  and  all  her  es 
tates  seized  into  the  king's  hands  :  whereat  there 
was  much  wondering;  that  a  weak  woman,  for 
the  yielding  to  the  menaces  and  promises  of  a  ty 
rant,  after  such  a  distance  of  time,  wherein  the 
king  had  showed  no  displeasure  nor  alteration, 
but  much  more  after  so  happy  a  marriage  between 
the  king  and  her  daughter,  blessed  with  issue 
male,  should,  upon  a  sudden  mutability  or  disclo 
sure  of  the  king's  mind,  be  so  severely  handled. 

This  lady  was  amongst  the  examples  of  great 
variety  of  fortune.  She  had  first,  from  a  distress 
ed  suitor,  and  desolate  widow,  been  taken  to  the 
marriage  bed  of  a  bachelor  king,  the  goodliest 
personage  of  his  time;  and  even  in  his  reign  she 
had  endured  a  strange  eclipse  by  the  king's  flight, 
and  temporary  depriving  from  the  crown.  She 
was  also  very  happy,  in  that  she  had  by  him  fair 
issue ;  and  continued  his  nuptial  love,  helping 
herself  by  some  obsequious  bearing  and  dissem 
bling  of  his  pleasures,  to  the  very  end.  She  was 
much  affectionate  to  her  own  kindred,  even  unto 
faction;  which  did  stir  great  envy  in  the  lords  of 
the  king's  side,  who  counted  her  blood  a  dispa 
ragement  to  be  mingled  with  the  king's.  With 
which  lords  of  the  king's  blood  joined  also  the 
king's  favourite,  the  Lord  Hastings ;  who,  not 
withstanding  the  king's  great  affection  to  him, 
was  thought  at  times,  through  her  malice  and 
spleen,  not  to  be  out  of  danger  of  falling.  After 
her  husband's  death  she  was  matter  of  tragedy, 
having  lived  to  see  her  brother  beheaded,  and  her 
two  sons  deposed  from  the  crown,  bastardrd  in 
their  blood,  and  cruelly  murdered.  All  this 
while,  nevertheless,  she  enjoyed  her  liberty,  state. 
and  fortunes  :  but  afterwards  again,  upon  the  rise 
of  the  wheel,  when  she  had  a  king  to  her  son-in- 
law,  and  was  made  grandmother  to  a  grandchild 
of  the  best  sex :  yet  was  she,  upon  dark  and  un 
known  reasons,  and  no  less  strange  pretences,  pre 
cipitated  and  banished  the  world  into  a  nunnery ; 
where  it  was  almost  thought  dangerous  to  visit 
her,  or  see  her ;  and  where  not  long  after  she  ended 
her  life :  but  was  by  the  king's  commandment 
buried  with  the  king  her  husband,  at  "Windsor. 
She  was  foundress  of  Queen's  College,  in  Cam 
bridge.  For  this  act  the  king  sustained  great  ob- 


'  loquy,  which,  nevertheless,  besides  the  reason  of 
state,  was  somewhat  sweetened  to  him  by  a  great 
confiscation. 

About  this  time  also,  Edward  Plantagenet  was 
upon  a  Sunday  brought  throughout  all  the  princi 
pal  streets  of  London,  to  be  seen  of  the  people. 
And  having  passed  the  view  of  the  streets,  was 
conducted  to  Paul's  Church  in  solemn  procession, 
where  great  store  of  people  were  assembled.  And 
it  was  provided  also  in  good  fashion,  that  divers 
of  the  nobility,  and  others  of  quality,  especially 
of  those  that  the  king  most  suspected,  and  knew 
the  person  of  Plantagenet  best,  had  communica 
tion  with  the  young  gentleman  by  the  way,  and 
entertained  him  with  speech  and  discourse ;  which 
did  in  effect  mar  the  pageant  in  Ireland  with  the 
subjects  here,  at  least  with  so  many,  as  out  of  error, 
and  not  out  of  malice,  might  be  misled.  Never 
theless  in  Ireland,  where  it  was  too  late  to  go 
back,  it  wrought  little  or  no  effect.  But  contra 
riwise,  they 'turned  the  imposture  upon  the  king; 
and  gave  out,  that  the  king,  to  defeat  the  true  in 
heritor,  and  to  mock  the  world,  and  blind  the  eyes 
of  simple  men,  had  tricked  up  a  boy  in  the  like 
ness  of  Edward  Plantagenet,  and  showed  him  to 
the  people ;  not  sparing  to  profane  the  ceremony 
of  a  procession,  the  more  to  countenance  the 
fable. 

The  general  pardon  likewise  near  the  same 
time  came  forth  ;  and  the  king  therewithal  omit 
ted  no  diligence,  in  giving  strait  order  for  the  keep 
ing  of  the  ports,  that  fugitives,  malecontents,  or 
suspected  persons,  might  not  pass  over  into  Ire 
land  and  Flanders. 

Meanwhile  the  rebels  in  Ireland  had  sent  privy 
messengers  both  into  England  and  into  Flanders, 
who  in  both  places  had  wrought  effects  of  no  small 
importance.  For  England,  they  won  to  their  party 
John,  Earl  of  Lincoln,  son  of  John  de  la  Pole, 
Duke  of  Suffolk,  and  of  Elizabeth,  King  Edward 
the  Fourth's  eldest  sister.  This  earl  was  a  man 
of  great  wit  and  courage,  and  had  his  thoughts 
highly  raised  by  hopes  and  expectations  for  a 
time;  for  Richard  the  Third  had  a  resolution, 
out  of  his  hatred  to  both  his  brethren,  King  Ed 
ward  and  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  and  their  lines, 
having  had  his  hand  in  both  their  bloods,  to  dis 
able  their  issues  upon  false  and  incompetent  pre 
texts  ;  the  one  of  attainder,  the  other  of  illegitirna- 
tion  :  and  to  design  the  gentleman,  in  case  him 
self  should  die  without  children,  for  inheritor  of 
the  crown.  Neither  was  this  unknown  to  the 
king,  who  had  secretly  an  eye  upon  him.  But 
the  king,  having  tasted  of  the  envy  of  the  people 
for  his  imprisonment  of  Edward  Plantagenet,  was 
doubtful  to  heap  up  any  more  distastes  of  that  kind, 
by  the  imprisonment  of  De  la  Pole  also ;  the  rather 
thinking  it  policy  to  conserve  him  as  a  co-rival 
unto  the  other.  The  Earl  of  Lincoln  was  induced 
to  participate  with  the  action  of  Ireland,  not 
lightly  upon  the  strength  of  the  proceedings  there 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


323 


which  was  but  a  bubble,  but  upon  letters  from  the 
Lady  Margaret  of  Burgundy,  in  whose  succours 
and  declaration  for  the  enterprise  there  seemed  to 
be  a  more  solid  foundation,  both  for  reputation 
and  forces.  Neither  did  the  earl  refrain  the  busi 
ness,  for  that  he  knew  the  pretended  Plantagenet 
to  be  but  an  idol.  But  contrariwise,  he  was  more 
glad  it  should  be  the  false  Plantagenet  than  the 
true ;  because  the  false  being  sure  to  fall  away 
of  himself,  and  the  true  to  be  made  sure  of  by 
the  king,  it  might  open  and  pave  a  fair  and  pre 
pared  way  to  his  own  title.  With  this  resolu 
tion  he  sailed  secretly  into  Flanders,  where 
was  a  little  before  arrived  the  Lord  Lovel, 
leaving  a  correspondence  here  in  England  with 
Sir  Thomas  Broughton,  a  man  of  great  power 
and  dependencies  in  Lancashire.  For  before 
this  time,  when  the  pretended  Plantagenet  was 
first  received  in  Ireland,  secret  messengers  had 
been  also  sent  to  the  Lady  Margaret,  advertis 
ing  her  what  was  passed  in  Ireland ;  imploring 
succours  in  an  enterprise,  as  they  said,  so  pious 
and  just,  and  that  God  had  so  miraculously  pros 
pered  the  beginning  thereof:  and  making  offer  that 
all  things  should  be  guided  by  her  will  and  di 
rection,  as  the  sovereign  partroness  and  protec 
tress  of  the  enterprise.  Margaret  was  second 
sister  to  King  Edward  the  Fourth,  and  had  been 
second  wife  to  Charles,  surnamed  the  Hardy, 
Duke  of  Burgundy ;  by  whom  having  no  children 
of  her  own,  she  did  with  singular  care  and  tender 
ness  intend  the  education  of  Philip  and  Margaret, 
grandchildren  to  her  former  husband ;  which  won 
her  great  love  and  authority  among  the  Dutch.  This 
princess,  having  the  spirit  of  a  man,  and  malice 
of  a  woman,  abounding  in  treasure  by  the  great 
ness  of  her  dower  and  her  provident  government, 
and  being  childless,  and  without  any  nearer  care, 
made  it  her  design  and  enterprise  to  see  the  ma 
jesty  royal  of  England  once  again  replaced  in  her 
house  ;  and  had  set  up  King  Henry  as  a  mark  at 
whose  overthrow  all  her  actions  should  aim  and 
shoot;  insomuch  as  all  the  counsels  of  his  suc 
ceeding  troubles  came  chiefly  out  of  that  quiver. 
And  she  bare  such  a  mortal  hatred  to  the  house 
of  Lancaster,  and  personally  to  the  king,  as  she 
was  no  ways  mollified  by  the  conjunction  of  the 
house  in  her  niece's  marriage,  but  rather  hated  her 
niece,  as  the  means  of  the  king's  ascent  to  the 
crown,  and  assurance  therein.  Wherefore  with 
great  violence  of  affection  she  embraced  this  over 
ture.  And  upon  counsel  taken  with  the  Earl  of 
Lincoln,  and  the  Lord  Lovel,  and  some  other  of 
the  party,  it  was  resolved  with  all  speed,  the  two 
lords,  assisted  with  a  regiment  of  two  thousand 
Alnmins,  being  choice  and  veteran  bands,  under 
the  command  of  Martin  Swart,  a  valiant  and  ex 
perimental  capt-iin,  should  pass  over  into  Ireland  to 
the  new  kin'jf ;  h  -  mig,  that  when  tho  action  should 
have  the  f  ice  < T  a  received  vuid  settled  regality, 
with  such  a  see-on  1  person  as  the  Earl  of  Lincoln, 


and  the  conjunction  and  reputation  of  foreign  suc 
cours,  the  fame  of  it  would  embolden  and  prepare 
all  the  party  of  the  confederates  and  malcontents 
within  the  realm  of  England,  to  give  them  assist 
ance  when  they  should  come  over  there.  And 
for  the  person  of  the  counterfeit,  it  was  agreed, 
that  if  all  things  succeeded  well  he  should  be  put 
down,  and  the  true  Plantagenet  received  ;  where 
in,  nevertheless,  the  Earl  of  Lincoln  had  his  par 
ticular  hopes.  After  they  were  come  into  Ireland, 
and  that  the  party  took  courage,  by  seeing  them 
selves  together  in  a  body,  they  grew  very  confi 
dent  of  success ;  conceiving  and  discoursing 
amongst  themselves,  that  they  went  in  upon  far 
better  cards  to  overthrow  King  Henry,  than  King 
Henry  had  to  overthrow  King  Richard  :  and  that 
if  there  were  not  a  sword  drawn  against  them  in 
Ireland,  it  was  a  sign  the  swords  in  England 
would  be  soon  sheathed  or  beaten  down.  And 
first,  for  a  bravery  upon  this  accession  of  power, 
they  crowned  their  new  king  in  the  cathedral  church 
of  Dublin ;  who  formerly  had  been  but  proclaimed 
only  ;  and  then  sat  in  council  what  should  farther 
be  done.  At  which  council,  though  it  were  pro 
pounded  by  some,  that  it  were  the  best  way  to 
establish  themselves  first  in  Ireland,  and  to  make 
that  the  seat  of  the  war,  and  to  draw  King  Henry 
thither  in  person,  by  whose  absence  they  thought 
there  would  be  great  alterations  and  commo 
tions  in  England  ;  yet  because  the  kingdom  there 
was  poor,  and  they  should  not  be  able  to  keep  their 
army  together,  nor  pay  their  German  soldiers; 
and  for  that  also  the  sway  of  the  Irishmen,  and  gen 
erally  of  the  men  of  war,  which,  as  in  such  cases  of 
popular  tumults  is  usual,  did  in  effect  govern  their 
leaders,  was  eager,  and  in  affection  to  make  their 
fortunes  upon  England  ;  it  was  concluded  with  all 
possible  speed  to  transport  their  forces  into  P^ng- 
land.  The  king,  in  the  me.an  time,  who  at  first 
when  he  heard  what  was  done  in  Ireland,  though  it 
troubled  him,  yet  thought  he  should  be  well  enough 
able  to  scatter  the  Irish  as  a  flight  of  birds,  and 
rattle  away  this  swarm  of  bees  with  their  king; 
when  he  heard  afterwards  that  the  Earl  of  Lincoln 
was  embarked  in  the  action,  and  that  the  Lady 
Margaret  was  declared  for  it ;  he  apprehended  the 
danger  in  a  true  degree  as  it  was,  and  saw  plainly 
that  his  kingdom  must  again  be  put  to  the  stake, 
and  that  he  must  fight  for  it.  And  first  he  did 
conceive,  before  he  understood  of  the  Earl  of  Lin 
coln's  sailing  into  Ireland  out  of  Flanders,  that  he 
should  be  assailed  both  upon  the  east  parts  of  the 
kingdom  of  England  by  some  impression  from 
Flanders,  and  upon  the  northwest  out  of  Ireland. 
And  therefore  having  ordered  musters  to  be  made 
in  both  parts,  and  having  provisionally  designed, 
two  generals,  Jasper,  Earl  of  Bedford,  and  John, 
Earl  of  Oxford,  meaning  himself  also  to  go  in  pel- 
son  where  the  affairs  should  most  require  it,  and 
nevertheless  not  expecting  any  actual  invasion  at 
that  time,  the  winter  being  far  on,  he  took  his 


324 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


journey  himself  towards  Suffolk  and  Norfolk  for 
the  confirming-  of  those  parts.  And  being  come 
to  St.  Edmond's-Bury,  he  understood  that  Tho 
mas,  Marquis  Dorset,  who  had  been  one  of  the 
pledges  in  France,  was  hasting  towards  him,  to 
purge  himself  of  some  accusations  which  had  been 
made  against  him.  But  the  king,  though  he  kept 
an  ear  for  him,  yet  was  the  time  so  doubtful,  that 
he  sent  the  Earl  of  Oxford  to  meet  him,  and  forth 
with  to  carry  him  to  the  Tower;  with  a  fair  mes 
sage,  nevertheless,  that  he  should  bear  that  dis 
grace  with  patience,  for  that  the  king  meant  not 
his  hurt,  but  only  to  preserve  him  from  doing  hurt, 
either  to  the  king's  service,  or  to  himself:  and  that 
the  king  should  always  be  able,  when  he  had  clear 
ed  himself,  to  make  him  reparation. 

From  St.  Edmond's-Bury  be  went  to  Norwich, 
where  he  kept  his  Christmas  :  and  from  thence  he 
went,  in  a  manner  of  pilgrimage,  to  Walsingham, 
where  he  visited  our  lady's  church,  famous  for  mi 
racles,  and  made  his  prayers  and  vows  for  help 
and  deliverance :  and  from  thence  he  returned  by 
Cambridge  to  London.  Not  long  after  the  rebels, 
with  their  king,  under  the  leading  of  the  Earl  of 
Lincoln,  the  Earl  of  Kildare,  the  Lord  Lovel,  and 
Colonel  Swart,  landed  at  Fouldrey,  in  Lanca 
shire  ;  whither  there  repaired  to  them  Sir  Thomas 
Broughton,  with  some  small  company  of  English. 
The  king,  by  that  time,  knowing  now  the  storm 
would  not  divide,  but  fall  in  one  place,  had  levied 
forces  in  good  number;  and  in  person,  taking  with 
him  his  two  designed  generals,  the  Duke  of  Bed 
ford,  and  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  was  come  on  his  way 
towards  them  as  far  as  Coventry,  whence  he  sent 
forth  a  troop  of  light  horsemen  for  discovery,  and 
to  intercept  some  stragglers  of  the  enemies,  by 
whom  he  might  the  better  understand  the  particu 
lars  of  their  progress  and  purposes,  which  was 
accordingly  done ;  though  the  king  otherwise 
was  not  without  intelligence  from  espials  in  the 
camp. 

The  rebels  took  their  way  toward  York,  with 
out  spoiling  the  country,  or  any  act  of  hostility, 
the  better  to  put  themselves  into  favour  of  the  peo 
ple  and  to  personate  their  king;  who,  no  doubt, 
out  of  a  princely  feeling,  was  sparing  and  compas 
sionate  towards  his  subjects  :  but  their  snow-ball 
did  not  gather  as  it  went,  for  the  people  came  not 
in  to  them;  neither  did  any  rise  or  declare  them 
selves  in  other  parts  of  the  kingdom  for  them  : 
Avhich  was  caused  partly  by  the  good  taste  that 
the  king  had  given  his  people  of  his  government, 
joined  with  the  reputation  of  his  felicity ;  and  partly 
for  that  it  was  an  odious  thing  the  people  of  Eng 
land  to  have  a  king  brought  in  to  them  upon  the 
shoulders  of  Irish  and  Dutch,  of  which  their  army 
was  in  substance  compounded.  Neither  was  it 
a  thing  done  with  any  great  judgment  on  the  party 
of  the  rebels,  for  them  to  take  their  way  towards 
York:  considering  that  howsoever  those  parts  had  i 
formerly  been  a  nursery  of  their  friends,  yet  it  was  ! 


there  where  the  Lord  Lovel  had  so  lately  disband 
ed,  and  where  the  king's  presence  had  a  little 
before  qualified  discontents.  The  Earl  of  Lin 
coln,  deceived  of  his  hopes  of  the  country's  con 
course  unto  him,  in  which  case  he  would  have 
temporised,  and  seeing  the  business  past  retract, 
resolved  to  make  on  where  the  king  was,  and  to 
give  him  battle  ;  and  thereupon  marched  towards 
Newark,  thinking  to  have  surprised  the  town. 
But  the  king  was  somewhat  before  this  time  come 
to  Nottingham,  where  he  called  a  council  of  war, 
at  which  was  consulted  whether  it  were  best  to 
protract  time,  or  speedily  to  set  upon  the  rebels. 
In  which  council  the  king  himself,  whose  contin 
ual  vigilancy  did  suck  in  sometimes  causeless 
suspicions  which  few  else  knew,  inclined  to  the 
accelerating  a  battle,  but  this  was  presently  put 
out  of  doubt  by  the  great  aids  that  came  in  to 
him  in  the  instant  of  this  consultation,  partly  upon 
missives  and  partly  voluntaries,  from  many  parts 
of  the  kingdom. 

The  principal  persons  that  came  then  to  the 
king's  aid  were,  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  and  the 
Lord  Strange,  of  the  nobility  ;  and  of  knights  and 
gentlemen,  to  the  number  of  at  least  threescore 
and  ten  persons,  with  their  companies ;  making 
in  the  whole,  at  the  least,  six  thousand  fighting 
men,  besides  the  forces  that  were  with  the  king 
before.  Whereupon  the  king,  finding  his  army 
so  bravely  reinforced,  and  a  great  alacrity  in  all 
his  men  to  fight,  was  confirmed  in  his  former  re 
solution,  and  marched  speedily,  so  as  he  put  him 
self  between  the  enemies'  camp  and  Newark,  be 
ing  loath  their  army  should  get  the  commodity  of 
that  town.  The  earl,  nothing  dismayed,  came  for 
wards  that  day  unto  a  little  village  called  Stoke, 
and  there  encamped  that  night,  upon  the  brow  or 
hanging  of  a  hill.  The  king  the  next  day  present 
ed  him  battle  upon  the  plain,  the  fields  there  be 
ing  open  and  champain.  The  earl  courageously 
came  down  and  joined  battle  with  him.  Concern 
ing  which  battle  the  relations  that  are  left  unto 
us  are  so  naked  and  negligent,  though  it  be  an  ac 
tion  of  so  recent  memory,  as  they  rather  declare 
the  success  of  the  day  than  the  manner  of  the  fight. 
They  say  that  the  king  divided  his  army  into 
three  battails;  whereof  the  vanguard  only,  well 
strengthened  with  wings,  came  to  fight:  that  the 
fight  was  fierce  and  obstinate,  and  lasted  three 
hours,  before  the  victory  inclined  either  way ; 
save  that  judgment  might  be  made  by  that  the 
king's  vanguard  of  itself  maintained  fight  against 
the  whole  power  of  the  enemies,  (the  other 
two  battails  remaining  out  of  action,)  what  the 
success  was  like  to  be  in  the  end  :  that  Martin 
Swart  with  his  Germans  performed  bravely,  and 
so  did  those  few  English  that  were  on  that  side  : 
neither  did  the  Irish  fail  courage  or  fierceness ; 
but  being  almost  naked  men,  only  armed  with 
darts  and  skeins,  it  was  rather  an  execution  than 
a  fight  upon  them ;  insomuch  as  the  furious  slaugh- 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


325 


ter  of  them  was  a  great  discouragement  and  ap- 
palment  to  the  rest:  that  there  died  upon  the  place 
all  the  chieftains;  that  is,  the  Earl  of  Lincoln, 
the  Earl  of  Kildare,  Francis  Lord  Lovel,  Martin 
Swart,  and  Sir  Thomas  Broughton :  all  making 
good  the  fight  without  any  ground  given.  Only 
of  the  Lord  Lovel  there  went  a  report,  that  he 
fled,  and  swam  over  Trent  on  horseback,  but  could 
not  recover  the  farther  side  by  reason  of  the  steep 
ness  of  the  bank,  and  so  was  drowned  in  the  river. 
But  another  report  leaves  him  not  there,  but  that 
he  lived  long  after  in  a  cave  or  vault.  The  number 
that  was  slain  in  the  field,  was  of  the  enemies' 
part  four  thousand  at  the  least;  and  of  the  king's 
part,  one  half  his  vanguard,  besides  many  hurt, 
but  none  of  name.  There  were  taken  prisoners, 
amongst  others,  the  counterfeit  Plantagenet,  now 
Lambert  Simnell  again,  and  the  crafty  priest  his 
tutor.  For  Lambert,  the  king  would  not  take  his 
life,  both  out  of  magnanimity,  taking  him  but  as 
an  image  of  wax  that  others  had  tempered  and 
moulded  ;  and  likewise  out  of  wisdom,  thinking 
that  if  he  suffered  death,  he  would  be  forgotten 
too  soon  ;  but  being  kept  alive,  he  would  be  a  con 
tinual  spectacle,  and  a  kind  of  remedy  against  the 
like  enchantments  of  people  in  time  to  come.  For 
which  cause  he  was  taken  into  service  in  his  court 
to  a  base  office  in  his  kitchen  ;  so  that,  in  a  kind 
of  "  mattacina"  of  human  force,  he  turned  a  broach 
that  had  worn  a  crown;  whereas  fortune  com- 
jtiionly  doth  not  bring  in  a  comedy  or  farce,  after 
a  tragedy.  And  afterwards  he  was  preferred  to 
he  one  of  the  king's  falconers.  As  to  the  priest. 
he  was  committed  close  prisoner,  and  heard  of 
no  more;  the  king  loving  to  seal  up  his  own 
dangers. 

After  the  battle,  the  king  went  to  Lincoln,  where 
he  caused  supplications  and  thanksgivings  to  be 
make  for  his  deliverance  and  victory.  And  that 
his  devotions  might  go  round  in  circle,  he  sent  his 
banner  to  be  offered  to  our  lady  of  Walsingharn. 
where  before  he  made  his  vows.  And  thus  deli 
vered  of  this  so  strange  an  engine,  and  new  in 
vention  of  fortune,  he  returned  to  his  former  con 
fidence  of  mind ;  thinking  now,  that  all  his  mis 
fortunes  had  come  at  once.  But  it  fell  out  unto 
him  according  to  the  speech  of  the  common  people 
in  the  beginning  of  his  reign,  that  said,  « It  was 
a  token  he  should  reign  in  labour,  because  his  reign 
began  with  a  sickness  of  sweat."  But  howso 
ever  the  king  thought  himself  now  in  a  haven,  yet 
such  was  his  wisdom,  as  his  confidence  did  sel 
dom  darken  his  foresight,  especially  in  thing?  near 
hand.  And  therefore,  awakened  by  so  fresh  and 
unexpected  dangers,  he  entered  into  due  consi 
deration,  as  well  how  to  weed  out  the  partakers 
of  the  former  rebellion,  as  to  kill  the  seeds  of  the 
like  in  time  to  come;  and  withal  to  takeaway  all 
shelters  and  harbours  for  discontented  persons, 
whore  they  might  hatch  and  foster  rebellions, 
which  afterwards  might  gather  strength  and  mo 


tion.  And  first,  he  did  yet  again  make  a  pro 
gress  from  Lincoln  to  the  northern  parts,  though 
it  were  indeed  rather  an  itinerary  circuit  of  jus 
tice  than  a  progress.  For  all  along  as  he  went, 
with  much  severity  and  strict  inquisition,  partly 
by  martial  law  and  partly  by  commission,  were 
punished  the  adherents  and  aiders  of  the  late  rebels. 
Not  all  by  death,  for  the  field  had  drawn  much 
blood,  but  by  fines  and  ransom,  which  spared  life 
and  raised  treasure.  Amongst  other  crimes  of 
this  nature,  there  was  diligent  inquiry  made  of 
such  as  had  raised  a  bruit  and  rumour  a  little  be 
fore  the  field  fought,  "  that  the  rebels  had  the  day ; 
and  that  the  king's  army  was  overthrown,  and 
the  king  fled."  Whereby  it  was  supposed 
that  many  succours,  which  otherwise  would  have 
come  unto  the  king,  were  cunningly  put  off  and 
kept  back.  Which  charge  and  accusation,  though 
it  had  some  ground,  yet  it  was  industriously  em 
braced  and  put  on  by  divers,  who  having  been  in 
themselves  not  the  best  affected  to  the  king's  part, 
nor  forward  to  come  to  his  aid,  were  glad  to  ap 
prehend  this  colour  to  cover  their  neglect  and  cold 
ness,  under  the  pretence  of  such  discouragements. 
Which  cunning  nevertheless  the  king  would  not 
understand,  though  he  lodged  it,  and  noted  it  in 
some  particulars  as  his  manner  was. 

But  for  the  extirpating  of  the  roots  and  cause 
of  the  like  commotions  in  time  to  come,  the  king 
began  to  find  where  his  shoe  did  wring  him,  and 
that  it  was  his  depressing  of  the  house  of  York 
that  did  rankle  and  fester  the  affections  of  his  peo 
ple.  And  therefore  being  now  too  wise  to  disdain 
perils  any  longer,  and  willing  to  give  some  con 
tentment  in  that  kind,  at  least  in  ceremony,  he  re 
solved  at  last  to  proceed  to  the  coronation  of  his 
queen.  And  therefore  at  his  coming  to  London, 
where  he  entered  in  state,  and  in  a  kind  of  tri 
umph,  and  celebrated  his  victory  with  two  days 
of  devotion,  for  the  first  day  he  repaired  to  Paul's, 
and  had  the  hymn  of  "Te  Deum"  sung,  and  the 
morrow  after  he  went  in  procession,  and  heard 
the  sermon  at  the  cross,  the  queen  was  with  great 
solemnity  crowned  at  Westminister,  the  five-and- 
twentieth  of  November,  in  the  third  year  of  his 
reign,  which  was  about  two  years  after  the  mar 
riage  ;  like  an  old  christening,  that  had  stayed  long 
for  godfathers.  Which  strange  and  unusual  dis 
tance  of  time  made  it  subject  to  every  man's  note, 
that  it  was  an  act  against  his  stomach,  and  put 
upon  him  by  necessity  and  reason  of  state.  Soon 
after,  to  show  that  it  was  now  fair  weather  again, 
and  that  the  imprisonment  of  Thomas,  Marquis 
Dorset,  was  rather  upon  suspicion  of  the  time  than 
of  the  man,  he,  the  said  marquis,  was  set  at  1>- 
berty  without  examination  or  other  circumstance. 
At  that  time  also  the  king  sent  an  ambassador 
unto  Pope  Innocent,  signifying  unto  him  this  his 
marriage;  and  that  now,  like  another  JEneas,  he 
had  passed  through  the  floods  of  his  former  trou 
bles  and  travels,  and  was  arrived  unto  a  safe 
2E 


326 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


haven:  and  thanking-  his  holiness  that  he  had 
honoured  the  celebration  of  his  marriage  with  the 
presence  of  his  ambassador  ;  and  offering  both  his 
person  and  the  forces  of  his  kingdom,  upon  all  oc 
casions,  to  do  him  service. 

The  ambassador  making  his  oration  to  the  pope, 
in  the  presence  of  the  cardinals,  did  so  magnify 
the  king  and  queen,  as  was  enough  to  glut  the 
hearers.  But  then  he  did  again  so  extol  and  dei 
fy  the  pope,  as  made  all  that  he  had  said  in  praise 
of  his  master  and  mistress  seem  temperate  and 
passable.  But  he  was  very  honourably  entertain 
ed,  and  extremely  much  made  on  by  the  pope : 
who  knowing  himself  to  be  lazy  and  unprofitable 
to  the  Christian  world,  was  wonderfully  glad  to 
hear  that  there  were  such  echoes  of  him  sounding 
in  remote  parts.  He  obtained  also  of  the  pope  a 
very  just  and  honourable  bull,  qualifying  the  pri 
vileges  of  sanctuary,  wherewith  the  king  had  been 
extremely  gulled  in  three  points. 

xThe  first,  that  if  any  sanctuary  man  did  by  night, 
or  otherwise,  get  out  of  sanctuary  privily,  and 
commit  mischief  and  trespass,  and  then  come  in 
again,  he  should  lose  the  benefit  of  sanctuary  for 
ever  after.  The  second,  that  howsoever  the  per 
son  of  the  sanctuary  man  was  protected  from  his 
creditors,  yet  his  goods  out  of  sanctuary  should 
not.  The  third,  that  if  any  took  sanctuary  for  case 
of  treason,  the  king  might  appoint  him  keepers  to 
look  to  him  in  sanctuary. 

The  king  also,  for  the  better  securing  of  his  es 
tate  against  mutinous  and  malcontented  subjects, 
whereof  he  saw  the  realm  was  full,  who  might, 
have  their  refuge  into  Scotland,  which  was  not 
under  key  as  the  ports  were ;  for  that  cause  rather 
than  for  any  doubt  of  hostility  from  those  parts, 
before  his  coming  to  London,  when  he  was  at 
Newcastle,  had  sent  a  solemn  ambassage  unto 
James  the  Third,  King  of  Scotland,  to  treat  and 
conclude  a  peace  with  him.  The  ambassadors 
were,  Richard  Fox,  Bishop  of  Exeter,  and  Sir 
Richard  Edgcombe,  comptroller  of  the  king's 
house,  who  were  honourably  received  and  enter 
tained  there.  But  the  King  of  Scotland,  labour 
ing  of  the  same  disease  that  King  Henry  did, 
though  more  mortal,  as  afterwards  appeared,  that 
is,  discontented  subjects,  apt  to  rise  and  raise  tu 
mult,  although  in  his  own  affection  he  did  much 
desire  to  make  a  peace  with  the  king;  yet  finding 
his  nobles  averse,  and  not  daring  to  displease 
them,  concluded  only  a  truce  for  seven  years ; 
giving  nevertheless  promise  in  private,  that  it 
should  be  renewed  from  time  to  time  during  the 
two  king's  lives. 

Hitherto  the  king  had  been  exercised  in  settling 
his  affairs  at  home.  But  about  this  time  brake 
forth  an  occasion  that  drew  him  to  look  abroad, 
and  to  hearken  to  foreign  business.  Charles  the 
Eighth,  the  French  king,  by  the  virtue  and  good  for- 
tu  ne  of 'his  two  immediate  predecessors,  Charles  the 
Seventh,  his  grandfather,  and  Lewis  the  Eleventh, 


!  his  father,  received  the  kingdom  of  France  in  more 
!  flourishing  and  spread  estate  than  it  had  been  of 
many  years  before ;   being  redintegrate  in  those 
principal   members,    which  anciently   had   been 
portions  of  the  crown  of  France,  and  were  after 
ward  dissevered,  so  as  they  remained  only  in  ho 
mage  and  not  in  sovereignty,  being  governed  by  ab- 
|  solute  princes  of  their  own,  Anjou,  Normandy,  Pro- 
[  vence,  and  Burgundy.     There  remained  only  Bri 
tain  to  be  reunited,  and  so  the  monarchy  of  France 
j  to  be  reduced  to  the  ancient  terms  and  bounds. 

King  Charles  was  not  a  little  inflamed  with  an 
!  ambition  to  re-purchase  and  re-annex  that  duchy  : 
which  his  ambition  was  a  wise  and  well-weighed 
ambition  ;  not  like  unto  the  ambitions  of  his  suc 
ceeding  enterprises  of  Italy.  For  at  that  time, 
being  newly  come  to  the  crown,  he  was  somewhat 
guided  by  his  father's  counsels,  counsels  not  coun 
sellors,  for  his  father  was  his  own  council,  and 
had  few  able  men  about  him.  And  that  king,  he 
knew  well,  had  ever  distasted  the  designs  of  Italy, 
and  in  particular  had  an  eye  upon  Britain.  There 
were  many  circumstances  that  did  feed  the  am 
bition  of  Charles  with  pregnant  and  apparent 
hopes  of  success  :  the  Duke  of  Britain,  old,  and 
entered  into  a  lethargy,  and  served  with  merce 
nary  counsellors,  father  of  two  only  daughters, 
the  one  sickly  and  not  likely  to  continue ;  King 
Charles  himself  in  the  flower  of  age,  and  the  sub 
jects  of  France  at  that  time  well  trained  for  war, 
both  for  leaders  and  soldiers ;  men  of  service  be 
ing  not  yet  worn  out  since  the  wars  of  Lewis 
against  Burgundy.  He  found  himself  also  in 
peace  with  all  his  neighbour  princes.  As  for 
those  that  might  oppose  to  his  enterprise,  Maxi 
milian  King  of  the  Romans,  his  rival  in  the  same 
desires,  (as  well  for  the  duchy,  as  the  daughter,) 
feeble  in  means  ;  and  King  Henry  of  England,  as 
well  somewhat  obnoxious  to  him  for  his  favours 
and  benefits,  as  busied  in  his  particular  troubles 
at  home.  There  was  also  a  fair  and  specious 
occasion  offered  him  to  hide  his  ambition,  and  to 
justify  his  warring  upon  Britain  ;  for  that  tho 
duke  had  received  and  succoured  Lewis  Duke  of 
Orleans,  and  other  of  the  French  nobility,  which 
had  taken  arms  against  their  king.  Wherefore, 
King  Charles,  being  resolved  upon  that  war, 
knew  well  he  could  not  receive  any  opposition  so 
potent,  as  if  King  Henry  should,  either  upon  po 
licy  of  state  in  preventing  the  growing  greatness  of 
France,  or  upon  gratitude  unto  the  Duke  of  Britain 
for  his  former  favours  in  the  time  of  his  distress,  es 
pouse  thatquarrel,  and  declare  himself  in  aid  of  the 
duke.  Therefore  he  no  sooner  heard  that  King 
Henry  was  settled  by  his  victory,  but  forthwith 
he  sent  ambassadors  unto  him  to  pray  his  assist 
ance,  or  at  least  that  he  would  stand  neutral. 
Which  ambassadors  found  the  king  at  Leicester, 
and  delivered  their  embassage  to  this  effect:  they 
|  first  imparted  unto  the  king  the  success  that  their 
I  master  had  had  a  little  before  against  Maximilian, 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


327 


in  recovery  of  certain  towns  from  him ;  which 
was  done  in  a  kind  of  privacy,  and  inwardness 
towards  the  king,  as  if  the  French  king  did  not 
esteem  him  for  an  outward  or  formal  confederate, 
but  as  one  that  had  part  in  his  affections  and  for 
tunes,  and  with  whom  he  took  pleasure  to  commu 
nicate  his  business.  After  this  compliment,  and 
some  gratulation  for  the  king's  victory,  they  fell 
to  their  errand ;  declaring  to  the  king,  that  their 
master  was  enforced  to  enter  into  a  just  and  neces 
sary  war  with  the  Duke  of  Britain,  for  that  he  had 
received  and  succoured  those  that  were  traitors 
and  declared  enemies  unto  his  person  and  state. 
That  they  were  no  mean,  distressed,  and  calami 
tous  persons  that  fled  to  him  for  refuge,  but  of  so 
great  quality,  as  it  was  apparent  that  they  came 
not  thither  to  protect  their  own  fortune,  but  to  in 
fest  and  invade  his ;  the  head  of  them  being  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  the  first  prince  of  the  blood  and 
the  second  person  of  France.  That  therefore, 
rightly  to  understand  it,  it  was  rather  on  their 
master's  part  a  defensive  war  than  an  offensive  ; 
as  that  could  not  be  omitted  or  forborne,  if  he 
tendered  the  conservation  of  his  own  estate  ;  and 
that  it  was  not  the  first  blow  that  made  the  war 
invasive,  for  that  no  wise  prince  would  stay  for, 
but  the  first  provocation,  or  at  least  the  first  pre 
paration  ;  nay,  that  this  war  was  rather  a  sup 
pression  of  rebels,  than  a  war  with  a  just  enemy ; 
where  the  case  is,  that  his  subjects,  traitors,  are 
received  by  the  Duke  of  Britain  his  homager. 
That  King  Henry  knew  well  what  went  upon  it 
in  example,  if  neighbour  princes  should  patronise 
and  comfort  rebels  against  the  law  of  nations  and 
of  leagues.  Nevertheless  that  their  master  was 
not  ignorant,  that  the  king  had  been  beholden  to 
the  Duke  of  Britain  in  his  adversity;  as  on  the 
other  side,  they  knew  he  would  not  forget  also 
the  readiness  of  their  king,  in  aiding  him  when 
the  Duke  of  Britain  or  his  mercenary  counsellors 
failed  him,  and  would  have  betrayed  him ;  and 
that  there  was  a  great  difference  between  the 
courtesies  received  from  their  master,  and  the 
Duke  of  Britain  :  for  that  the  duke's  might  have 
ends  of  utility  and  bargain ;  whereas  their 
master's  could  not  have  proceeded  but  out  of  en 
tire  affection ;  for  that,  if  it  had  been  measured  by 
a  politic  line,  it  had  been  better  for  his  affairs, 
that  a  tyrant  should  have  reigned  in  England, 
troubled  and  hated,  than  such  a  prince,  whose 
virtues  could  not  fail  to  make  him  great  and  po 
tent,  whensoever  he  was  come  to  be  master  of 
his  affairs.  But  howsoever  it  stood  for  the  point 
of  obligation  which  the  king  might  owe  to  the 
Duke  of  Britain,  yet  their  master  was  well  as 
sured,  it  would  not  divert  King  Henry  of  England 
from  doing  that  that  was  just,  nor  ever  embark 
him  in  so  ill-grounded  a  quarrel.  Therefore, 
since  this  war,  which  their  master  was  now  to 
make,  was  but  to  deliver  himself  from  imminent 
dangers,  their  king  hoped  the  king  would  show 


the  like  affection  to  the  conservation  of  their 
master's  estate,  as  their  master  had,  when  time 
was,  showed  to  the  king's  acquisition  of  his  king 
dom.  At  the  least,  that,  according  to  the  inclination 
which  the  king  had  ever  professed  of  peace,  he 
would  look  on,  and  stand  neutral ;  for  that  their 
master  could  not  with  reason  press  him  to  under 
take  part  in  the  war,  being  so  newly  settled  and 
recovered  from  intestine  seditions.  But  touching 
the  mystery  of  re-annexing  of  the  Duchy  of  Britain 
to  the  crown  of  France,  either  by  war,  or  by  mar 
riage  with  the  daughter  of  Britain,  the  ambas 
sadors  bare  aloof  from  it  as  from  a  rock,  knowing 
that  it  made  most  against  them.  And  therefore 
by  all  means  declined  any  mention  thereof,  but 
contrariwise  interlaced,  in  their  conference  with 
the  king,  the  assured  purpose  of  their  master  to 
match  with  the  daughter  of  Maximilian ;  and 
entertained  the  king  with  some  wandering  dis 
courses  of  their  king's  purpose,  to  recover  by  arms 
his  right  to  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  by  an  expe 
dition  in  person  ;  all  to  remove  the  king  from  all 
jealousy  of  any  design  in  these  hither  parts  upon 
Britain,  otherwise  than  for  quenching  of  the  fire 
which  he  feared  might  be  kindled  in  his  own  es 
tate. 

The  king,  after  advice  taken  with  his  council, 
made  answer  to  the  ambassadors :  and  first  re- 
turned  their  compliment,  showing  he  was  right 
glad  of  the  French  king's  reception  of  those 
towns  from  Maximilian.  Then  he  familiarly  re 
lated  some  particular  passages  of  his  own  adven 
tures  and  victory  passed.  As  to  the  business  of 
Britain,  the  king  answered  in  few  words;  that 
the  French  king,  and  Duke  of  Britain,  were  the 
two  persons  to  whom  he  was  most  obliged  of  all 
men ;  and  that  he  should  think  himself  very  un 
happy,  if  things  should  go  so  between  them,  as 
he  should  not  be  able  to  acquit  himself  in  grati 
tude  towards  them  both;  and  that  there  was  no 
means  for  him  as  a  Christian  king,  and  a  com 
mon  friend  to  them,  to  satisfy  all  obligations  both 
to  God  and  man,  but  to  offer  himself  for  a  medi 
ator  of  an  accord  and  peace  between  them;  by 
which  course,  he  doubted  not  but  their  king  s 
estate,  and  honour  both,  would  be  preserved  with 
more  safety  and  less  envy  than  by  a  war;  uhd 
that  he  would  spare  no  costs  or  pains,  no  if  it 
were  to  go  on  pilgrimage,  for  so  good  an  effect; 
and  concluded,  that  in  this  great  affair,  which  he 
took  so  much  to  heart,  he  would  express  himself 
more  fully  by  an  ambassage,  which  he  would 
speedily  despatch  unto  the  French  king  for  that 
purpose.  And  in  this  sort  the  French  ambassa 
dors  were  dismissed  :  the  king  avoiding  to  under 
stand  any  thing  touching  the  re-annexing  of 
Britain,  as  the  ambassadors  had  avoided  to  men 
tion  it :  save  that  he  gave  a  little  touch  of  it  in 
the  word  envy.  And  so  it  was,  that  the  king 
was  neither  so  shallow,  nor  so  ill-advertised,  as 
not  to  perceive  the  intention  of  the  French  for 


328 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


the  investing  himself  of  Britain.     But  first,  he 
was  utterly  unwilling-,  howsoever  he  gave  out,  to 
enter  into  war  with  France.     A  fame  of  a  war  he 
liked  well,  but  not  an  achievement;  for  the  one 
he  thought  would  make  him  richer,  and  the  other 
poorer;  and  he  was  possessed  with  many  secret 
fears   touching  his  own  people,  which   he  was 
therefore  loath  to  arm,  and  put  weapons  into  their 
hands.     Yet  notwithstanding,  as  a  prudent  and 
courageous  prince,  he  was  not  so  averse  from  a 
war,  hut  that  he  was  resolved  to  choose  it,  rather 
than  to  have  Britain  carried  by  France,  being  so 
great  and  opulent  a  duchy,  and  situate  so  oppor 
tunely    to   annoy   England,   either   for  coast   or 
trade.     But  the  king's  hopes  were,  that  partly 
by  negligence,  commonly  imputed  to  the  French, 
especially   in  the   court   of  a  )roung  king,  and 
partly   by   the   native   power   of   Britain    itself, 
which  was  not  small ;  but  chiefly  in  respect  of 
the  great  party  that  the  Duke  of  Orleans  had  in 
the  kingdom  of  France,  and   thereby  means  to 
stir  up  civil  troubles,  to  divert  the  French  king 
from  the  enterprise  of  Britain.     And   lastly,  in 
regard   of  the   power   of  Maximilian,  who  was 
co-rival  to  the  French  king  in  that  pursuit,  the 
enterprise  would  either  bow  to  a  peace,  or  break 
in  itself.     In  all  which  the  king  measured  and 
valued    things   amiss,   as   afterwards    appeared. 
He  sent  therefore  forthwith  to  the  French  king 
Christopher  Urswick,  his  chaplain,  a  person  by 
him  much  trusted  and  employed  :  choosing  him 
the  rather,  because  he  was  a  churchman,  as  best 
sorting  with   an   embassy   of  pacification :    and 
giving  him  also  a  commission,  that  if  the  French 
king  consented  to  treat,  he  should  thence  repair 
to  the  Duke  of  Britain,  and  ripen  the  treaty  on 
both   parts.     Urswick   made   declaration   to   the 
French  king,  much  to  the  purpose  of  the  king's 
answer  to  the  French  ambassadors  here,  instill 
ing  also  tenderly,  some  overture  of  receiving  to 
grace  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  some  taste  of 
conditions   of   accord.     But    the   French    king, 
on   the  other  side   proceeded   not  sincerely,  but 
with  a  great  deal  of  art  and  dissimulation  in  this 
treaty;  having  for  his  end,  to  gain  time,  and  so 
put  off  the  English  succours  under  hope  of  peace, 
till  he  had  got  good  footing  in  Britain  by  force  of 
arms.     Wherefore  he  answered  the  ambassador, 
that  he  would  put  himself  into  the  king's  hands, 
and  make  him  arbiter  of  the  peace ;  and  willingly 
consented,  that  the  ambassador  should  straight- 
ways  pass  into  Britain,  to  signify  this  his  con 
sent,  and   to   know  the   duke's  mind   likewise; 
well   foreseeing  that  the   Duke  of  Orleans,  by 
whom   the    Duke   of    Britain   was   wholly  led, 
taking  himself  to   be  upon  terms  irreconcilable 
with  him,  would  admit  of  no  treaty  of  peace. 
Whereby  he  should  in  one,  both  generally  abroad 
veil  over  his  ambition,  and  win  the  reputation  of 
just    and    moderate    proceedings ;     and    should 
withal   pndear  himself  in  the  affections  of  the 


King  of  England,  as  one  that  had  committed  all 
to  his  will ;  nay,  and  which  was  yet  more  fine, 
make  faith  in  him,  that  although  he  went  on  with 
the  war,  yet  it  should  be  but  with  the  sword  in 
his  hand,  to  bend  the  stiffness  of  the  other  party 
to  accept  of  peace :  and  so  the  king  should  take 
no  umbrage  of  his  arming  and  prosecution;  but 
the  treaty  to  be  kept  on  foot  to  the  very  last  in 
stant,  till  he  were  master  of  the  field. 

Which  grounds  being  by  the  French  king 
wisely  laid,  all  things  fell  out  as  he  expected. 
For  when  the  English  ambassador  came  to  the 
court  of  Britain,  the  duke  was  then  scarcely  per 
fect  in  his  memory,  and  all  things  were  directed 
by  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  who  gave -audience  to 
the  chaplain  Urswick,  and  upon  his  ambassage 
delivered,  made  answer  in  somewhat  high  terms : 
that  the  Duke  of  Britain  having  been  a  host,  and 
a  kind  of  parent  or  foster-father  to  the  king,  in 
his  tenderness  of  age  and  weakness  of  fortune, 
did  look  for  at  this  time  from  King  Henry,  the 
renowned  King  of  England,  rather  brave  troops 
for  his  succours,  than  a  vain  treaty  of  peace. 
And  if  the  king  could  forget  the  good  offices  of 
the  duke  done  unto  him  aforetime;  yet,  he  knew 
well,  he  would  in  his  wisdom  consider  of  the 
future,  how  much  it  imported  his  own  safety  and 
reputation,  both  in  foreign  parts,  and  with  his 
own  people,  not  to  suffer  Britain,  the  old  con 
federates  of  England,  to  be  swallowed  up  by 
France,  and  so  many  good  ports  and  strong  towns 
upon  the  coast  be  in  the  command  of  so  potent  a 
neighbour  king,  and  so  ancient  an  enemy:  and 
therefore  humbly  desired  the  king  to  think  of  this 
business  as  his  own:  and  therewith  brake  off  and 
denied  any  further  conference  for  treaty. 

Urswick  returned  first  to  the  French  king,  and 
related  to  him  what  had  passed.  Who  finding 
things  to  sort  to  his  desire,  took  hold  of  them,  and 
said  ;  that  the  ambassador  might  perceive  now 
that,  which  he  for  his  part  partly  imagined  before. 
That  considering  in  what  hands  the  Duke  of 
Britain  was,  there  would  be  no  peace,  but  by  a 
mixed  treaty  of  force  and  persuasion :  and  there 
fore  he  would  go  on  with  the  one,  and  desired  the 
dng  not  to  desist  from  the  other.  But  for  his 
own  part,  he  did  faithfully  promise  to  be  still  in 
he  king's  power,  to  rule  him  in  the  matter  of 
peace.  This  was  accordingly  represented  unto 
he  king  by  Urswick  at  his  return,  and  in  such  a 
ashion,  as  if  the  treaty  were  in  no  sort  desperate, 
nit  rather  stayed  for  a  better  hour,  till  the  ham- 
Tier  had  wrought  and  beat  the  party  of  Britain 
more  pliant.  Whereupon  there  passed  continu 
ity  packets  and  despatches  between  the  two 
\ings,  from  the  one  out  of  desire,  and  from  the 
>ther  out  of  dissimulation,  about  the  negotiation 
f  peace.  The  French  king  mean  while  invaded 
Britain  with  great  forces,  and  distressed  the  city 
>f  Nantz  with  a  strait  siege;  and,  as  one,  who 
hough  he  had  no  great  judgment,  yet  had  that, 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


329 


that  he  could  dissemble  at  home,  the  more  he  did 
urge  the  prosecution  of  the  war,  the  more  he  did, 
at  the  same  time,  urge  the  solicitation  of  the 
peace.  Insomuch  as  during  the  siege  of  Nantz, 
after  many  letters  and  particular  messages,  the 
better  to  maintain  his  dissimulation,  and  to  refresh 
the  treaty,  he  sent  Barnard  D'Aubigney,  a  person 
of  good  quality,  to  the  king,  earnestly  to  desire 
him  to  make  an  end  of  the  business  how 
soever. 

The  king  was  no  less  ready  to  revive  and 
quicken  the  treaty ;  and  thereupon  sent  three 
commissioners,  the  abbot  of  Abingdon,  Sir 
Richard  Tunstal,  and  chaplain  Urswick  formerly 
employed,  to  do  their  utmost  endeavours  to  man 
age  the  treaty  roundly  and  strongly. 

About  this  time  the  Lord  Woodville,  uncle  to 
the  queen,  a  valiant  gentleman,  and  desirous  of 
honour,  sued  to  the  king  that  he  might  raise  some 
power  of  voluntaries  underhand,  and  without  li 
cense  or  passport  (wherein  the  king  might  any 
ways  appear)  go  to  the  aid  of  the  Duke  of  Britain. 
The  king  denied  his  request,  or  at  least  seemed 
so  to  do,  and  laid  strait  commandment  upon  him 
that  he  should  not  stir,  for  that  the  king  thought 
his  honour  would  suffer  therein,  during  a  treaty,  to 
better  a  party.  Nevertheless  this  lord,  either  being 
unruly,  or  out  of  conceit  that  the  king  would  not 
inwardly  dislike  that,  which  he  would  not  openly 
avow,  sailed  directly  over  to  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
whereof  he  was  governor,  and  levied  a  fair  troop 
of  four  hundred  men,  and  with  them  passed  over 
into  Britain,  and  joined  himself  with  the  duke's 
forces.  The  news  whereof,  when  it  came  to  the 
French  court,  put  divers  young  bloods  into  such  a 
/  fury,  as  the  English  ambassadors  were  not  with 
out  peril  to  be  outraged.  But  the  French  king, 
both  to  preserve  the  privilege  of  ambassadors,  and 
being  conscious  to  himself  that  in  the  business  of 
peace  lie  himself  was  the  greater  dissembler  of  the 
two,  forbad  all  injuries  of  fact  or  word  against  their 
persons  or  followers.  And  presently  came  an 
agent  from  the  king,  to  purge  himself  touching 
the  Lord  Woodville's  going  over ;  using  for  a 
principal  argument,  to  demonstrate  that  it  was 
without  his  privity,  for  that  the  troops  were  so 
small, .as  neither  had  the  face  of  a  succour  by  au 
thority,  nor  could  much  advance  the  Britain  af 
fairs.  To  which  message,  although  the  French 
king  gave  no  full  credit,  yet  he  made  fair  weather 
with  the  king,  and  seemed  satisfied.  Soon  after 
the  English  ambassadors  returned,  having  two  of 
them  been  likewise  with  the  Duke  of  Britain,  and 
found  things  in  no  other  terms  than  they  were  be 
fore.  Upon  their  return,  they  informed  the  king 
of  the  state  of  the  affairs,  and  how  far  the  French 
king  was  from  any  true  meaning  of  peace;  and 
therefore  he  was  now  to  advise  of  some  other 
course  ;  neither  was  the  king  himself  led  all  this 
while  with  credulity  merely,  as  was  generally 
supposed ;  but  his  error  was  not  so  much  facility  of  | 

VOL.  I.— 12 


belief,  as  an  ill  measuring  of  the  forces  of  the 
other  party. 

For,  as  was  partly  touched  before,  the  king 
had  cast  the  business  thus  with  himself.  He  took 
it  for  granted,  in  his  own  judgment,  that  the  wat 
of  Britain,  in  respect  of  the  strength  of  the  towns 
and  of  the  party,  could  not  speedily  come  to  a  pe 
riod.  For  he  conceived,  that  the  counsels  of  a 
war,  that  was  undertaken  by  the  French  king, 
then  childless,  against  an  heir  apparent  of  France, 
would  be  very  faint  and  slow ;  and,  besides,  that 
it  was  not  possible,  but  that  the  state  of  France 
should  be  embroiled  with  some  troubles  and  al 
terations  in  favour  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  He 
conceived  likewise,  that  Maximilian,  King  of  the 
Romans,  was  a  prince,  warlike  and  potent;  who, 
he  made  account,  would  give  succours  to  the  Bri- 
tains  roundly.  So  then  judging  it  would  be  a 
work  of  time,  he  laid  his  plot  how  he  might  best 
make  use  of  that  time  for  his  own  affairs.  Where 
in  first  he  thought  to  make  his  vantage  upon  his 
parliament ;  knowing  that  they  being  affectionate 
unto  the  quarrel  of  Britain,  would  give  treasure 
largely ;  which  treasure,  as  a  noise  of  war  might 
draw  forth,  so  a  peace  succeeding  might  coffer  up. 
And  because  he  knew  his  people  were  hot  upon 
the  business,  he  chose  rather  to  seem  to  be  deceiv 
ed  and  lulled  asleep  by  the  French  than  to  be  back 
ward  in  himself;  considering  his  subjects  were  not 
so  fully  capable  of  the  reasons  of  state,  which 
made  him  hold  back.  Wherefore  to  all  these 
purposes  he  saw  no  other  expedient,  than  to  set 
and  keep  on  foot  a  continual  treaty  of  peace,  lay 
ing  down,  and  taking  it  up  again,  as  the  occurrence 
required.  Besides,  he  had  in  consideration  the 
point  of  honour,  in  bearing  the  blessed  person  of 
a  pacificator.  He  thought  likewise  to  make  use 
of  the  envy  that  the  French  king  met  with  by  oc 
casion  of  this  war  of  Britain,  in  strengthening 
himself  with  new  alliances ;  as,  namely,  that  of 
Ferdinando  of  Spain,  with  whom  he  had  ever  a 
consent  even  in  nature  and  customs  ;  and  likewise 
with  Maximilian,  who  was  particularly  interest 
ed.  So  that  in  substance  he  promised  himself 
money,  honour,  friends,  and  peace  in  the  end.  But 
those  things  were  too  fine  to  be  fortunate  and  suc 
ceed  in  all  parts ;  for  that  great  affairs  are  com 
monly  too  rough  and  stubborn  to  be  wrought  upon 
by  the  finer  edges  or  points  of  wit.  The  king  was 
likewise  deceived  in  his  two  main  grounds.  For 
although  he  had  reason  to  conceive  that  the  coun 
cil  of  France  would  be  wary  to  put  the  king  into 
a  war  against  the  heir  apparent  of  France ;  yet  he 
did  not  consider  that  Charles  was  not  guided  by 
any  of  the  principal  of  the  blood  or  nobility,  but 
by  mean  men,  who  would  make  it  their  master 
piece  of  credit  and  favour,  to  give  venturous  coun 
sels  which  no  great  or  wise  man  durst  or  would. 
And  for  Maximilian,  he  was  thought  then  a  great 
er  matter  than  he  was ;  his  unstable  and  necess» 
tous  courses  being  not  then  known. 
2F2 


330 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


After  consultation  with  the  ambassadors,  who 
brought  him  no  other  news  than  he  expected  be 
fore,  though  he  would  not  seem  to  know  it  till  then, 
he  presently  summoned  his  parliament,  and  in 
open  parliament  propounded  the  cause  of  Britain 
to  botlt  houses,  by  his  chancellor,  Morton,  Arch 
bishop  of  Canterbury,  who  spake  to  this  effect. 

'  My  lords  and  masters,  the  king's  grace,  our 
sovereign  lord,  hath  commanded  me  to  declare  unto 
you  the  causes  that  have  moved  him  at  this  time  to 
summon  this  his  parliament ;  which  I  shall  do  in 
few  words,  craving  pardon  of  his  grace,  and  you 
all,  if  I  perform  it  not  as  I  would. 

"  His  grace  doth  first  of  all  let  you  know,  that  he 
retaineth  in  thankful  memory  the  love  and  loyalty 
shown  to  him  by  you,  at  your  last  meeting,  in 
establishment  of  his  royalty;  freeing  and  dis 
charging  of  his  partakers,  and  confiscation  of  his 
traitors  and  rebels ;  more  than  which  could  not 
come  from  subjects  to  their  sovereign  in  one  action. 
This  he  taketh  so  well  at  your  hands,  as  he  hath 
made  it  a  resolution  to  himself  to  communicate 
with  so  loving  and  well-approved  subjects,  in  all 
affairs  that  are  of  public  nature  at  home  or  abroad. 

"  Two  therefore  are  the  causes  of  your  present 
assembling  :  the  one  a  foreign  business,  the  other 
matter  of  government  at  home. 

"  The  French  king,  as  no  doubt  ye  have  heard, 
maketh  at  this  present  hot  war  upon  the  Duke  of 
Britain.  His  army  is  now  before  Nantz,  and 
holdeth  it  straitly  besieged,  being  the  principal 
city,  if  not  in  ceremony  and  pre-eminence,  yet  in 
strength  and  wealth  of  that  duchy.  Ye  may 
guess  at  his  hopes,  by  his  attempting  of  the  hard 
est  part  of  the  war  first.  The  cause  of  this  war 
he  knoweth  best.  He  allegeth  the  entertaining 
and  succouring  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  some 
other  French  lords,  whom  the  king  taketh  for  his 
enemies.  Others  divine  of  other  matters.  Both 
parts  have,  by  their  ambassadors,  divers  times 
prayed  the  king's  aids :  the  French  king  aids  or 
neutrality;  the  Britains  aids  simply;  for  so  their 
case  requireth.  The  king,  as  a  Christian  prince, 
and  blessed  son  of  the  holy  church,  hath  offered 
himself  as  a  mediator  to  treat  of  a  peace  between 
them.  The  French  king  yieldeth  to  treat,  but 
will  not  stay  the  prosecution  of  the  war.  The 
Britains  that  desire  peace  most  hearken  to  it  least ; 
not  upon  confidence  or  stiffness,  but  upon  distrust 
of  true  meaning,  seeing  the  war  goes  on.  So  as 
the  king,  after  as  much  pains  and  care  to  effect  a 
peace  as  ever  he  took  in  any  business,  not  being 
able  to  remote  the  prosecution  on  the  one  side 
rit/r  the  distrust  on  the  other,  caused  by  that  pro 
secution,  hath  let  fall  the  treaty ;  not  repenting 
of  it,  but  despairing  of  it  now  as  not  likely  to  suc 
ceed.  Therefore  by  this  narrative  you  now  under 
stand  the  state  of  the  question,  whereupon  the 
ing  prayeth  your  advice ;  which  is  no  other,  but 
whether  he  shall  enter  into  an  auxiliary  and  de 
fensive  war  for  the  Britains  against  France  ? 


|      "And  the  better  to  open  your  understandings 
j  in  this  affair,  the  king  hath  commanded  me  to  say 
I  somewhat  to  you  from  him,  of  the  persons  that  do 
I  intervene  in  this  business;  and  somewhat  of  the 
consequence   thereof,  as   it  hath  relation  to  this 
kingdom,  and  somewhat  of  the  example  of  it  in 
general;  making  nevertheless  no  conclusion   or 
judgment  of  any  point,  until  his  grace  hath  re 
ceived  your  faithful  and  politic  advices. 

"  First,  for  the  king  our  sovereign  hiius  If,  who 
is  the  principal  person  you  are  to  eye  in  t  ,is  busi 
ness  ;  his  grace  doth  profess,  that  lie  in.lyand 
constantly  desireth  to  reign  in  pence,  cut  his 
grace  saith  he  will  neither  buy  peace  v.  ith  dis 
honour,  nor  take  it  up  at  interest  of  dan_<  to  en 
sue;  but  shall  think  it  a  good  change,  it  please 
God  to  change  the  inward  troubles  ai,<s  ditions 
wherewith  he  hath  been  hitherto  <  xer<  .  d  into 
an  honourable  foreign  war.  And  t'er  t  ;  other 
two  persons  in  this  action,  the  Frei.cii  ng  and 
the  Duke  of  Britain,  his  grace  doth  de<  ,  re  unto 
you,  that  they  be  the  men  unto  whom  n-  :.s  of  all 
other  friends  and  allies  most  bound*  n  :  he  one 
having  held  over  him  his  hand  oCpmi  i,  u  IVom 
the  tyrant;  the  other  having-  reached  I  ,  h  unto 
him  his  hand  of  help  for  the  recovery  '  Hii;  king 
dom.  So  that  his  affection  toward  i  ,  in  his 
natural  person  is  upon  equal  terms.  Ai.  where 
as  you  may  have  heard  that  his  grace  \.as  en 
forced  to  fly  out  of  Britain  into  France  lor  doubts 
of  being  betrayed,  his  grace  would  not  in  any  sort 
have  that  reflect  upon  the  Duke  of  Brit  'in  in  de 
facement  of  his  former  benefits  ;  for  that  ho  is 
thoroughly  informed,  that  it  was  but  the  practice 
of  some  corrupt  persons  about  him,  during  the 
time  of  his  sickness,  altogether  without  his  con 
sent  or  privity. 

"But  howsoever  these  things  do  interest  his 
grace  in  this  particular,  yet  he  knoweth  well  that 
the  higher  bond  that  tieth  him  to  procure  by  all 
means  the  safety  and  welfare  of  his  loving  sub 
jects,  doth  disinterest  him  of  these  obligations  of 
gratitude  otherwise  than  thus;  that  if  his  grace 
be  forced  to  make  a\var,  he  do  it  without  passion 
or  ambition. 

"  For  the  consequence  of  this  action  towards 
this  kingdom,  it  is  much  as  the  French  king's  in 
tention  is.  For  if  it  be  no  more,  but  to  range  his 
subjects  to  reason,  who  bear  themselves  stout 
upon  the  strength  of  the  Duke  of  Britain,  it  is  no 
thing  to  us.  But  if  it  be  in  the  French  king's 
purpose,  or  if  it  should  not  be  in  his  purpose,  yet 
if  it  shall  follow  all  one,  as  if  it  were  sought,  that 
the  French  king  shall  make  a  province  of  Britain, 
and  join  it  to  the  crown  of  France  ;  then  it  is 
worthy  the  consideration,  how  this  may  import 
England,  as  well  in  the  increasement  of  the  great 
ness  of  France,  by  the  addition  of  such  a  country, 
that  stretcheth  his  boughs  unto  our  seas,  as  in  de 
priving  this  nation,  and  leaving  it  naked  of  so 
firm  and  assured  confederates  as  the  Britains  hava 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


331 


always  been.  For  then  it  will  come  to  pass,  that 
whereas  not  long1  since  this  realm  was  mighty 
upon  the  continent,  first  in  territory,  and  after  in 
alliance,  in  respect  of  Burgundy  and  Britain, 
which  were  confederates  indeed,  but  dependent 
confederates  ;  now  the  one  being  already  cast, 
partly  into  the  greatness  of  France,  and  partly  in 
to  that  of  Austria,  the  other  is  like  wholly  to  be 
cast  into  the  greatness  of  France  ;  and  this  island 
shall  remain  confined  in  eil'ect  within  the  salt 
waters,  and  girt  about  with  the  coast  countries 
of  two  mighty  monarchs. 

"  For  the  example,  it  resteth  likewise  upon  the 
same  question,  upon  the  French  king's  intent. 
For  if  Britain  be  carried  and  swallowed  up  by 
France,  as  the  world  abroad,  apt  to  impute-  and 
construe  the  actions  of  princes  to  ambition,  con 
ceive  it  will ;  then  it  is  an  example  very  danger 
ous  and  universal,  that  the  lesser  neighbour  state 
should  be  devoured  of  the  greater.  For  this  may 
be  the  case  of  Scotland  towards  England ;  of  Por 
tugal  towards  Spain;  of  the  smaller  estates  of 
Italy  towards  the  greater;  and  s^  of  Germany; 
or  as  if  some  of  you  of  the  commons  might  not 
live  and  dwell  safely  besides  some  of  these  great 
lords.  And  the  bringing  in  of  this  e-  miple  will 
be  chiefly  laid  to  the  king's  charge,  us  to  him  that 
was  most  interested  and  most  ah!.1  t  forbid  it. 
But  then  on  the  other  side,  there  is  so  lair  a  pre 
text  on  the  French  king's  part,  and  yet  pretext  is 
never  wanting  to  power,  in  regard  the,  danger  im 
minent  to  his  own  estate  is  such  as  may  make  this 
enterprise  seem  rather  a  work  of  necessity  than 
of  ambition,  as  doth  in  reason  correct  the  danger 
of  the  example.  For  that  the  example  of  that 
which  is  done  in  a  man's  own  defence  cannot  be 
dangerous  ;  because  it  is  another's  power  to  avoid 
it.  But  in  all  this  business  the  king  remits  him 
self  to  your  grave  and  mature  advice,  whereupon 
he  purposeth  to  rely." 

This  was  the  effect  of  the  Lord  Chancellor's 
speech  touching  the  cause  of  Britain  ;  for  the 
king  had  commanded  him  to  carry  it  so  as  to  af 
fect  the  parliament  towards  the  business  :  but 
without  engaging  the  king  in  any  express  decla- 
^tion. 

The  chancellor  went  on  : 

"  For  that  which  may  concern  the  government 
at  home,  the  king  hath  commanded  me  to  say  un 
to  you,  that  he  thinketh  there  was  never  any  king, 
for  the  small  time  that  he  hath  reigned,  had 
greater  and  juster  cause  of  the  two  contrary  pas 
sions  of  joy  and  sorrow  than  his  grace  hath.  Joy 
in  respect  of  the  rare  and  visible  favours  of  Al 
mighty  God,  in  girding  the  imperial  sword  upon 
his  side,  and  assisting  the  same  his  sword  against 
all  his  enemies;  and  likewise  in  blessing  him  with 
so  many  good  and  loving  servants  and  subjects 
which  have  never  failed  to  give  him  faithful  conn-  ' 
sel,  ready  obedience,  and  courageous  defence,  i 
Sorrow,  for  that  it  hath  not  pleased  God  to  suffer  i 


him  to  sheath  his  sword,  as  he  greatly  desired, 
otherwise  than  for  administration  of  justice,  but 
that  he  hath  been  forced  to  draw  it  so  oft,  to  cut 
off  traitorous  and  disloyal  subjects,  whom,  it 
seems,  God  hatli  left,  a  few  amongst  many  good, 
as  the  Canaanites  amongst  the  people  of  Israel, 
to  be  thorns  in  their  sides,  to  tempt  and  try  them  ; 
though  the  end  hath  been  always,  God's  name  be 
blessed  therefore,  that  the  destruction  hath  fallen 
upon  their  own  heads. 

"  Wherefore  his  grace  saith  ;  That  lie  seeth  that 
it  is  not  the  blood  spilt  in  the  field  that  will  save 
the  blood  in  the  city  ;  nor  the  marshal's  sword 
that  will  set  this  kingdom  in  perfect  peace  :  but 
that  the  true  way  is,  to  stop  the  seeds  of  sedition 
and  rebellion  in  their  beginnings  ;  and  for  that 
purpose  to  devise,  confirm,  and  quicken  good  and 
wholesome  laws  against  riots,  and  unlawful  as 
semblies  of  people,  and  all  combinations  and  con 
federacies  of  them,  by  liveries,  tokens,  and  other 
badges  of  factious  dependence  ;  that  the  peace  of 
the  land  may  by  these  ordinances,  as  by  bars  of 
iron,  be  soundly  bound  in  and  strengthened,  and 
all  force,  both  in  court,  country,  and  private 
houses,  be  supprest.  The  care  hereof,  which  so 
much  concerneth  -yourselves,  and  which  the  na 
ture  of  the  times  doth  instantly  call  for,  his  grace 
commends  to  your  wisdoms. 

"  And  because  it  is  the  king's  desire,  that  this 
peace,  wherein  he  hopeth  to  govern  and  maintain 
you,  do  not  bear  only  unto  you  leaves,  for  you  to 
sit  under  the  shade  of  them  in  safety :  but  also 
should  bear  you  fruit  of  riches,  wealth,  and  plen 
ty  ;  therefore  his  grace  prays  you  to  take  into 
consideration  matter  of  trade,  as  also  the  manu 
factures  of  the  kingdom,  and  to  repress  the  bastard 
and  barren  employment  of  moneys  to  usury  and 
unlawful  exchanges  ;  that  they  may  be,  as  their 
natural  use  is,  turned  upon  commerce,  and  lawful 
and  royal  trading.  And  likewise  that  our  people 
be  set  on  work  in  arts  and  handicrafts  ;  that  the 
realm  may  subsist  more  of  itself;  that  idleness 
be  avoided,  and  the  draining  out  of  our  treasure 
for  foreign  manufactures  stopped.  But  you  are 
not  to  rest  here  only,  but  to  provide  further,  that 
whatsoever  merchandise  shall  be  brought  in  from 
beyond  the  seas,  may  be  employed  upon  the  com 
modities  of  this  land  ;  whereby  the  kingdom's 
stock  of  treasure  may  be  sure  to  be  kept  from 
being  diminished  by  any  over-trading  of  the 
foreigner. 

•4  And  lastly,  because  the  king  is  well  assured, 
that  you  would  not  have  him  poor  that  wishes  you 
rich  ;  he  doubteth  not  but  that  you  will  have  care 
as  well  to  maintain  his  revenues  of  customs  and 
all  other  natures,  as  also  to  supply  him  with  your 
loving  aids,  if  the  case  shall  so  require.  The 
rather,  for  that  you  know  the  king  is  a  good  hus 
band,  and  but  a  steward  in  effect  for  the  public  ; 
and  that  what  comes  from  you  is  but  as  moisture 
drawn  from  the  earth,  which  gathers  into  a  cloud, 


332 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


and  falls  back  upon  the  earth  again.  And  you 
know  well  how  the  kingdoms  about  you  grow 
more  and  more  in  greatness,  and  the  times  are 
stirring-,  and  therefore  not  fit  to  find  the  king  with 
an  empty  purse.  More  I  have  not  to  say  to  you; 
and  wish  that  what  hath  been  said  had  been  bet 
ter  expressed :  but  that  your  wisdoms  and  good 
affections  will  supply.  God  bless  your  doings." 

It  was  no  bard  matter  to  dispose  and  affect  the 
parliament  in  this  business,  as  well  in  respect  of 
the  emulation  between  the  nations,  and  the  envy 
at  the  late  growth  of  the  French  monarchy  ;  as  in 
regard  of  the  danger  to  suffer  the  French  to  make 
their  approaches  upon  England,  by  obtaining  so 
goodly  a  maritime  province,  fall  of  sea-towns 
and  havens,  that  might  do  mischief  to  the  Eng 
lish,  either  by  invasion  or  by  interruption  of  traf 
fic.  The  parliament  was  also  moved  with  the 
point  of  oppression;  for  although  the  French 
seemed  to  speak  reason,  yet  arguments  are  ever 
with  multitudes  too  weak  for  suspicions.  Where 
fore  they  did  advise  the  king  roundly  to  embrace 
the  Britons'  quarrel,  and  to  send  them  speedy 
aids  ;  and  with  much  alacrity  and  forwardness 
granted  to  the  king  a  great  rate  of  subsidy  in  con 
templation  of  these  aids.  But  the  king,  both  to 
keep  a  decency  towards  the  French  king,  to  whom 
he  profest  himself  to  be  obliged,  and  indeed  de 
sirous  rather  to  show  war  than  to  make  it,  sent 
new  solemn  ambassadors  to  intimate  unto  him  the 
decree  of  his  estates,  and  to  iterate  his  motion, 
that  the  French  would  desist  from  hostility;  or  if 
war  must  follow,  to  desire  him  to  take  it  in  good 
part,  if,  at  the  motion  of  his  people,  who  were  sen 
sible  of  the  cause  of  the  Britons  as  their  ancient 
friends  and  confederates,  he  did  send  them  suc 
cours  ;  with  protestation  nevertheless,  that,  to 
save  all  treaties  and  laws  of  friendship,  he  had 
limited  his  forces,  to  proceed  in  aid  of  the  Britons, 
but  in  nowise  to  war  upon  the  French,  otherwise 
than  as  they  maintained  the  possession  of  Britain. 
But  before  this  formal  ambassage  arrived,  the 
party  of  the  duke  had  received  a  great  blow,  and 
grew  to  manifest  declination.  For  near  the  town 
of  St.  Alban  in  Britain,  a  battle  had  been  given, 
where  the  Britons  were  overthrown,  and  the  Duke 
of  Orleans  and  the  Prince  of  Orange  taken  pri 
soners,  there  being  slain  on  the  Britains'  part  six 
thousand  men,  and  amongst  them  the  Lord 
Woodville,  and  almost  all  his  soldiers,  valiantly 
fighting.  And  of  the  French  part,  one  thousand 
two  hundred,  with  their  leader  James  Galeot,  a 
great  commander. 

When  the  news  of  this  battle  came  over  into 
England,  it  was  time  for  the  king,  who  now  had 
no  subterfuge  to  continue  further  treaty,  and  saw 
before  his  eyes  that  Britain  went  so  speedily  for 
lost,  contrary  to  his  hopss:  knowing  also  that 
with  his  people,  and  foreigners  both,  he  sustained 
no  small  envy  and  disreputation  for  his  former  de 
lays,  to  despatch  with  all  possible  speed  his  suc- 


|  cours  into  Britain  ;  which  he  did  under  the  con 
duct  of  Robert,  Lord  Brooke,  to  the  number  of 
eight  thousand  choice  men  and  well  armed  ;  who 
having  a  fair  wind,  in  few  hours  landed  in  Bri 
tain,  and  joined  themselves  forthwith  to  those 
Briton  forces  that  remained  after  the  defeat,  and 
marched  straight  on  to  find  the  enemy,  and  en 
camped  fast  by  them.  The  French  wisely  hus 
banding  the  possession  of  a  victory,  and  well  ac 
quainted  with  the  courage  of  the  English,  espe 
cially  when  they  are  fresh,  kept  themselves  with 
in  their  trenches,  being  strongly  lodged,  and  re 
solved  not  to  give  battle.  But  meanwhile,  to 
harass  and  weary  the  English,  they  did  upon  all 
advantages  set  upon  them  with  their  light  horse  ; 
wherein  nevertheless  they  received  commonly 
loss,  especially  by  means  of  the  English  archers. 
But  upon  these  achievements  Francis,  Duke  of 
Britain,  deceased  ;  an  accident  that  the  king 
might  easily  have  foreseen,  and  ought  to  have  reck 
oned  upon  and  provided  for,  but  that  the  point  of 
reputation,  when  news  first  came  of  the  battle  lost, 
that  somewhat  must  be  done,  did  overbear  the 
reason  of  war. 

After  the  duke's  decease,  the  principal  persons 
of  Britain,  partly  bought,  partly  through  faction, 
put  all  things  into  confusion;  so  as  the  English 
not  finding  head  or  body  with  whom  to  join  their 
forces,  and  being  in  jealousy  of  friends,  as  well 
as  in  danger  of  enemies,  and  the  winter  begun, 
returned  home  five  months  after  their  landing.  So 
the  battle  of  St.  Alban,  the  death  of  the  duke,  and 
the  retire  of  the  English  succours,  were  after 
some  time,  the  causes  of  the  loss  of  that  duchy ; 
which  action  some  accounted  as  a  blemish  of  the 
king's  judgment,  but  most  but  as  the  misfortune 
of  his  times. 

But  howsoever  the  temporary  fruit  of  the  par 
liament,  in  their  aid  and  advice  given  for  Britain, 
took  not,  nor  prospered  not;  yet  the  lasting  fruit 
of  parliament,  which  is  good  and  wholesome  laws, 
did  prosper,  and  doth  yet  continue  to  this  day. 
For,  according  to  the  lord  chancellor's  admoni 
tion,  there  were  that  parliament  divers  excellent 
laws  ordained  concerning  the  points  which  the 
king  recommended.  9. 

First,  the  authority  of  the  star-chamber,  which 
before  subsisted  by  the  ancient  common  laws  of 

|  the  realm,  was  confirmed  in  certain  cases  by  act 
of  parliament.  This  court  is  one  of  the  sagest 
and  noblest  institutions  of  this  kingdom.  For  in 
the  distribution  of  courts  of  ordinary  justice,  be 
sides  the  high  court  of  parliament,  in  which  dis 
tribution  the  king's  bench  holdeth  the  pleas  of  the 

j  crown,  the  common-place  pleas  civil,  the  exche 
quer  pleas  concerning  the  king's  revenue,  and 

I  the  chancery  the  pretorian  power  for  mitigating 

'the  rigour  of  law,  in  case  of  extremity,  by  the 
conscience  of  a  good  man ;  there  was  nevertheless 
always  reserved  a  high  and  pre-eminent  power  to 
the  king's  council  in  causes  that  might  in  exa:n- 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


333 


pie  or  consequence  concern  the  state  of  the  com 
monwealth  ;  which,  if  they  were  criminal,  the 
council  used  to  sit  in  the  chamber  called  the  star 
chamber;  if  civil,  in  the  white  chamber  or  white 
hall.  And  as  the  chancery  had  the  pretorian 
power  for  equity,  so  the  star-chamber  had  the  ceh- 
sorian  power  for  offences  under  the  degree  of 
capital.  This  court  of  star  chamber  is  compound 
ed  of  good  elements,  for  it  consisteth  of  four  kinds 
of  persons,  counsellors,  peers,  prelates,  and  chief 
judges.  It  discerneth  also  principally  of  four 
kinds  of  causes,  forces,  frauds,  crimes  various  of 
stellionate,  and  the  indications  or  middle  acts  to 
wards  crimes  capital  or  heinous,  not  actually 
committed  or  perpetrated.  But  that  which  was 
principally  aimed  at  by  this  act  was  .force,  and 
the  two  chief  supports  of  force,  combination  of 
multitudes,  and  maintenance  or  headship  of  great 
persons. 

From  the  general  peace  of  the  country  the  king's 
care  went  on  to  the  peace  of  the  king's  house,  and 
the  security  of  his  great  officers  and  counsellors. 
But  this  law  was  somewhat  of  a  strange  compo 
sition  and  temper.  That  if  any  of  the  king's  ser 
vants  under  the  degree  of  a  lord,  do  conspire  the 
death  of  any  of  the  king's  council  or  lord  of  the 
realm,  it  is  made  capital.  This  law  was  thought 
to  be  procured  by  the  lord  chancellor,  who  being 
a  stern  and  haughty  man,  and  finding  he  had 
some  mortal  enemies  in  court,  provided  for  his 
own  safety;  drowning  the  envy  of  it  in  a  general 
law,  by  communicating  the  privilege  with  all  other 
counsellors  and  peers,  and  yet  not  daring  to  ex 
tend  it  further  than  to  the  king's  servants  in  check- 
roll,  lest  it  should  have  been  too  harsh  to  the  gen 
tlemen  and  other  commons  of  the  kingdom,  who 
might  have  thought  their  ancient  liberty,  and  the 
clemency  of  the  laws  of  England  invaded,  if  the 
will  in  any  case  of  felony  should  be  made  the  deed. 
And  yet  the  reason  which  the  act  yieldeth,  that 
is  to  say,  that  he  that  conspireth  the  death  of  coun 
sellors  may  be  thought  indirectly,  and  by  a  mean, 
to  conspire  the  death  of  the  king  himself,  is  indiff 
erent  to  all  subjects,  as  well  as  to  servants  in 
court.  But  it  seemeth  this  sufficed  to  serve  the 
lord  chancellor's  turn  .at  this  time.  But  yet  he 
lived  to  need  a  general  law,  for  that  he  grew  after 
wards  as  odious  to  the  country  as  he  was  then  to 
the  court. 

From  the  peace  of  the  king's  house,  the  king's 
care  extended  to  the  peace  of  private  houses  and 
families.  For  there  was  an  excellent  moral  law 
moulded  thus ;  the  taking  and  carrying  away  of 
women  forcibly  and  against  their  will,  except  fe 
male  wards  and  bond-women,  was  made  capital. 
The  parliament  wisely  and  justly  conceiving  that 
the  obtaining  of  women  by  force  unto  possession, 
howsoever  afterwards  assent  might  follow  by  al 
lurements,  was  but  a  rape  drawn  forth  in  length, 
because  the  first  force  drew  on  all  the  rest. 

There  was  made  also  another  law  for  peace  in 


general,  and  repressing  of  murders  and  man 
slaughters,  and  was  in  amendment  of  the  common 
laws  of  the  realm,  being  this :  That  whereas  by 
the  common  law  the  king's  suit,  in  case  of  ho 
micide,  did  expect  the  year  and  the  day,  allowed 
to  the  party's  suit  by  way  of  appeal ;  and  that  it 
was  found  by  experience  that  the  party  was  many 
times  compounded  with,  and  many  times  weaned 
with  the  suit,  so  that  in  the  end  such  suit  was  let 
fall,  and  by  that  time  the  matter  was  in  a  manner 
forgotten,  and  thereby  prosecution  at  the  king's 
suit  by  indictment,  which  is  ever  best,  "  flagrante 
crimine,"  neglected  ;  it  was  ordained,  that  the 
suit  by  indictment  might  be  taken  as  well  at  any 
time  within  the  year  and  the  day  as  after ;  r'»t 
prejudicing  nevertheless  the  party's  suit. 

The  king  began  also  then,  as  well  in  wisdom 
as  in  justice,  to  pare  a  little  the  privilege  of  cler 
gy,  ordaining  that  clerks  convict  should  be  burned 
in  the  hand,  both  because  they  might  taste  of  some 
corporal  punishment,  and  that  they  might  carry  a 
brand  of  infamy.  But  for  this  good  act's  sake 
the  king  himself  was  after  branded,  by  Perkin's 
proclamation,  for  an  execrable  breaker  of  the  rites 
of  holy  church. 

Another  law  was  made  for  the  better  peace  of 
the  country  ;  by  which  law  the  king's  officers  and 
farmers  were  to  forfeit  their  places  and  holds  in 
case  of  unlawful  retainer,  or  partaking  in  routs 
and  unlawful  assemblies. 

These  were  the  laws  that  were  made  for  re 
pressing  of  force,  which  those  times  did  chiefly 
require ;  and  were  so  prudently  framed,  as  they 
are  found  fit  for  all  succeeding  times,  and  so  con 
tinue  to  this  day. 

There  were  also  made  good  and  politic  laws 
that  parliament,  against  usury,  which  is  the  bas 
tard  use  of  money ;  and  against  unlawful  chie- 
vances  and  exchanges,  which  is  bastard  usury ; 
and  also  for  the  security  of  the  king's  customs ; 
and  for  the  employment  of  the  procedures  of 
foreign  commodities,  brought  in  by  merchant 
strangers,  upon  the  native  commodities  of  the  realm; 
together  with  some  other  laws  of  less  importance. 

But  howsoever  the  laws  made  in  that  parlia 
ment  did  bear  good  and  wholesome  fruit ;  }ret  the 
subsidy  granted  at  the  same  time  bare  a  fruit  that 
proved  harsh  and  bitter.  All  was  inned  at  last 
into  the  king's  barn,  but  it  was  after  a  storm. 
For  when  the  commissioners  entered  into  the 
taxation  of  the  subsidy  in  Yorkshire,  and  the 
bishopric  of  Duresme  ;  the  people  upon  a  sudden 
grew  into  great  mutiny,  and  said  openly,  That 
they  had  endured  of  late  years  a  thousand  miseries, 
and  neither  could  nor  would  pay  the  subsidy. 
This  no  doubt  proceeded  not  simply  of  any  present 
necessity,  but  much  by  reason  of  the  old  humour 
of  those  countries,  where  the  memory  of  King 
Richard  was  so  strong,  that  it  lay  like  lees  in  the 
bottom  of  men's  hearts ;  and  if  the  vessel  was  but 
stirred  it  would  come  up.  And,  no  doubt,  it  was 


334 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


partly  also  by  the  instigation  of  some  factious  i 
malcontents,  that  bare  principal  stroke  amongst 
them.  Hereupon  the  commissioners  being  some 
what  astonished,  deferred  the  matter  unto  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  who  was  the  principal 
man  of  authority  in  those  parts.  The  earl  forth 
with  wrote  unto  the  court,  signifying  to  the  king 
plainly  enough  in  what  flame  he  found  the  people 
of  those  countries,  and  praying  the  king's  direc 
tion.  The  king  wrote  back  peremptorily,  that  he 
would  not  have  one  penny  abated  of  that  which 
had  been  granted  to  him  by  parliament ;  both  be 
cause  it  might  encourage  other  countries  to  pray 
the  like  release  or  mitigation;  and  chiefly  because 
he  would  never  endure  that  the  base  multitude 
should  frustrate  the  authority  of  the  parliament, 
wherein  their  votes  and  consents  were  concluded. 
Upon  this  despatch  from  court,  the  earl  assembled 
the  principal  justices  and  freeholders  of  the  coun 
try;  and  speaking  to  them  in  that  imperious  lan 
guage,  wherein  the  king  had  written  to  him,  which 
needed  not,  save  that  a  harsh  business  was  un 
fortunately  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  harsh  man, 
did  not  only  irritate  the  people,  but  make  them 
conceive,  by  the  stoutness  and  haughtiness  of  de 
livery  of  the  king's  errand,  that  himself  was  the 
author  or  principal  persuader  of  that  counsel ; 
whereupon  the  meaner  sort  routed  together,  and 
suddenly  assailing  the  earl  in  his  house,  slew 
him,  and  divers  of  his  servants  :  and  rested  not 
there,  but  creating  for  their  leader  Sir  John  Egre- 
mont,  a  factious  person,  and  one  that  had  of  a 
long  time  born  an  ill  talent  towards  the  king: 
and  being  animated  also  by  a  base  fellow,  called 
John  a  Chamber,  a  very  "  boutefeu,"  who  bare 
much  sway  amongst  the  vulgar  and  popular,  en 
tered  into  open  rebellion ;  and  gave  out  in  flat 
terms  that  they  would  go  against  King  Henry, 
and  fight  with  him  for  the  maintenance  of  their 
liberties. 

When  the  king  was  advertised  of  this  new  in 
surrection,  being  almost  a  fever  that  took  him 
every  year,  after  his  manner  little  troubled  there 
with,  he  sent  Thomas,  Earl  of  Surrey,  whom  he 
had  a  little  before  not  only  released  out  of  the 
Tower,  and  pardoned,  but  also  received  to  special 
favour,  with  a  competent  power  against  the  rebels, 
who  fought  with  the  principal  band  of  them,  and 
defeated  them,  and  took  alive  John  a  Chamber 
their  firebrand.  As  for  Sir  John  Egremont,  he 
fled  into  Flanders  to  the  Lady  Margaret  of  Bur 
gundy,  whose  palace  was  the  sanctuary  and  recep 
tacle  of  all  traitors  against  the  king.  John  a 
Chamber  was  executed  at  York  in  great  state; 
for  he  was  hanged  upon  a  gibbet  raised  a  sta^e 
higher  in  the  midst  of  a  square  gallows,  as°a 
traitor  paramount ;  and  a  number  of  his  men  that 
where  his  chief  complices  were  hanged  upon  the 
lower  story  round  about  him  ;  and  the  rest  were 
generally  pardoned.  Neither  did  the  king  him 
self  omit  his  custom,  to  be  first  or  second  in  all 


his  warlike  exploits,  making  good  his  word, 
which  was  usual  with  him  when  he  heard  of 
rebels,  that  he  desired  but  to  see  them.  For  im 
mediately  after  he  had  sent  down  the  Earl  of  Sur 
rey,  he  marched  towards  them  himself  in  person. 
And  although  in  his  journey  he  heard  news  of  the 
victory,  yet  he  went  on  as  far  as  York,  to  pacify 
and  settle  those  countries;  and  that  done,  return 
ed  to  London,  leaving  the  Earl  of  Surrey  for  his 
lieutenant  in  the  northern  parts,  and  Sir  Richard 
Tunstal  for  his  principal  commissioner,  to  levy 
the  subsidy,  whereof  he  did  not  remit  a  denier. 

About  the  same  time  that  the  king  lost  so  good 
a  servant  as  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  he  lost 
likewise  a  faithful  friend  and  ally  of  James  the 
Third,  King  of  Scotland,  by  a  miserable  disaster. 
For  this  unfortunate  prince,  after  a  long  smother 
of  discontent,  and  hatred  of  many  of  his  nobility 
and  people,  breaking  forth  at  times  into  seditions 
and  alterations  of  court,  was  at  last  distressed  by 
them,  having  taken  arms,  and  surprised  the  per 
son  of  Prince  James,  his  son,  partly  by  force, 
partly  by  threats,  that  they  would  otherwise  de 
liver  up  the  kingdom  to  the  King-  of  England,  to 
shadow  their  rebellion,  and  to  be  the  titular  and 
painted  head  of  those  arms.  Whereupon  the 
king,  finding  himself  too  weak,  sought  unto  King 
Henry,  as  also  unto  the  Pope,  and  the  King  of 
France,  to  compose  those  troubles  between  him 
and  his  subjects.  The  kings  accordingly  inter 
posed  their  mediation  in  a  round  and  princely 
manner;  not  only  by  way  of  request  and  persua 
sion,  but  also  by  way  of  protestation  and  menace ; 
declaring,  that  they  thought  it  to  be  the  common 
cause  of  all  kings,  if  subjects  should  be  suffered 
to  give  laws  unto  their  sovereign,  and  that  they 
would  accordingly  resent  it  and  revenge  it.  But 
the  rebels,  that  had  shaken  off  the  greater  yoke 
of  obedience,  had  likewise  cast  away  the  lesser 
tie  of  respect.  And  fury  prevailing  above  fear, 
made  answer :  That  there  was  no  talking  of  peace 
except  the  king  would  resign  his  crown.  Where 
upon,  treaty  of  accord  taking  no  place,  it  came  to 
a  battle  at  Bannocksbourn  by  Strivelin:  in  which 
battle  the  king,  transported  with  wrath  and  just 
indignation,  inconsiderately  fighting  and  precipi 
tating  the  charge,  before  his  whole  numbers  came 
up  to  him,  was,  notwithstanding  the  contrary  ex 
press  and  strait  commandment  of  the  prince,  his 
son,  slain  in  the  pursuit,  being  fled  to  a  mill, 
situate  in  a  field,  where  the  battle  was  fought 

As  for  the  Pope's  embassy,  which  was  sent  by 
Adrian  deCastello,an  Italian  legate,  and  perhaps 
as  those  times  were,  might  have  prevailed  more, 
it  came  too  late  for  the  embassy,  but  not  for  the 
ambassador.  For  passing  through  England,  and 
being  honourably  entertained,  and  received  of 
King  Henry,  who  ever  applied  himself  with  much 
respect  to  the  See  of  Rome,  he  fell  into  great 
grace  with  the  king,  and  great  familiarity  and 
friendship  with  Morton  the  Chancellor ;  i 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


335 


as  the  king  taking  a  liking  to  him,  and  finding 
him  to  his  mind,  preferred  him  to  the  Bishopric 
of  Hereford,  and  afterwards  to  that  of  Bath  and 
Wells,  and  employed  him  in  many  of  his  affairs 
of  state  that  had  relation  to  Rome.  He  was  a 
man  of  great  learning,  wisdom,  and  dexterity  in 
business  of  state ;  and  having  not  long  after  as 
cended  to  the  degree  of  cardinal,  paid  the  king 
large  tribute  of  his  gratitude,  in  diligent  and  judi 
cious  advertisement  of  the  occurrents  of  Italy. 
Nevertheless,  in  the  end  of  his  time,  he  was  par 
taker  of  the  conspiracy  which  Cardinal  Alphonso 
Petmcci  and  some  other  cardinals  had  plotted 
against  the  life  of  Pope  Leo.  And  this  offence, 
in  itself  so  heinous,  was  yet  in  him  aggravated 
by  the  motive  thereof,  which  was  not  malice  or 
discontent,  but  an  aspiring  mind  to  the  papacy. 
And  in  this  height  of  impiety  there  wanted  not  an 
intermixture  of  levity  and  folly;  for  that,  as  was 
generally  believed,  he  was  animated  to  expect 
the  papacy  by  a  fatal  mockery,  the  prediction  of 
a  soothsayer,  which  was,  "That  one  should  suc 
ceed  Pope  Leo  whose  name  should  be  Adrian, 
an  aged  man  of  mean  birth,  and  of  great  learning 
and  wisdom."  By  which  character  and  figure 
he  took  himself  to  be  described,  though  it  were 
fulfilled  of  Adrian  the  Fleming,  son  of  a  Dutch 
brewer,  Cardinal  of  Tortosa,  and  preceptor  unto 
Charles  the  Fifth;  the  same  that,  not  changing 
his  Christian  name,  was  afterwards  called  Adrian 
the  Sixth. 

But  these  things  happened  in  the  year  follow 
ing,  which  wrasthe  fifth  of  this  king.  But  in  the 
end  of  the  fourth  year  the  king  had  called  again 
his  parliament,  not,  as  it  seemeth,  for  any  particu 
lar  occasion  of  state :  but  the  former  parliament 
being  ended  somewhat  suddenly,  in  regard  of  the 
preparation  for  Britain,  the  king  thought  he  had 
riot  remunerated  his  people  sufficiently  with  good 
laws,  which  evermore  was  his  retribution  for 
treasure.  And  finding  by  the  insurrection  in  the 
north  there  was  discontentment  abroad,  in  respect 
of  the  subsidy,  he  thought  it  good  to  give  his  sub 
jects  yet  further  contentment  and  comfort  in  that 
kind.  Certainly  his  times  for  good  common 
wealth's  laws  did  excel.  So  as  he  may  justly  be 
celebrated  for  the  best  lawgiver  to  this  nation, 
after  King  Edward  the  First;  for  his  laws,  whoso 
marks  them  well,  are  deep,  and  not  vulgar;  not 
made  upon  the  spur  of  a  particular  occasion  for 
the  present,  but.  out  of  providence  of  the  future,  to 
make  the  estate  of  his  people  still  more  and  more 
happy ;  after  the  manner  of  the  legislators  in  an 
cient  and  heroical  times. 

First,  therefore,  he  made  a  law  suitable  to  his  I 
own  acts  and  times :  for  as  himself  had  in  his  I 
person  and  marriage  made  a  final  concord  in  the 
great  suit  and  title  for  the  crown,  so  by  this  law  , 
he  settled  the  like  peace  and  quiet  in  the  private  , 
possessions  of  the  subjects:  ordaining,  "That 
fines  thenceforth  should  be  final,  to  conclude  all  \ 


strangers'  rights  ;"  and  that  upon  fines  levied  and 
solemnly  proclaimed,  the  subject  should  have  his 
time  of  wratch  for  five  years  after  his  title  accrued : 
which  if  he  forepassed,  his  right  should  be  bound 
forever  after;  with  some  exception  nevertheless 
of  minors,  married  women,  and  such  incompetent 
persons. 

This  statute  did  in  effect  but  restore  an  ancient 
statute  of  the  realm,  which  was  itself  also  made 
but  in  affirmance  of  the  common  law.  The  alte 
ration  had  been  by  a  statute,  commonly  called  the 
statute  of  "  non-claim,"  made  in  the  time  of  Ed 
ward  the  Third.  And  surely  this  law  was  a  kind 
of  prognostic  of  the  good  peace,  which  since  his 
time  hath,  for  the  most  part,  continued  in  this 
kingdom  until  this  day:  for  statutes  of  "non- 
claim"  are  fit  for  times  of  war,  when  men's 
heads  are  troubled  that  they  cannot  intend  their 
estate ;  but  statutes  that  quiet  possessions  are 
fittest  for  times  of  peace,  to  extinguish  suits  and 
contentions,  which  is  one  of  the  banes  of  peace. 

Another  statute  was  made,  of  singular  policy, 
for  the  population,  apparently,  and,  if  it  be  tho 
roughly  considered,  for  the  soldiery  and  military 
forces  of  the  realm. 

Enclosures  at  that  time  began  to  be  more  fre 
quent,  whereby  arable  land,  which  could  not  be 
manured  without  people  and  families,  was  turned 
into  pasture,  which  was  easily  rid  by  a  few  herds 
men  ;  and  tenances  for  years,  lives,  and  at  will, 
whereupon  much  of  the  yeomanry  lived,  were 
turned  into  demesnes.  This  bred  a  decay  of 
people,  and,  by  consequence,  a  decay  of  towns, 
churches,  tithes,  and  the  like.  The  ki*  T  like 
wise  knew  full  well,  and  in  nowise  forgot,  that 
there  ensued  withal  upon  this  a  decay  and  dimi 
nution  of  subsidies  and  taxes ;  for  the  more 
gentlemen,  ever  the  lower  books  of  subsidies. 
In  remedying  of  this  inconvenience  the  king's 
wisdom  was  admirable,  and  the  parliament's  at 
that  time.  Enclosures  they  would  not  forbid,  for 
that  had  been  to  forbid  the  improvement  of  the 
patrimony  of  the  kingdom:  nor  tillage  they  would 
not  compel,  for  that  was  to  strive  with  nature  and 
utility :  but  they  took  a  course  to  take  away  de 
populating  enclosures  and  depopulating  pasturage, 
and  yet  not  by  that  name,  or  by  any  imperious 
express  prohibition,  but  by  consequence.  The 
ordinance  was,  "That  all  houses  of  husbandry, 
that  were  used  with  twenty  acres  of  ground  and 
upwards,  should  be  maintained  and  kept  up  for 
ever;  together  with  a  competent  proportion  of 
land  to  be  used  and  occupied  with  them ;"  and 
in  nowise  to  be  severed  from  them,  as  by  another 
statute,  made  afterwards  in  his  successor's  time, 
was  more  fully  declared  :  this  upon  fcrj'ritnre  to 
be  taken,  not  by  way  of  popular  action,  but  by 
seizure  of  the  land  itself  by  the  king  and  lords 
of  the  fee,  as  to  half  the  profits,  till  the  'muses 
and  lands  were  restored.  By  this  menus  the 
houses  being  kept  up,  did  of  necessity  enforce  a 


336 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


dweller ;  and  the  proportion  of  land  for  occupa 
tion  being  kept  up,  did  of  necessity  enforce  that 
dweller  not  to  be  a  beggar  or  cottager,  but  a  man 
of  some  substance,  that  might  keep  hinds  and 
servants,  and  set  the  plough  on  going.  This  did 
wonderfully  concern  the  might  and  rnannerhood 
of  the  kingdom,  to  have  farms  as  it  were  of  a 
standard,  sufficient  to  maintain  an  able  body  out 
of  penury,  and  did  in  effect  amortise  a  great  part 
of  the  lands  of  the  kingdom  unto  the  hold  and 
occupation  of  the  yeomanry  or  middle  people,  of 
a  condition  between  gentlemen  and  cottagers  or 
peasants.  Now,  how  much  this  did  advance  the 
military  power  of  the  kingdom  is  apparent  by  the 
true  principles  of  war  and  the  examples  of  other 
kingdoms.  For  it  hath  been  held  by  the  general 
opinion  of  men  of  best  judgment  in  the  wars, 
howsoever  some  few  have  varied,  and  that  it  may 
receive  some  distinction  of  case,  that  the  principal 
strength  of  an  army  consisteth  in  the  infantry  or 
foot.  And  to  make  good  infantry,  it  requireth 
men  bred,  not  in  the  servile  or  indigent  fashion, 
but  in  some  free  and  plentiful  manner.  Therefore 
if  a  state  run  most  to  noblemen  and  gentlemen, 
and  that  the  husbandmen  and  ploughmen  be  but 
as  their  workfolks  and  labourers,  or  else  mere 
cottagers,  which  are  but  housed  beggars,  you 
may  have  a  good  cavalry,  but  never  good  stable 
bands  of  foot;  like  to  coppice  woods,  that  if  you 
leave  in  them  staddles  too  thick,  they  will  run  to 
bushes  and  briars,  and  have  little  clean  under 
wood.  And  this  is  to  be  seen  in  France  and 
Italy,  and  some  other  parts  abroad,  where  in 
effect  all  is  noblesse  or  peasantry,  (I  speak  of 
people  out  of  towns,)  and  no  middle  people,  and 
therefore  no  good  forces  of  foot;  insomuch  as 
they  are  enforced  to  employ  mercenary  bands  of 
Switzers,  and  the  like,  for  their  battalions  of  foot. 
Whereby  also  it  comes  to  pass,  that  those  nations 
have  much  people  and  few  soldiers.  Whereas 
the  king  saw,  that  contrariwise  it  would  follow, 
that  England,  though  much  less  in  territory,  yet 
would  have  infinitely  more  soldiers  of  their  na 
tive  forces  than  those  other  nations  have.  Thus 
did  the  king  secretly  sow  Hydra's  teeth;  where 
upon,  according  to  the  poet's  fiction,  should  rise 
up  armed  men  for  the  service  of  this  kingdom. 

The  king  also,  having  care  to  make  his  realm 
potent,  as  well  by  sea  as  by  land,  for  the  better 
maintenance  of  the  navy,  ordained  ;  "  That  wines 
and  woods  from  the  parts  of  Gascoign  and  Lan- 
guedoc,  should  not  be  brought  but  in  English 
bottoms;"  bowing  the  ancient  policy  of  this 
estate,  from  consideration  of  plenty  to  considera 
tion  of  power.  For  that  almost  all  the  ancient 
statutes  incite  by  all  means  merchant-strangers, 
to  bring  in  all  sorts  of  commodities;  having  for 
end  cheapness,  and  not  looking  to  the  point  of 
state  concerning  the  naval  power. 

The  king  also  made  a  statute  in  that  parliament, 
monitory  and  minatory  towards  justices  of  peace, 


that  they  should  duly  execute  their  office,  inviting 
complaints  against  them,  first  to  their  fellow-jus 
tices,  then  to  the  justices  of  assize,  then  to  the 
king  or  chancellor,  that  a  proclamation  which  he 
had  published  of  that  tenor,  should  be  read  in 
open  sessions  four  times  a  year,  to  keep  them 
awake.  Meaning  also  to  have  his  laws  executed, 
and  thereby  to  reap  either  obedience  or  forfeitures, 
wherein  towards  his  latter  times  he  did  decline 
too  much  to  the  left  hand,  he  did  ordain  remedy 
against  the  practice  that  was  grown  in  use,  to 
stop  and  damp  informations  upon  penal  laws,  by 
procuring  informations  by  collusion,  to  be  put  in 
by  the  confederates  of  the  delinquents,  to  be 
faintly  prosecuted,  and  let  fall  at  pleasure;  and 
pleading  them  in  bar  of  the  informations,  which 
were  prosecuted  with  effect. 

He  made  also  laws  for  the  correction  of  the 
mint,  and  counterfeiting  of  foreign  coin  current. 
And  that  no  payment  in  gold  should  be  made  to 
any  merchant-stranger,  the  better  to  keep  treasure 
within  the  realm,  for  that  gold  was  the  metal 
that  lajr  in  least  room. 

He  made  also  statutes  for  the  maintenance  of 
drapery,  and  the  keeping  of  wools  within  the 
realm ;  and  not  only  so,  but  for  stinting  and 
limiting  the  prices  of  cloth,  one  for  the  finer,  and 
another  for  the  coarser  sort.  Which  I  note,  both 
because  it  was  a  rare  thing  to  set  prices  by  sta 
tute,  especially  upon  our  home  commodities;  and 
because  of  the  wise  model  of  this  act,  not  pre 
scribing  prices,  but  stinting  them  not  to  exceed  a 
rate;  that  the  clothier  might  drape  accordingly 
as  he  might  afford. 

Divers  other  good  statutes  were  made  that 
parliament,  but  these  were  the  principal.  And 
here  I  do  desire  those  into  whose  hands  this  work 
shall  fall,  that  they  do  take  in  good  part  my  long 
insisting  upon  the  laws  that  were  made  in  this 
king's  reign.  Whereof  I  have  these  reasons; 
both  because  it  was  the  pre-eminent  virtue  and 
merit  of  this  king,  to  whose  memory  I  do  honour; 
and  because  it  hath  some  correspondence  to  my 
person;  but  chiefly  because,  in  my  judgment,  it 
is  some  defect  even  in  the  best  writers  of  history, 
that  they  do  not  often  enough  summarily  deliver 
and  set  down  the  most  memorable  laws  that 
passed  in  the  times  whereof  they  writ,  being 
indeed  the  principal  acts  of  peace.  For  though 
they  may  be  had  in  original  books  of  law  them 
selves;  yet  that  informeth  not  the  judgment  of 
kings  and  counsellors,  and  persons  of  estate,  so 
well  as  to  see  them  described,  and  entered  in  the 
table  and  portrait  of  the  times. 

About  the  same  time  the  king  had  a  loan  from 
the  city,  of  four  thousand  pounds;  which  was 
double  to  that  they  lent  before,  and  was  duly  and 
orderly  paid  back  at  the  day,  as  the  former  like 
wise  had  been;  the  king  ever  choosing  rather  to 
borrow  too  soon  than  to  pay  too  late,  and  so 
keeping  up  his  credit. 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


33 


Neither  had  the  king  yet  cast  off  his  cares  and 
hopes  touching1  Britain,  but  thought  to  master  the 
occasion  by  policy,  though  his  arms  had  been 
unfortunate ;  and  to  bereave  the  French  king  of 
the  fruit  of  his  victory.  The  sum  of  his  design 
was,  to  encourage  Maximilian  to  go  on  with  his 
suit,  for  the  marriage  of  Anne,  the  heir  of  Britain, 
and  to  aid  him  to  the  consummation  thereof. 
But  the  affairs  of  Maximilian  were  at  that  time 
in  great  trouble  and  combustion,  by  a  rebellion 
of  his  subjects  in  Flanders;  especially  those  of 
Bruges  and  Gaunt,  whereof  the  town  of  Bruges, 
at  such  time  as  Maximilian  was  there  in  person, 
had  suddenly  armed  in  tumult,  and  slain  some  of 
his  principal  officers,  and  taken  himself  prisoner, 
and  held  him  in  durance  till  they  had  enforced 
him  and  some  of  his  counsellors  to  take  a  solemn 
oath  to  pardon  all  their  offences,  and  never  to 
question  and  revenge  the  same  in  time  to  come. 
Nevertheless  Frederick  the  emperor  would  not 
suffer  this  reproach  and  indignity  offered  to  his 
son  to  pass,  but  made  sharp  wars  upon  Flanders 
to  reclaim  and  chastise  the  rebels.  But  the  Lord 
Ravenstein,  a  principal  person  about  Maximilian, 
and  one  that  had  taken  the  oath  of  abolition  with 
his  master,  pretending  the  religion  thereof,  but 
indeed  upon  private  ambition,  and,  as  it  was 
thought,  instigated  and  corrupted  from  France, 
forsook  the  emperor  and  Maximilian  his  lord, 
and  made  himself  a  head  of  the  popular  party, 
and  seized  upon  the  towns  of  Ipres  and  Sluice, 
with  both  the  castles :  and  forthwith  sent  to  the 
Lord  Cordes,  governor  of  Picardy  under  the 
French  king,  to  desire  aid;  and  to  move  him, 
that  he,  on  the  behalf  of  the  French  king,  would 
be  protector  of  the  United  Towns,  and  by  force 
of  arms  reduce  the  rest.  The  Lord  Cordes  was 
ready  to  embrace  the  occasion,  which  was  partly 
of  his  own  setting,  and  sent  forthwith  greater 
forces  than  it  had  been  possible  for  him  to  raise 
on  the  sudden,  if  he  had  not  looked  for  such  a 
summons  before,  in  aid  of  the  Lord  Ravenstein 
and  the  Flemings,  with  instructions  to  invest  the 
towns  between  France  and  Bruges.  The  French 
forces  besieged  a  little  town  called  Dixmude, 
where  part  of  the  Flemish  forces  joined  with 
them.  While  they  lay  at  this  siege,  the  King  of 
England,  upon  pretence  of  the  safety  of  the 
English  pale  about  Calais,  but  in  truth  being  loath 
that  Maximilian  should  become  contemptible,  and 
thereby  be  shaken  off  by  the  states  of  Britain  about 
this  marriage,  sent  over  the  Lord  Morley  with 
a  thousand  men,  unto  the  Lord  D'Aubigny,  then 
deputy  of  Calais,  with  secret  instructions  to  aid 
Maximilian,  and  to  raise  the  siege  of  Dixmude. 
The  Lord  D'Aubigny,  giving  it  out  that  all  was 
for  the  strengthening  of  the  English  marches, 
drew  out  of  the  garrisons  of  Calais,  Hammes, 
and  Guines,  to  the  number  of  a  thousand  men 
more.  So  that  with  the  fresh  succours  that  came 
under  the  conduct  of  the  Lord  Morley,  they  made 

VOL.  I.—43 


up  to  the  number  of  two  thousand  or  better.  Which 
forces  joining  with  some  companies  of  Almains, 
put  themselves  into  Dixmude,  not  perceived  by 
the  enemies ;  and  passing  through  the  town  with 
some  reinforcement,  from  the  forces  that  were  in 
the  town,  assailed  the  enemies'  camp  negligently 
guarded,  as  being  out  of  fear;  where  there  was  a 
bloody  fight,  in  which  the  English  and  their  par 
takers  obtained  the  victory,  and  slew  to  the  num 
ber  of  eight  thousand  men,  with  the  loss  on  the 
English  part  of  a  hundred  or  thereabouts,  amongst 
whom  was  the  Lord  Morley.  They  took  also 
their  great  ordnance,  with  much  rich  spoils,  which 
they  carried  to  Newport;  whence  the  Lord 
D'Aubigny  returned  to  Calais,  leaving  the  hurt 
men  and  some  other  voluntaries  in  Newport. 
But  the  Lord  Cordes  being  at  Ipres  with  a  great 
power  of  men,  thinking  to  recover  the  loss  and 
disgrace  of  the  fight  at  Dixmude,  came  presently 
on,  and  sat  down  before  Newport,  and  besieged 
it ;  and  after  some  days'  siege,  he  resolved  to  try 
the  fortune  of  an  assault.  Which  he  did  one  day, 
and  succeeded  therein  so  far,  that  he  had  taken 
the  principal  tower  and  fort  in  that  city,  and 
planted  upon  it  the  French  banner.  Whence 
nevertheless  they  were  presently  beaten  forth  by 
the  English,  by  the  help  of  some  fresh  succours 
of  archers,  arriving  by  good  fortune,  at  the  instant, 
in  the  haven  of  Newport.  Whereupon  the  Lord 
Cordes,  discouraged,  and  measuring  the  new 
succours,  which  were  small,  by  the  success, 
which  was  great,  levied  his  siege.  By  this 
means  matters  grew  more  exasperate  between 
the  two  kings  of  England  and  France,  for  that,  in 
the  war  of  Flanders,  the  auxiliary  forces  of  French 
and  English  were  much  blooded  one  against 
another.  Which  blood  rankled  the  more,  by  the 
vain  words  of  the  Lord  Cordes,  that  declared 
himself  an  open  enemy  of  the  English,  beyond 
that  that  appertained  to  the  present  service ; 
making  it  a  common  by-word  of  his,  "  That  he 
could  be  content  to  lie  in  hell  seven  years,  so  he 
might  win  Calais  from  the  English." 

The  king  having  thus  upheld  the  reputation  of 
Maximilian,  advised  him  now  to  press  on  his  mar 
riage  with  Britain  to  a  conclusion.  Which  Maxi 
milian  accordingly  did,  and  so  far  forth  prevailed, 
both  with  the  young  lady  and  with  the  principal 
persons  about  her,  as  the  marriage  was  consum 
mated  by  proxy,  with  a  ceremony  at  that  time  in 
these  parts  new.  For  she  was  not  only  publicly  con 
tracted,  but  stated,  as  a  bride,  and  solemnly  bedded; 
and  after  she  was  laid,  there  came  in  Maximilian's 
ambassador  with  letters  of  procuration,  and  in  the 
presence  of  sundry  noble  personages,  men  and 
women,  put  his  leg  stript  naked  to  the  knee  be 
tween  the  espousal  sheets;  to  the  end,  that  that 
ceremony  might  be  thought  to  amount  to  a  con 
summation  and  actual  knowledge.  This  done 
Maximilian,  whose  property  was  to  leave  things 
then  when  they  were  almost  come  to  perfection 
2F 


338 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


and  to  end  them  by  imagination ;  like  ill  archers, 
that  draw  not  their  arrows  up  to  the  head ;  and 
who  might  as  easily  have  bedded  the  lady  himself, 
as  to  have  made  a  play  and  disguise  of  it,  thinking 
now  all  assured,  neglected  for  a  time  his  further 
proceeding,  and  intended  his  wars.  Meanwhile 
the  French  king  consulting  with  his  divines,  and 
finding  that  this  pretended  consummation  was 
rather  an  invention  of  court,  than  any  ways  valid 
by  the  laws  of  the  church,  went  more  really  to 
work,  and  by  secret  instruments  and  cunning 
agents,  as  well  matrons  about  the  young  lady  as 
counsellors,  first  sought  to  remove  the  point  of 
religion  and  honour  out  of  the  mind  of  the  lady 
herself,  wherein  there  was  double  labour.  For 
Maximilian  was  not  only  contracted  unto  the  lady, 
but  Maximilian's  daughter  was  likewise  contract 
ed  to  King  Charles.  So  as  the  marriage  halted 
upon  both  feet,  and  was  not  clear  on  either  side. 
But  for  the  contract  with  King  Charles,  the  ex 
ception  lay  plain  and  fair;  for  that  Maximilian's 
daughter  was  under  years  of  consent,  and  so  not 
Bound  by  law,  but  a  power  of  disagreement  left 
to  either  part.  But  for  the  contract  made  by 
Maximilian  with  the  lady  herself,  they  were 
harder  driven  ;  having  nothing  to  allege,  but  that 
it  was  done  without  the  consent  of  her  sovereign 
lord  King  Charles,  whose  ward  and  client  she 
was,  and  he  to  her  in  place  of  a  father ;  and  there 
fore  it  was  void  and  of  no  force  for  want  of  such 
consent.  Which  defect,  they  said,  though  it 
would  not  evacuate  a  marriage  after  cohabitation 
and  actual  consummation,  yet  it  was  enough  to 
make  void  a  contract.  For  as  for  the  pretended 
consummation,  they  made  sport  with  it  and  said, 
"  That  was  an  argument  that  Maximilian  was  a 
widower,  and  a  cold  wooer,  that  could  content 
himself  to  be  a  bridegroom  by  deputy,  and  would 
not  make  a  little  journey  to  put  all  out  of  ques 
tion."  So  that  the  young  lady  wrought  upon  by 
these  reasons  finely  instilled  by  such  as  the 
French  king,  who  spared  for  no  rewards  or  pro 
mises,  had  made  on  his  side ;  and  allured  like 
wise  by  the  present  glory  and  greatness  of  King 
Charles,  being  also  a  young  king  and  a  bachelor, 
and  loath  to  make  her  country  the  seat  of  a  long 
and  miserable  war,  secretly  yielded  te  accept  of 
King  Cha.ies.  But  during  this  secret  treaty 
with  the  lady,  the  better  to  save  it  from  blasts  of 
opposition  and  interruption,  King  Charles  resort 
ing  to  his  wonted  arts,  and  thinking  to  carry  the 
marriage  as  he  had  carried  the  wars,  by  entertain 
ing  the  King  of  England  in  vain  belief,  sent  a  so 
lemn  ambassage  by  Francis  Lord  of  Luxemburg, 
Charles  Marignian,  and  Robert  Gagvien,  general 
of  the  order  of  the  "  Bons  Hommes"  of  the  Tri 
nity,  to  treat  a  peace  and  league  with  the  king, 
accoupling  it  with  an  article  in  the  nature  of  a 
request,  that  the  French  king,  might,  with  the 
king's  good  will,  according  unto  his  right  of 
igniory  and  tutelage,  dispose  of  the  marriage  of 


the  young  Duchess  of  Britain  as  he  should  think 
good;  offering  by  a  judicial  proceeding  to  make 
void  the  marriage  of  Maximilian  by  proxy.  Also 
all  this  while,  the  better  to  amuse  the  world,  he 
did  continue  in  his  court  and  custody  the  daugh 
ter  of  Maximilian,  who  formerly  had  been  sent 
unto  him  to  be  bred  and  educated  in  France ;  not 
dismissing  or  renvoying  her,  but  contrariwise 
professing  and  giving  out  strongly  that  he  meant 
to  proceed  with  that  match.  And  that  for  the 
Duchess  of  Britain,  he  desired  only  to  preserve 
his  right  of  seigniory,  and  to  give  her  in  marriage 
to  some  such  ally  as  might  depend  upon  him. 

When  the  three  commissioners  came  to  the 
court  of  England,  they  delivered  their  ambassage 
unto  the  king,  who  remitted  them  to  his  council ; 
where  some  days  after  they  had  audience,  and 
made  their  proposition  by  the  Prior  of  the  Trinity, 
who  though  he  were  third  in  place,  yet  was  held 
the  best  speaker  of  them,  to  this  effect. 

"  My  lords,  the  king  our  master,  the  greatest 
and  mightiest  king  that  reigned  in  France  since 
Charles  the  Great,  whose  name  he  beareth,  hath 
nevertheless  thought  it  no  disparagement  to  his 
greatness  at  this  time  to  propound  a  peace,  yea, 
and  to  pray  a  peace  with  the  King  of  England. 
For  which  purpose  he  hath  sent  us  his  commis 
sioners,  instructed  and  enabled  with  full  and 
ample  powers  to  treat  and  conclude ;  giving  us 
further  in  charge,  to  open  in  some  other  business 
the  secrets  of  his  own  intentions.  These  be  in 
deed  the  precious  love-tokens  between  great  kings, 
to  communicate  one  with  another  the  true  state  of 
their  affairs,  and  to  pass  by  nice  points  of  honour, 
which  ought  not  to  give  law  unto  affection.  This 
I  do  assure  your  lordships ;  it  is  not  possible  for 
you  to  imagine  the  true  and  cordial  love  that  the 
king  our  master  beareth  to  your  sovereign,  except 
you  were  near  him  as  we  are.  He  useth  his  name 
with  so  great  respect ;  he  remembereth  their  first 
acquaintance  at  Paris  with  so  great  contentment ; 
nay,  he  never  speaks  of  him,  but  that  presently 
he  falls  into  discourse  on  the  miseries  of  great 
kings  in  that  they  cannot  converse  with  their 
equals  but  with  servants.  This  affection  to  your 
king's  persons  and  virtues  God  hath  put  into  the 
heart  of  our  master,  no  doubt  for  the  good  of 
Christendom,  and  for  purposes  yet  unknown  fo 
us  all.  For  other  root  it  cannot  have,  since  it 
was  the  same  to  the  Earl  of  Richmond,  that  it  is 
now  to  the  King  of  England.  This  is  therefore  the 
first  motive  that  makes  our  king  to  desire  peace  and 
league  with  your  sovereign  :  good  affection,  and 
somewhat  that  he  finds  in  his  own  heart.  This 
affection  is  also  armed  with  reason  of  estate.  For 
our  king  doth  in  all  candour  and  frankness  of 
dealing  open  himself  unto  you ;  that  having  an 
honourable,  yea,  and  a  holy  purpose,  to  make  a 
voyage  and  war  in  remote  parts,  he  considereth 
that  it  will  be  of  no  small  effect,  in  point  of  re 
putation  to  his  enterprise,  if  it  be  known  abroad 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


that  he  is  in  good  peace  with  all  his  neighbour 
princes,  and  especially  with  the  King  of  Eng 
land,  whom  for  good  causes  he  esteemeth  most. 

"  But  now  my  lords,  give  me  leave  to  use  a  few 
words  to  remove  all  scruples  and  misunderstand 
ings  between  your  sovereign  and  ours,  concerning 
some  late  actions ;  which,  if  they  be  not  cleared, 
may  perhaps  hinder  this  peace.  To  the  end  that 
lor  matters  past  neither  king  may  conceive  un 
kind  ness  of  other,  nor  think  the  other  conceiveth 
unkindness  of  him.  The  late  actions  are  two; 
that  of  Britain  and  that  of  Flanders.  In  both 
which  it  is  true  that  the  subjects'  swords  of 
both  kings  have  encountered  and  stricken,  and 
the  ways  and  inclinations  also  of  the  two  kings, 
in  respect  of  their  confederates  and  allies,  have 
severed. 

"  For  that  of  Britain,  the  king  your  sovereign 
knoweth  best  what  hath  passed.  It  was  a  war 
of  necessity  on  our  master's  part.  And  though  the 
motives  of  it  were  sharp  and  piquant  as  could  be. 
yet  did  he  make  that  war  rather  with  an  olive- 
branch,  than  a  laurel-branch  in  his  hand,  more 
desiring  peace  than  victory.  Besides,  from  time 
to  time  he  sent,  as  it  were,  blank  papers  to  your 
king  to  write  the  conditions  of  peace.  For  though 
both  his  honour  and  safety  went  upon  it,  yet  he 
thought  neither  of  them  too  precious  to  put  into 
the  King  of  England's  hands.  Neither  doth  our 
king  on  the  other  side  make  any  unfriendly  inter 
pretation  of  your  king's  sending  of  succours  to  the 
Duke  of  Britain;  for  the  king  knoweth  well  that 
many  things  must  be  done  of  kings  for  satisfac 
tion  of  their  people ;  and  it  is  not  hard  to  discern 
what  is  a  king's  own.  But  this  matter  of  Britain 
is  now,  by  the  act  of  God,  ended  and  passed  ;  and, 
as  the  king  hopeth,  like  the  way  of  a  ship  in  the 
saa,  without  leaving  any  impression  in  either  of 
the  kings'  minds;  as  he  as  sure  for  his  part  it  hath 
not  done  in  his. 

"  For  the  action  of  Flanders  :  as  the  former  of 
Britain  was  a  war  of  necessity,  so  this  was  a  war 
of  justice;  which  with  a  good  king  is  of  equal 
necessity  with  danger  of  estate,  for  else  he  should 
leave  to  be  a  king.  The  subjects  of  Burgundy 
are  subjects  in  chief  to  the  crown  of  France,  and 
their  duke  the  homager  and  vassal  of  France. 
They  had  wont  to  be  good  subjects,  howsoever 
Maximilian  hath  of  late  distempered  them.  They 
fled  to  the  king  for  justice  and  deliverance  from 
oppression.  Justice  he  could  not  deny  :  purchase 
he  did  not  seek.  This  was  good  for  Maximilian, 
if  he  could  have  seen  it  in  people  mutinied,  to  ar 
rest  fury,  and  prevent  despair.  My  lords,  it  may 
be  this  I  have  said  is  needless,  save  that  the  king 
our  master  is  tender  in  any  thing  that  may  glance 
upon  the  friendship  of  England.  The  amity  be 
tween  the  two  kings,  no  doubt,  stands  entire  and 
inviolate ;  and  that  their  subjects'  swords  have 
clashed,  it  is  nothing  unto  the  public  peace  of  the 
crowns :  it  being  a  thing  very  usual  in  auxiliary 


forces  of  the  best  and  straitest  confederates  to  meet 
and  draw  blood  in  the  field.  Nay  many  times 
there  be  aids  of  the  same  nation  on  both  sides, 
and  yet  it  is  not,  for  all  that,  a  kingdom  divided  in 
itself. 

"  It  resteth,  my  lords,  that  I  impart  unto  you  a 
matter  that  I  know  your  lordships  all  will  much 
rejoice  to  hear;  as  that  which  importeth  the 
Christian  common  weal  more  than  any  action  that 
hath  happened  of  long  time.  The  king  our  mas 
ter  hath  a  purpose  and  determination  to  make  war 
upon  the  kingdom  of  Naples ;  being  now  in  the 
possession  of  a  bastard  slip  of  Arragon,  but  apper 
taining  unto  his  majesty  by  clear  and  undoubted 
right;  which  if  he  should  not  by  just  arms  seek 
to  recover,  he  could  neither  acquit  his  honour  nor 
answer  it  to  his  people.  But  his  noble  and  Chris 
tian  thoughts  rest  not  here :  for  his  resolution  and 
hope  is,  to  make  thereconquest  of  Naples  but  as  a 
bridge  to  transport  his  forces  into  Grecia;  and  not 
to  spare  blood  or  treasure,  if  it  were  to  the  im 
pawning  of  his  crown  and  dispeopling  of  France, 
till  either  he  hath  overthrown  the  empire  of  the 
Ottomans,  or  taken  it  in  his  way  to  Paradise.  The 
king  knoweth  well,  that  this  is  a  design  that  could 
not  arise  in  the  mind  of  any  king  that  did  not 
steadfastly  look  up  unto  God,  whose  quarrel  this 
is,  and  from  whom  cometh  both  the  will  and  the 
deed.  But  yet  it  is  agreeable  to  the  person  that 
he  beareth,  though  unworthy  of  the  thrice  Chris 
tian  king  and  the  eldest  son  of  the  church.  Where- 
unto  he  is  also  invited  by  the  example,  in  more 
ancient  time,  of  King  Henry  the  Fourth  of  Eng 
land,  the  first  renowned  king  of  the  house  of 
Lancaster ;  ancestor,  though  not  progenitor  to  your 
king  ;  who  had  a  purpose  towards  the  end  of  his 
time,  as  you  know  better,  to  make  an  expedition 
into  the  Holy  Land  ;  and  by  the  example  also, 
present  before  his  eyes,  of  that  honourable  and  re 
ligious  war  which  the  King  of  Spain  now  mak- 
eth,  and  hath  almost  brought  to  perfection,  for 
the  recovery  of  the  realm  of  Granada  from  the 
Moors.  And  although  this  enterprise  may  seem 
vast  and  unmeasured,  for  the  king  to  attempt  that 
by  his  own  forces,  wherein  heretofore  a  conjunc 
tion  of  most  of  the  Christian  princes  hath  found 
work  enough ;  yet  his  majesty  wisely  consider- 
eth,  that  sometimes  smaller  forces  being  united 
under  one  command,  are  more  effectual  in  proof, 
though  not  so  promising  in  opinion  and  fame,  than 
much  greater  forces,  variously  compounded  by 
association  and  leagues,  which  commonly  in  a  short 
time  after  their  beginnings  turn  to  dissociations 
and  divisions.  But,  my  lords,  that  which  is  a 
voice  from  heaven,  that  calleth  the  king  to  this 
enterprise,  is  a  rent  at  this  time  in  the  house  of  the 
Ottomans.  I  do  not  say  but  there  hath  been  bro 
ther  against  brother  in  that  house  before,  but 
never  any  that  had  refuge  to  the  arms  of  the  Chris 
tian  as  nowhath  Gemes,  brotherunto  Bajazetthat 
reigneth,  the  far  braver  man  of  the  two,  the  other 


340 


PIISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


being  a  monk  and  a  philosopher,  and  better  read 
in  the  Alcoran  and  Averroes  than  able  to  wield 
the  sceptre  of  so  warlike  an  empire.  This  there 
fore  is  the  king  our  master's  memorable  and  he- 
roical  resolution  for  a  holy  war.  And  because  he 
carrieth  in  this  the  person  of  a  Christian  soldier, 
as  well  as  of  a  great  temporal  monarch,  he  begin- 
neth  with  humility,  and  is  content  for  this  cause 
to  beg  peace  at  the  hands  of  other  Christian  kings. 
There  remaineth  only  rather  a  civil  request  than 
any  essential  part  of  our  negotiation,  which  the 
king  maketh  to  the  king  your  sovereign.  The 
kin"1,  as  all  the  world  knoweth,  is  lord  in  chief  of 
the  duchy  of  Britain.  The  marriage  of  the  heir 
belongeth  to  him  as  guardian.  This  is  a  private 
patrimonial  right,  and  no  business  of  estate  :  yet 
nevertheless,  to  run  a  fair  course  with  your  king, 
whom  he  desires  to  make  another  himself,  and  to 
be  one  and  the  same  thing  with  him,  his  request 
is,  that  with  the  king's  favour  and  consent  he  may 
dispose  of  her  marriage,  as  he  thinketh  good,  and 
make  void  the  intruded  and  pretended  marriage 
of  Maximilian,  according  to  justice.  This  my 
lords  is  all  that  I  have  to  say,  desiring  your  pardon 
for  my  weakness  in  the  delivery." 

Thus  did  the  French  ambassadors  with  great 
show  of  their  king's  affection,  and  many  sugared 
words,  seek  to  addulce  all  matters  between  the 
two  king's,  having  two  things  for  their  ends  ;  the 
one  to  keep  the  king  quiet  till  the  marriage  with 
Britain  was  past;  and  this  was  but  a  summer 
fruit,  which  they  thought  was  almost  ripe,  and 
would  be  soon  gathered.  The  other  was  more 
lasting;  and  that  was  to  put  him  into  such  a 
temper  as  he  might  be  no  disturbance  or  impedi 
ment  to  the  voyage  for  Italy.  The  lords  of  the 
council  were  silent  and  said  only,  "That  they 
knew  the  ambassadors  would  look  for  no  answer, 
till  they  had  reported  to  the  king  :"  and  so  they 
rose  from  council.  The  king  could  not  well  tell 
what  to  think  of  the  marriage  of  Britain.  He 
saw  plainly  the  ambition  of  the  French  king  was 
to  impatronise  himself  of  the  duchy;  but  he 
wondered  he  would  bring  into  his  house  a 
litigious  marriage,  especially  considering  who 
was  his  successor.  But  weighing  one  thing  with 
another  he  gave  Britain  for  lost;  but  resolved 
to  make  his  profit  of  this  business  of  Britain,  as  a 
quarrel  for  war;  and  that  of  Naples  as  a  wrench 
and  mean  for  peace;  being  well  advertised,  how 
strongly  the  king  was  bent  upon  that  action. 
Having  therefore  conferred  divers  times  with  his 
council,  and  keeping  himself  somewhat  close,  he 
gave  a  direction  to  the  chancellor,  for  a  formal 
answer  to  the  ambassadors,  and  that  he  did  in  the 
presence  of  his  council.  And  after  callino-  the 
chancellor  to  him  apart,  bade  him  speak  in  such 
language  as  was  fit  for  a  treaty  that  was  to  end  in 
a  breach ;  and  gave  him  also  a  special  caveat, 
that  he  should  not  use  any  words  to  discourage 
tao  voyage  of  Italy  Soon  after  the  ambassadors 


were  sent  for  to  the  council,  and  the  lord  chancel 
lor  spake  to  them  in  this  sort : 

"  My  lords  ambassadors,  I  shall  make  answer, 
by  the  king's  commandment,  unto  the  eloquent 
declaration  of  you,  my  lord  prior,  in  a  brief  and 
plain  manner.  The  king  forgetteth  not  his  former 
love  and  acquaintance  with  the  king  your  master; 
but  of  this  there  needeth  no  repetition.  For  if 
it  be  between  them  as  it  was,  it  is  well ;  if  there 
be  any  alteration,  it  is  not  words  that  will  make 
it  up. 

"  For  the  business  of  Britain,  the  king  findeth 
it  a  little  strange  that  the  French  king  maketh 
mention  of  it  as  matter  well  deserving  at  his 
hand :  for  that  deserving  was  no  more  but  to 
make  him  his  instrument  to  surprise  one  of  his 
best  confederates.  And  for  the  marriage,  the 
king  would  not  meddle  in  it,  if  your  master 
would  marry  by  the  book,  and  not  by  the  sword. 

"  For  that  of  Flanders,  if  the  subjects  of  Bur 
gundy  had  appealed  to  your  king  as  their  chief 
lord,  at  first  by  way  of  supplication,  it  might  have 
had  a  show  of  justice  :  but  it  was  a  new  form  of 
process,  for  subjects  to  imprison  their  prince  first, 
and  to  slay  his  officers,  and  then  to  be  complain 
ants.  The  king  saith,  That  sure  he  is,  when  the 
French  king  and  himself  sent  to  the  subjects  of 
Scotland,  that  had  taken  arms  against  their  king, 
they  both  spake  in  another  style,  and  did  in 
princely  manner  signify  their  detestation  of  po 
pular  attentatcs  upon  the  person  and  authority  of 
princes.  But,  my  lords  ambassadors,  the  king 
leaveth  these  two  actions  thus  :  that  on  the  one 
side  he  hath  not  received  any  manner  of  satisfac 
tion  from  you  concerning  them ;  and  on  the  other, 
that  he  doth  not  apprehend  them  so  deeply,  as  in 
respect  of  them  to  refuse  to  treat  of  peace,  if  other 
things  may  go  hand  in  hand.  As  for  the  war  of 
Naples,  and  the  design  against  the  Turk :  the 
king  hath  commanded  me  expressly  to  say,  that 
he  doth  wish  with  all  his  heart  to  his  good 
brother  the  French  king,  that  his  fortunes  may 
succeed  according  to  his  hopes  and  honourable 
intentions.  And  whensoever  he  shall  hear  that 
he  is  prepared  for  Grecia,  as  your  master  is  pleased 
now  to  say  that  he  beggeth  a  peace  of  the  king, 
so  the  king  will  then  beg  of  him  a  part  in  that 
war. 

"  But  now,  my  lords  ambassadors,  I  am  to  pro 
pound  unto  you  somewhat  on  the  king's  part :  the 
king  your  master  hath  taught  our  king  what  to  say 
and  demand.  You  say,  my  lord  prior,  that  your 
king  is  resolved  to  recover  his  riorht  to  Naples, 
wrongfully  detained  from  him.  And  that  if  he 
should  not  thus  do  he  could  not  acquit  his 
honour,  nor  answer  it  to  his  people.  Think,  my 
lords,  that  the  king  our  master  saith  the  same 
thing  over  again  to  you  touching  Normandy, 
Guienne,  Anjou,  yea,  and  the  kingdom  of  France 
itself.  I  cannot  express  it  better  than  in  your 
own  words  :  If  therefore  the  French  king  shall 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


341 


consent  that  the  king  our  master's  title  to  France, 
at  least  tribute  for  the  same,  be  handled  in  the 
treaty,  the  king  is  content  to  go  on  with  the  rest, 
otherwise  he  refuseth  to  treat." 

The  ambassadors  being  somewhat  abashed 
with  this  demand,  answered  in  some  heat :  That 
they  doubted  not,  but  the  king  their  sovereign's 
sword  would  be  able  to  maintain  his  sceptre :  and 
they  assured  themselves,  he  neither  could  nor 
would  yield  to  any  diminution  of  the  crown  of 
France  either  in  territory  or  regality:  but,  how 
soever,  they  were  too  great  matters  for  them  to 
speak  of,  having  no  commission.  It  was  replied, 
that  the  king  looked  for  no  other  answer  from 
them,  but  would  forthwith  send  his  own  ambas 
sadors  to  the  French  king.  There  was  a  question 
also  asked  at  the  table;  whether  the  French  king 
would  agree  to  have  the  disposing  of  the  marriage 
of  Britain,  with  an  exception  and  exclusion  that 
he  should  not  marry  her  himself?  To  which  the 
ambassadors  answered :  That  it  was  so  far  out  of 
their  king's  thoughts,  as  they  had  received  no 
instructions  touching  the  same.  Thus  were  the 
ambassadors  dismissed,  all  save  the  prior;  and 
were  followed  immediately  by  Thomas,  Earl  of 
Ormond,  and  Thomas  Goldenston,  Prior  of  Christ 
Church  in  Canterbury,  who  were  presently  sent 
over  into  France.  In  the  mean  space  Lionel, 
Bishop  of  Concordia,  was  sent  as  nuncio  from 
Pope  Alexander  the  Sixth,  to  both  kings,  to  move 
a  peace  between  them.  For  Pope  Alexander, 
rinding  himself  pent  and  locked  up  by  a  league 
and  association  of  the  principal  states  of  Italy, 
that  he  could  not  make  his  way  for  the  advance 
ment  of  his  own  house,  which  he  immoderately 
thirsted  after,  was  desirous  to  trouble  the  waters 
in  Italy,  that  he  might  fish  the  better;  casting  the 
net  not  out  of  St.  Peter's,  but  out  of  Borgia's 
bark.  And  doubting  lest  the  fears  from  England 
might  stay  the  French  king's  voyage  into  Italy, 
despatched  this  bishop  to  compose  all  matters 
between  the  two  king's  if  he  could :  who  first 
repaired  to  the  French  king,  and  finding  him  well 
inclined,  as  he  conceived,  took  on  his  journey 
towards  England,  and  found  the  English  ambas 
sadors  at  Calais,  on  their  way  towards  the  French 
king.  After  some  conference  with  them,  he  was 
in  honourable  manner  transported  over  into  Eng 
land,  where  he  had  audience  of  the  king.  But 
notwithstanding  he  had  a  good  ominous  name  to 
have  made  a  peace,  nothing  followed  :  for  in  the 
mean  time,  the  purpose  of  the  French  king  to 
marry  the  duchess  could  be  no  longer  dissembled. 
Wherefore  the  English  ambassadors  finding  how 
things  went,  took  their  leave,  and  returned.  And 
the  prior  also  was  warned  from  hence  to  depart 
out  of  England.  Who  when  he  turned  his  back, 
more  like  a  pedant  than  an  ambassador,  dispersed 
a  bitter  libel,  in  Latin  verse,  against  the  king; 
unto  which  the  king,  though  he  had  nothing  of  a 
pedant,  yet  was  content  to  cause  an  answer  to  be 


made  in  like  verse;  and  that  as  speaking  in  his 
own  person,  but  in  a  style  of  scorn  and  sport. 
About  this  time  also  was  born  the  king's  second 
son  Henry,  who  afterward  reigned.  And  soon 
after  followed  the  solemnization  of  the  marriage 
between  Charles,  and  Anne,  Duchess  of  Britain, 
with  whom  he  received  the  duchy  of  Britain  as  her 
dowry,  the  daughter  of  Maximilian  being  a  little 
before  sent  home.  Which  when  it  came  to  the  ears 
of  Maximilian,  who  would  never  believe  it  till  it 
was  done,  being  ever  the  principal  in  deceiving 
himself,  though  in  this  the  French  king  did  very 
handsomely  second  it,  and  tumbling  it  over  and 
over  in  his  thoughts,  that  he  should  at  one  blow, 
with  such  a  double  scorn,  be  defeated  both  of  the 
marriage  of  his  daughter,  and  his  own,  upon  both 
which  he  had  fixed  high  imaginations,  he  lost  all 
patience,  and  casting  off  the  respects  fit  to  be 
continued  between  great  kings,  even  when  their 
blood  is  hottest,  and  most  risen,  fell  to  bitter  in 
vectives  against  the  person  and  actions  of  the 
French  king.  And,  by  how  much  he  was  the 
less  able  to  do,  talking  so  much  the  more,  spake 
all  the  injuries  he  could  devise  of  Charles,  say 
ing  :  That  he  was  the  most  perfidious  man  upon 
the  earth,  and  that  he  had  made  a  marriage  com 
pounded  between  an  advowtry  and  a  rape ;  which 
was  done,  he  said,  by  the  just  judgment  of  God; 
to  the  end  that,  the  nullity  thereof  being  so  ap 
parent  to  all  the  world,  the  race  of  so  unworthy 
a  person  might  not  reign  in  France.  And  forth 
with  he  sent  ambassadors  as  well  to  the  King  of 
England,  as  to  the  King  of  Spain,  to  incite  them 
to  war,  and  to  treat  a  league  offensive  against 
France,  promising  to  concur  with  great  forces  of 
his  own.  Hereupon,  the  King  of  England,  going 
nevertheless  his  own  way,  called  a  parliament,  it 
being  the  seventh  year  of  his  reign ;  and  the  first 
day  of  opening  thereof,  sitting  under  his  cloth  of 
estate,  spake  himself  unto  his  lords  and  commons 
in  this  manner. 

"  My  lords,  and  you  the  commons,  when  I  pur 
posed  to  make  a  war  in  Britain  by  my  lieutenant, 
I  made  declaration  thereof  to  you  by  my  chan 
cellor.  But  now  that  I  mean  to  make  war  upon 
France  in  person,  I  will  declare  it  to  you  myself. 
That  war  was  to  defend  another  man's  right,  but 
this  is  to  recover  our  own;  and  that  ended  by 
accident,  but  we  hope  this  shall  end  in  victory. 

"The  French  king  troubles  the  Christian 
world :  that  which  he  hath  is  not  his  own,  and 
yet  he  seeketh  more.  He  hath  invested  himself 
of  Britain  :  he  maintaineth  the  rebels  in  Flanders : 
and  he  threateneth  Italy.  For  ourselves,  he  hath 
proceeded  from  dissimulation  to  neglect;  and 
from  neglect  to  contumely.  He  hath  assailed 
our  confederates ;  he  denieth  our  tribute :  in  a 
word,  he  seeks  war:  so  did  not  his  father,  but 
sought  peace  at  our  hands ;  and  so  perhaps  will 
he,  when  good  counsel  or  time  shall  make  him 
see  as  much  as  his  father  did. 
2  F2 


342 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


«  Meanwhile,  let  us  make  his  ambition  our 
advantage;  and  let  us  not  stand  upon  a  few 
crowns  of  tribute  or  acknowledgment,  but,  by  the 
favour  of  Almighty  God,  try  our  right  for  the 
crown  of  France  itself;  remembering  that  there 
hath  been  a  French  king  prisoner  in  England, 
and  a  King  of  England  crowned  in  France.  Our 
confederates  are  not  diminished.  Burgundy  is  in 
a  mightier  hand  than  ever,  and  never  more  pro 
voked.  Britain  cannot  help  us,  but  it  may  hurt 
them.  New  acquests  are  more  burden  than 
strength.  The  malcontents  of  his  own  kingdom 
have  not  been  base,  popular,  nor  titulary  impos 
tors,  but  of  a  higher  nature.  The  King  of  Spain, 
doubt  ye  not,  will  join  with  us,  not  knowing  where 
the  French  king's  ambition  will  stay.  Our  holy 
father,  the  pope,  likes  no  Tramontanes  in  Italy. 
But  howsoever  it  be,  this  matter  of  confederates 
is  rather  to  be  thought  on  than  reckoned  on.  For 
God  forbid  but  England  should  be  able  to  get 
reason  of  France  without  a  second. 

"  At  the  battles  of  Cressy,  Poictiers,  Agincourt, 
we  were  of  ourselves.  France  hath  much  people, 
and  few  soldiers.  They  have  no  stable  bands  of 
foot.  Some  good  horse  they  have;  but  those  are 
forces  which  are  least  fit  for  a  defensive  war, 
where  the  actions  are  in  the  assailant's  choice. 
It  was  our  discords  only  that  lost  France ;  and, 
by  the  power  of  God,  it  is  the  good  peace  which 
we  now  enjoy  that  will  recover  it.  God  hath 
hitherto  blessed  my  sword.  I  have,  in  this  time 
that  I  have  reigned,  weeded  out  my  bad  subjects, 
and  tried  my  good.  My  people  and  I  know  one 
another,  which  breeds  confidence :  and  if  there 
should  be  any  bad  blood  left  in  the  kingdom,  an 
honourable  foreign  war  will  vent  it  or  purify  it. 
In  this  great  business  let  me  have  your  advice 
arid  aid.  If  any  of  you  were  to  make  his  son 
knight,  you  might  have  aid  of  your  tenants  by 
law.  This  concerns  the  knighthood  and  spurs 
of  the  kingdom,  whereof  I  am  father;  and  bound 
not  only  to  seek  to  maintain  it,  but  to  advance  it : 
but  for  matter  of  treasure,  let  it  not  be  taken  from 
the  poorest  sort,  but  from  those  to  whom  the 
benefit  of  the  war  may  redound.  France  is  no 
wilderness ;  and  I,  that  profess  good  husbandry, 
hope  to  make  the  war,  after  the  beginnings  to  pay 
itself.  Go  together  in  God's  name,  and  lose  no 
time ;  for  I  have  called  this  parliament  wholly  for 
this  cause." 

Thus  spake  the  king;  but  for  all  this,  though 
he  showed  great  forwardness  for  a  war,  not  only 
to  Ins  parliament  and  court,  but  to  his  privy  coun 
cil  likewise,  except  the  two  bishops  and  a  few 
more,  yet  nevertheless  in  his  secret  intentions  he 
had  no  purpose  to  go  through  with  any  war  upon 
France.  But  the  truth  was,  that  he  did  but  traffic 
with  that  war,  to  make  his  return  in  money.  He 
knew  well,  that  France  was  now  entire  and  at 
unity  with  itself,  and  never  so  mighty  many  years 
before.  He  saw  by  the  taste  that  he  had  of  his 


forces  sent  into  Britain,  that  the  French  knew 
well  enough  how  to  make  war  with  the  English, 
by  not  putting  things  to  the  hazard  of  a  battle, 
but  wearing  them  by  long  sieges  of  towns,  and 
strong  fortified  encampings.  James  the  Third  of 
Scotland,  his  true  friend  and  confederate,  gone ; 
and  James  the  Fourth,  that  had  succeeded,  wholly 
at  the  devotion  of  France,  and  ill  affected  towards 
him.  As  for  the  conjunctions  of  Ferdinando  of 
Spain  and  Maximilian,  he  could  make  no  founda 
tion  upon  them.  For  the  one  had  power,  and  not 
will ;  and  the  other  had  will,  and  not  power.  Be 
sides  that,  Ferdinando  had  but  newly  taken  breath 
from  the  war  with  the  Moors ;  and  merchanded  at 
this  time  with  France  for  the  restoring  of  the 
counties  of  Russignon  and  Perpignan,  oppigno- 
rated  to  the  French.  Neither  was  he  out  of  fear 
of  the  discontents  and  ill  blood  within  the  realm; 
which  having  used  always  to  repress  and  appease 
in  person,  he  was  loath  they  should  find  him  at  a 
distance  beyond  sea,  and  engaged  in  war.  Find 
ing  therefore  the  inconveniences  and  difficulties 
in  the  prosecution  of  a  war,  he  cast  with  himself 
how  to  compass  two  things.  The  one,  how  by 
the  declaration  and  inchoation  of  a  war  to  make 
his  profit.  The  other,  how  to  come  off  from  the 
war  with  saving  of  his  honour.  For  profit,  it 
was  to  be  made  two  ways ;  upon  his  subjects  for 
the  war,  and  upon  his  enemies  for  the  peace ;  like 
a  good  merchant,  that  maketh  his  gain  both  upon 
the  commodities  exported,  and  imported  back 
again.  For  the  point  of  honour,  wherein  he 
might  suffer  for  giving  over  the  war ;  he  con 
sidered  well,  that  as  he  could  not  trust  upon  the 
aids  of  Ferdinando  and  Maximilian  for  supports 
of  war;  so  the  impuissance  of  the  one,  and  the 
double  proceeding  of  the  other,  lay  fair  for  him 
for  occasions  to  accept  of  peace.  These  things  he 
did  wisely  foresee,  and  did  as  artificially  conduct, 
whereby  all  things  fell  into  his  lap  as  he  desired. 
For,  as  for  the  parliament,  it  presently  took  fire, 
being  affectionate,  of  old,  to  the  war  of  France ; 
and  desirous  afresh  to  repair  the  dishonour  they 
thought  the  king  sustained  by  the  loss  of  Britain. 
Therefore  they  advised  the  king,  with  great  ala 
crity,  to  undertake  the  war  of  France.  And 
although  the  parliament  consisted  of  the  first  and 
second  nobility,  together  with  principal  citizens 
and  townsmen,  yet  worthily  and  justly  respecting 
more  the  people,  whose  deputies  they  were,  than 
their  own  private  persons,  and  finding  by  the 
lord  chancellor's  speech  the  king's  inclination 
that  way,  they  consented  that  commissioners 
should  go  forth  for  the  gathering  and  levying  of  a 
benevolence  from  the  more  able  sort.  This  tax, 
called  a  benevolence,  was  devised  by  Edward  the 
Fourth,  for  which  he  sustained  much  envy.  It 
was  abolished  by  Richard  the  Third  by  act  of 
parliament,  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  people 
and  it  was  now  revived  by  the  king,  but  with 
consent  of  parliament,  for  so  it  was  not  in  the 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


343 


time  of  King  Edward  the  Fourth.  But  by  this 
way  he  raised  exceeding  great  sums.  Insomuch 
as  the  city  of  London,  in  those  days,  contributed 
nine  thousand  pounds  and  better;  and  that  chiefly 
levied  upon  the  wealthier  sort.  There  is  a  tradi 
tion  of  a  dilemma,  that  Bishop  Morton  the  chan 
cellor  used,  to  raise  up  the  benevolence  to  higher 
rates ;  and  some  called  it  his  fork,  and  some  his 
crutch.  For  he  had  couched  an  article  in  the  in 
structions  to  the  commissioners  who  were  to  levy 
the  benevolence;  "That  if  they  met  with  any 
that  were  sparing,  they  should  tell  them,  that  they 
must  needs  have,  because  they  laid  up :  and  if 
they  were  spenders,  they  must  needs  have,  be 
cause  it  was  seen  in  their  port  and  manner  of 
living."  So  neither  kind  came  amiss. 

This  parliament  was  merely  a  parliament  of 
war;  for  it  was  in  substance  but  a  declaration  of 
war  against  France  and  Scotland,  with  some 
statutes  conducing  thereunto  :  as,  the  severe  pun 
ishing  of  mort-pays,  and  keeping  back  of  soldiers' 
wages  in  captains ;  the  like  severity  for  the  de 
parture  of  soldiers  without  license;  strengthen 
ing  of  the  common  law  in  favour  of  protections 
for  those  that  were  in  the  king's  service ;  and  the 
setting  the  gate  open  and  wide  for  men  to  sell  or 
mortgage  their  lands,  without  fines  for  alienation, 
to  furnish  themselves  with  money  for  the  war ; 
and  lastly,  the  voiding  of  all  Scottish  men  out  of 
England.  There  was  also  a  statute  for  the  dis 
persing  of  the  standard  of  the  exchequer  through 
out  England ;  thereby  to  size  weights  and  mea 
sures  ;  and  two  or  three  more  of  less  importance. 

After  the  parliament  was  broken  up,  which 
lasted  not  long,  the  king  went  on  with  his  prepa 
rations  for  the  war  of  France  ;  yet  neglected  not 
in  the  mean  time  the  affairs  of  Maximilian  for  the 
quieting  of  Flanders,  and  restoring  him  to  his 
authority  amongst  his  subjects.  For  at  that  time 
the  Lord  of  Ravenstein,  being  not  only  a  subject 
rebelled,  but  a  servant  revolted,  and  so  much  the 
more  malicious  and  violent,  by  the  aid  of  Bruges 
and  Gaunt,  had  taken  the  town  and  both  the  cas 
tles  of  Sluice,  as  we  said  before :  and  having,  by 
the  commodity  of  the  haven,  gotten  together  cer 
tain  ships  and  barks,  fell  to  a  kind  of  piratical 
trade ;  robbing,  and  spoiling,  and  taking  prisoners 
the  ships  and  vessels  of  all  nations  that  passed 
along  that  coast  towards  the  mart  of  Antwerp,  or 
into  any  part  of  Brabant,  Zealand,  or  Friezeland ; 
being  ever  well  victualled  from  Picardy,  besides 
the  commodity  of  victuals  from  Sluice,  and  the 
country  adjacent,  and  the  avails  of  his  own  prizes. 
The  French  assisted  him  still  underhand  ;  and  he 
likewise,  as  all  men  do  that  have  been  of  both 
sides,  thought  himself  not  safe,  except  he  depend 
ed  upon  a  third  person. 

There  wTas  a  small  town  some  two  miles  from 
Bruges  towards  the  sea,  called  Dam  ;  which  was 
a  fort  and  approach  to  Bruges,  and  had  a  relation 
also  to  Sluice. 


This  town  the  King  of  the  Romans  had  attempt 
ed  often,  not  for  any  worth  of  the  town  in  itself, 
but  because  it  might  choke  Bruges,  and  cut  it  off 
from  the  sea,  and  ever  failed.  But  therewith  the 
Duke  of  Saxony  came  down  into  Flanders,  taking 
upon  him  the  person  of  an  umpire,  to  compose 
things  between  Maximilian  and  his  subjects  ;  but 
being,  indeed,  fast  and  assured  to  Maximilian. 
Upon  this  pretext  of  neutrality  and  treaty  he  re 
paired  to  Bruges,  desiring  of  the  States  of  Bruges  to 
enter  peaceably  into  their  own  town,  with  a  retinue""" 
of  some  number  of  men  of  arms  fit  for  his  estate  ; 
being  somewhat  the  more,  as  he  said,  the  better 
to  guard  him  in  a  country  that  was  up  in  arms : 
and  bearing  them  in  hand,  that  he  was  to  commu 
nicate  with  them  of  divers  matters  of  great  im 
portance  for  their  good.  Which  having  obtained 
of  them,  he  sent  his  carnages  and  harbingers  be 
fore  him,  to  provide  his  lodging.  So  that  his 
men  of  war  entered  the  city  in  good  array,  but  in 
peaceable  manner,  and  he  followed.  They  that 
went  before  inquired  still  for  inns  and  lodgings, 
as  if  they  would  have  rested  there  all  night ;  and 
so  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  gate  that  leadeth 
directly  towards  Dam ;  and  they  of  Bruges  only 
gazed  upon  them  and  gave  them  passage.  The 
captains  and  inhabitants  of  Dam  also  suspected 
no  harm  from  any  that  passed  through  Bruges ; 
and  discovering  forces  afar  off  supposed  they  had 
been  some  succours  that  were  come  from  their 
friends,  knowing  some  dangers  towards  them. 
And  so  perceiving  nothing  but  well  till  it  was 
too  late,  suffered  them  to  enter  their  town.  By 
which  kind  of  slight,  rather  than  stratagem,  the 
town  of  Dam  was  taken,  and  the  town  of  Bruges 
shrewdly  blocked  up,  whereby  they  took  great 
discouragement. 

The  Duke  of  Saxony,  having  won  the  town  of 
Dam,  sent  immediately  to  the  king  to  let  him 
know,  that  it  was  Sluice  chiefly,  and  the  Lord 
Ravenstein,  that  kept  the  rebellion  of  Flanders  in 
life  :  and  that  if  it  pleased  the  king  to  besiege  it 
by  sea,  he  also  would  besiege  it  by  land,  and  so 
cut  out  the  core  of  those  wars. 

The  king,  willing  to  uphold  the  authority  of 
Maximilian,  the  better  to  hold  France  in  awe,  and 
being  likewise  sued  unto  by  his  merchants,  for 
that  the  seas  were  much  infested  by  the  barks  of 
the  Lord  Ravenstein ;  sent  straightways  Sir  Ed 
ward  Poy  nings,  a  valiant  man,  and  of  good  service, 
with  twelve  ships,  wrell  furnished  with  soldiers 
and  artillery,  to  clear  the  seas,  and  to  besiege 
Sluice  on  that  part.  The  Englishmen  did  not 
only  coop  up  the  Lord  Ravenstein,  that  he  stirred 
not,  and  likewise  hold  in  strait  siege  the  maritime 
part  of  the  town,  but  also  assailed  one  of  the  cas 
tles,  and  renewed  the  assault  so  for  twenty  days' 
space,  issuing  still  out  of  their  ships  at  the  ebb, 
as  they  made  great  slaughter  of  them  of  the  cas 
tle  ;  who  continually  fought  with  them  to  repulse 
them,  though  of  the  English  part  also  were  slain 


344 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


a  brother  of  the  Earl  of  Oxford's,  and  some  fifty 
more. 

But  the  siege  still  continuing  more  and  more 
strait,  and  both  the  castles,  which  were  the  prin 
cipal  strength  of  the  town,  being  distressed,  the 
one  by  the  Duke  of  Saxony,  and  the  other  by  the 
English  ;  and  a  bridge  of  boats,  which  the  Lord 
Ravenstein  had  made  between  both  castles,  where 
by  succours  and  relief  might  pass  from  the 
one  to  the  other,  being  on  a  night  set  on  fire  by 
the  English,  he  despairing  to  hold  the  town,  yield 
ed,  at  the  last,  the  castles  to  the  English,  and  the 
town  to  the  Duke  of  Saxony,  by  composition. 
Which  done,  the  Duke  of  Saxony  and  Sir  Edward 
Poynings  treated  with  them  of  Bruges,  to  submit 
themselves  to  Maximilian  their  lord ;  which  after 
some  time  they  did,  paying,  in  some  good  part, 
the  charge  of  the  war,  whereby  the  Almains  and 
foreign  succours  were  dismissed.  The  example 
of  Bruges  other  of  the  revolted  towns  followed ; 
so  that  Maximilian  grew  to  be  out  of  danger,  but, 
as  his  manner  was  to  handle  matters,  never  out 
of  necessity.  And  Sir  Edward  Poynings,  after 
he  had  continued  at  Sluice  some  good  while  till 
all  things  were  settled,  returned  unto  the  king, 
being  then  before  Boloign. 

Somewhat  about  this  time  came  letters  from 
Ferdinando  and  Isabella,  King  and  Queen  of 
Spain ;  signifying  the  final  conquest  of  Grenada 
from  the  Moors ;  which  action,  in  itself  so  worthy, 
King  Ferdinando,  whose  manner  was  never  to 
lose  any  virtue  for  the  showing,  had  expressed  and 
displayed  in  his  letters  at  large,  with  all  particu 
larities  and  religious  punctos  and  ceremonies, 
that  were  observed  in  the  reception  of  that  city 
and  kingdom :  showing,  amongst  other  things, 
that  the  king  would  not  by  any  means  in  person 
enter  the  city,  until  he  had  first  aloof  seen  the 
cross  set  up  upon  the  greater  tower  of  Granada, 
whereby  it  became  Christian  ground.  That  like 
wise,  before  he  would  enter,  he  did  homage  to 
God  above,  pronouncing  by  a  herald  from  the 
height  of  that  tower,  that  he  did  acknowledge  to 
have  recovered  that  kingdom  by  the  help  of  God 
Almighty,  and  the  glorious  Virgin,  and  the  vir 
tuous  Apostle  Saint  James,  and  the  holy  father 
Innocent  the  Eighth,  together  with  the  aids  and 
services  of  his  prelates,  nobles,  and  commons. 
That  yet  he  stirred  not  from  his  camp  till  he  had 
seen  a  little  army  of  martyrs,  to  the  number  of 
seven  hundred  and  more  Christians  that  had  lived 
in  bonds  and  servitude,  as  slaves  to  the  Moors, 
pass  before  his  eyes,  singing  a  psalm  for  their  re 
demption  ;  and  that  he  had  given  tribute  unto 
God,  by  alms  and  relief  extended  to  them  all  for 
his  admission  into  the  city.  These  things  were 
in  the  letters,  with  many  more  ceremonies  of  a 
kind  of  holy  ostentation. 

The  king,  ever  willing  to  put  himself  into  the 
consort  or  quire  of  all  religious  actions,  and  natu 
rally  affecting  much  the  King  of  Spain,  as  far  as 


one  king  can  affect  another,  partly  for  his  virtues, 
and  partly  fora  counterpoise  to  France;  upon  the 
receipt  of  these  letters  sent  all  his  nobles  and  pre 
lates  that  were  about  the  court,  together  with  the 
mayor  and  aldermen  of  London,  in  great  solemni 
ty  to  the  church  of  Paul ;  there  to  hear  a  declara 
tion  from  the  lord  chancellor,  now  cardinal. 
When  they  were  assembled,  the  cardinal  standing 
upon  the  uppermost  step  or  half-pace,  before  the 
quire,  and  all  the  nobles,  prelates,  and  governors 
of  the  city  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  made  a  speech 
to  them ;  letting  them  know,  that  they  were  as 
sembled  in  that  consecrate  place  to  sing  unto  God 
a  new  song.  For  that,  said  he,  these  many  years 
the  Christians  have  not  gained  new  ground  or 
territory  upon  the  Infidels,  nor  enlarged  and  set 
further  the  bounds  of  the  Christian  world.  But 
this  is  now  done  by  the  prowess  and  devotion  of 
Ferdinando  and  Isabella,  Kings  of  Spain;  who 
have,  to  their  immortal  honour,  recovered  the 
great  and  rich  kingdom  of  Grenada,  and  the  popu 
lous  and  mighty  city  of  the  same  name,  from  the 
Moors,  having  been  in  possession  thereof  by  the 
space  of  seven  hundred  years  and  more :  for  which 
this  assembly  and  all  Christians  are  to  render 
laud  and  thanks  unto  God,  and  to  celebrate  this 
noble  act  of  the  King  of  Spain;  who  in  this  is 
not  only  victorious  but  apostolical,  in  the  gaining 
of  new  provinces  to  the  Christian  faith.  And 
the  rather,  for  that  this  victory  and  conquest  is 
obtained  without  much  effusion  of  blood.  Where 
by  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  there  shall  be  gained  not 
only  new  territory,  but  infinite  souls  to  the  Church 
of  Christ,  whom  the  Almighty,  as  it  seems,  would 
have  live  to  be  converted.  Herewithal  he  did  re 
late  some  of  the  most  memorable  particulars  of 
the  war  and  victory.  And  after  his  speech  ended, 
the  whole  assembly  went  solemnly  in  procession, 
and  "Te  Deum"  was  sung. 

Immediately  after  the  solemnity,  the  king  kept 
tiis  May-day  at  his  palace  of  Sheen,  now  Rich 
mond.  W'here,  to  warm  the  blood  of  his  nobility 
and  gallants  against  the  war,  he  kept  great  tri 
umphs  of  justing  and  tourney  during  all  that 
month.  In  which  space  it  so  fell  out,  that  Sir 
James  Parker,  and  Hugh  Vaughan,  one  of  the 
ting's  gentlemen  ushers,  having  had  a  controver 
sy  touching  certain  arms  that  the  king-at-arms 
lad  given  Vaughan,  were  appointed  to  run  some 
courses  one  against  another.  And  by  accident 
of  a  faulty  helmet  that  Parker  had  on,  he  was 
stricken  into  the  mouth  at  the  first  course,  so  that 
iis  tongue  was  borne  unto  the  hinder  part  of  his 
lead,  in  such  sort  that  he  died  presently  upon  the 
place.  Which,  because  of  the  controversy  pre- 
:edent,  and  the  death  that  followed,  was  account- 
id  amongst  the  vulgar  as  a  combat  or  trial  of 
ight.  The  king  towards  the  end  of  this  summer, 
laving  put  his  forces,  wherewith  he  meant  to  in 
vade  France,  in  readiness,  but  so  as  they  were 
lot  yet  met  or  mustered  together,  sent  Urswiok. 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


345 


now  made  his  almoner,  and  Sir  John  Risley,  to 
Maximilian,  to  let  him  know  that  he  was  in  arms, 
ready  to  pass  the  seas  into  France,  and  did  but 
expect  to  hear  from  him,  when  and  where  he  did 
appoint  to  join  with  him,  according  to  his 
promise  made  unto  him  by  Countebalt,  his  am 
bassador. 

The  English  ambassadors  having  repaired  to 
Maximilian,  did  find  his  power  and  promise  at  a 
very  great  distance;  he  being  utterly  unprovided 
of  men,  money,  and  arms,  for  any  such  enterprise. 
For  Maximilian,  having  neither  wing  to  fly  on, 
for  that  his  patrimony  of  Austria  was  not  in  his 
hands,  his  father  being  then  living,  and  on  the 
other  side,  his  matrimonial  territories  of  Flanders 
were  partly  in  dowry  to  his  mother-in-law,  and 
partly  not  serviceable,  in  respect  of  the  late  rebel 
lions  ;  was  thereby  destitute  of  means  to  enter  in 
to  war.  The  ambassadors  saw  this  well,  but 
wisely  thought  fit  to  advertise  the  king  thereof, 
rather  than  to  return  themselves,  till  the  king's 
further  pleasure  were  known  :  the  rather,  for  that 
Maximilian  himself  spake  as  great  as  ever  he  did  be 
fore,  arid  entertained  them  with  dilatory  answers: 
so  as  the  formal  part  of  their  ambassage  might 
well  warrant  and  require  their  further  stay.  The 
king  hereupon,  who  doubted  as  much  before,  and 
saw  through  his  business  from  the  beginning, 
wrote  back  to  the  ambassadors,  commending  their 
discretion  in  not  returning,  and  willing  them  to 
keep  the  state  wherein  they  found  Maximilian  as 
a  secret,  till  they  heard  further  from  him :  and 
meanwhile  went  on  with  his  voyage  royal  for 
France,  suppressing  for  a  time  this  advertisement 
touching  Maximilian's  poverty  and  disability. 

By  this  time  was  drawn  together  a  great  and 
puissant  army  into  the  city  of  London;  in  which 
were  Thomas,  Marquis  Dorset;  Thomas,  Earl  of 
Arundell;  Thomas,  Earl  of  Derby;  George,  Earl 
of  Shrewsbury ;  Edmund,  Earl  of  Suffolk;  Ed 
ward,  Earl  of  Devonshire;  George,  Earl  of  Kent; 
the  Earl  of  Essex;  Thomas,  Earl  of  Ormond; 
with  a  great  number  of  barons,  knights,  and  prin 
cipal  gentlemen;  and  amongst  them  Richard 
Thomas,  much  noted  for  the  brave  troops  that  he 
brought  out  of  Wales.  The  army  rising,  in  the 
whole,  to  the  number  of  five-and-twenty  thousand 
foot,  and  sixteen  hundred  horse ;  over  which  the 
king,  constant  in  his  accustomed  trust  and  em 
ployment,  made  Jasper,  Duke  of  Bedford,  and 
John,  Earl  of  Oxford,  generals  under  his  own 
parson.  The  ninth  of  September,  in  the  eighth 
year  of  his  reign,  he  departed  from  Greenwich 
towards  the  sea;  all  men  wondering  that  he  took 
that  season,  being  so  near  winter,  to  begin  the 
war ;  and  some  thereupon  gathering,  it  was  a  sign 
that  the  war  would  not  be  long.  Nevertheless 
the  king  gave  out  the  contrary,  thus:  "That  he, 
intending  not  to  make  a  summer  business  of  it, 
but  a  resolute  war,  without  term  prefixed,  until 
ho  hud  recovered  France;  it  skilled  not  much 

VOL.  I.-I4 


when  he  began  it,  especially  having  Calais  at  his 
back,  where  he  might  winter,  if  the  reason  of  the 
war  so  required."  The  sixth  of  October  he  em 
barked  at  Sandwich ;  and  the  same  day  took  land 
at  Calais,  which  was  the  rendezvous,  where  all 
the  forces  were  assigned  to  meet.  But  in  this 
his  journey  towards  the  sea-side,  wherein,  for  the 
cause  that  we  shall  now  speak  of,  he  hovered  so 
much  the  longer,  he  had  received  letters  from  the 
Lord  Cordes,  who  the  hotter  he  was  against  the 
English  in  time  of  war,  had  the  more  credit  in  a 
negotiation  of  peace ;  and  besides,  was  held  a 
man  open  and  of  good  faith.  In  which  letters 
there  was  made  an  overture  of  peace  from  the 
French  king,  with  such  conditions  as  were  some 
what  to  the  king's  taste;  but  this  was  carried  at 
the  first  with  wonderful  secrecy.  The  king  was 
no  sooner  come  to  Calais,  but  the  calm  winds  of 
peace  began  to  blow.  For  first,  the  English  am 
bassadors  returned  out  of  Flanders  from  Maxi 
milian,  and  certified  the  king,  that  he  was  not  to 
hope  for  any  aid  from  Maximilian,  for  that  he 
was  altogether  unprovided.  His  will  was  good, 
but  he  lacked  money.  And  this  was  made 
known  and  spread  through  the  army.  And 
although  the  English  were  therewithal  nothing 
dismayed,  and  that  it  be  the  manner  of  soldiers 
upon  bad  news  to  speak  the  more  bravely ;  yet 
nevertheless  it  was  a  kind  of  preparative  to  a 
peace.  Instantly  in  the  neck  of  this,  as  the  king 
had  laid  it,  came  the  news  that  Ferdinando  and 
Isabella,  Kings  of  Spain,  had  concluded  a  peace 
with  King  Charles;  and  that  Charles  had  restored 
unto  them  the  counties  of  Russignon  and  Perpig- 
nan,  which  formerly  were  mortgaged  by  John, 
King  of  Arragon,  Ferdinando's  father,  unto  France 
for  three  hundred  thousand  crowns :  which  debt 
was  also  upon  this  peace  by  Charles  clearly 
released.  This  came  also  handsomely  to  put  on 
the  peace;  both  because  so  potent  a  confederate 
was  fallen  off,  and  because  it  was  a  fair  example 
of  a  peace  bought :  so  as  the  king  should  not  be 
the  sole  merchant  in  this  peace.  Upon  these  airs 
of  peace,  the  king  was  content  that  the  Bishop 
of  Exeter,  and  the  Lord  D'Aubigny,  governor  of 
Calais,  should  give  a  meeting  unto  the  Lord 
Cordes,  for  the  treaty  of  a  peace.  But  himself, 
nevertheless,  and  his  army,  the  fifteenth  of  October, 
removed  from  Calais,  and  in  four  days  march  sat 
him  down  before  Boloign. 

During  this  siege  of  Boloign,  which  continued 
near  a  month,  there  passed  no  memorable  action, 
nor  accident  of  war;  only  Sir  John  Savage,  a 
valiant  captain,  was  slain,  riding  about  the  walls 
of  the  town,  to  take  a  view.  The  town  was  both 
well  fortified  and  well  manned ;  yet  it  was  dis 
tressed,  and  ready  for  an  assault.  Which,  if  it 
had  been  given,  as  was  thought,  would  have  cost 
much  blood :  but  yet  the  town  would  have  been 
carried  in  the  end.  Meanwhile  a  peace  was 
concluded  by  the  commissioners,  to  continue  for 


346 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


both  the  kings'  lives.  Where  there  was  no  article 
of  importance ;  being  in  effect  rather  a  bargain 
than  a  treaty.  For  all  things  remained  as  they 
were,  save  that  there  should  be  paid  to  the  king 
seven  hundred  forty-five  thousand  ducats  in  pre 
sent,  for  his  charges  in  that  journey ;  and  five  and 
twenty  thousand  crowns  yearly,  for  his  charges 
sustained  in  the  aids  of  the  Britons.  For  which 
annual,  though  he  had  Maximilian  bound  before 
for  those  charges,  yet  he  counted  the  alteration  of 
the  hand  as  much  as  the  principal  debt.  And 
besides,  it  was  left  somewhat  indefinitely  when 
it  should  determine  or  expire ;  which  made  the 
English  esteem  it  as  a  tribute  carried  under  fair 
terms.  And  the  truth  is,  it  was  paid  both  to  the 
king  and  to  his  son,  King  Henry  the  Eighth, 
longer  than  it  could  continue  upon  any  computa 
tion  of  charges.  There  was  also  assigned  by  the 
French  king,  unto  all  the  king's  principal  coun 
sellors,  great  pensions,  besides  rich  gifts  for  the 
present.  Which  whether  the  king  did  permit, 
to  save  his  own  purse  from  rewards,  or  to  com 
municate  the  envy  of  a  business,  that  was  dis 
pleasing  to  his  people,  was  diversely  interpreted. 
For  certainly  the  king  had  no  great  fancy  to  own 
this  peace.  And  therefore  a  little  before  it  was 
concluded,  he  had  underhand  procured  some  of 
his  best  captains  and  men  of  war  to  advise  him 
to  a  peace,  under  their  hands,  in  an  earnest  man 
ner,  in  the  nature  of  a  supplication.  But  the 
truth  is,  this  peace  was  welcome  to  both  kings. 
To  Charles,  for  that  it  assured  unto  him  the  pos 
session  of  Britain,  and  freed  the  enterprise  of 
Naples.  To  Henry,  for  that  it  filled  his  coffers ; 
and  that  he  foresaw  at  that  time  a  storm  of  inward 
troubles  coming  upon  him,  which  presently  after 
brake  forth.  But  it  gave  no  less  discontent  to 
the  nobility  and  principal  persons  of  the  army, 
who  had  many  of  them  sold  or  engaged  their 
estates  upon  the  hopes  of  the  war.  They  stuck 
not  to  say,  "  That  the  king  cared  not  to  plume 
his  nobility  and  people,  to  feather  himself."  And 
some  made  themselves  merry  with  that  the  king 
had  said  in  parliament ;  "  That  after  the  war  was 
once  begun,  he  doubted  not  but  to  make  it  pay 
itself;"  saying,  he  had  kept  promise. 

Having  risen  from  Boloign,  he  went  to  Calais, 
where  he  stayed  some  time.  From  whence  also 
he  wrote  letters,  which  was  a  courtesy  that  he 
sometimes  used,  to  the  Mayor  of  London,  and  the 
aldermen  his  brethren;  half  bragging  what  great 
sums  he  had  obtained  for  the  peace;  knowing 
well  that  full  coffers  of  the  king  is  ever  good 
news  to  London.  And  better  news  it  would  have 
been,  if  their  benevolence  had  been  but  a  loan. 
And  upon  the  seventeenth  of  December  following, 
he  returned  to  Westminster,  where  he  kept  his 
Christmas. 

Soon  after  the  king's  return,  he  sent  the  order 
Tf  the  garter  to  Alphonso,  Duke  of  Calabria, 
eldest  son  to  Ferdinando,  King  of  Naples.  An 


honour  sought  by  that  prince  to  hold  him  up  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Italians ;  who,  expecting  the  arms 
of  Charles,  made  great  account  of  the  amity  of 
England  for  a  bridle  to  France.  It  was  received 
by  Alphonso  with  all  the  ceremony  and  pornp  that 
could  be  devised,  as  things  used  to  be  carried  that 
are  intended  for  opinion.  It  was  sent  by  Urs  wick; 
upon  whom  the  king  bestowed  this  ambassage  to 
help  him  after  many  dry  employments. 

At  this  time  the  king  began  again  to  be  haunted 
with  spirits,  by  the  magic  and  curious  arts  of  the 
Lady  Margaret;  who  raised  up  the  ghost  of 
Richard,  Duke  of  York,  second  son  to  King 
Edward  the  Fourth,  to  walk  and  vex  the  king. 
This  was  a  finer  counterfeit  stone  than  Lambert 
Simnel ;  better  done,  and  worn  upon  greater 
hands ;  being  graced  after  with  the  wearing  of  a 
King  of  France,  and  a  King  of  Scotland,  not  of  a 
Duchess  of  Burgundy  only.  And  for  Simnel, 
there  was  not  much  in  him,  more  than  that  he 
was  a  handsome  boy,  and  did  not  shame  his  robes. 
But  this  youth,  of  whom  we  are  now  to  speak, 
was  such  a  mercurial,  as  the  like  hath  seldom 
been  known;  and  could  make  his  own  part,  if  at 
any  time  he  chanced  to  be  out.  W'herefore  this 
being  one  of  the  strangest  examples  of  a  persona 
tion,  that  ever  was  in  elder  or  later  times;  it 
deserveth  to  be  discovered,  and  related  at  the  full. 
Although  the  king's  manner  of  showing  things 
by  pieces,  and  by  dark  lights,  hath  so  muffled  it, 
that  it  hath  left  it  almost  as  a  mystery  to  this 
day. 

The  Lady  Margaret,  whom  the  king's  friends 
called  Juno,  because  she  was  to  him  as  Juno  was 
to  ./Eneas,  stirring  both  heaven  and  hell  to  do 
him  mischief,  for  a  foundation  of  her  particular 
practices  against  him,  did  continually,  by  all 
means  possible,  nourish,  maintain,  and  divulge 
the  flying  opinion,  that  Richard,  Duke  of  York, 
second  son  to  Edward  the  Fourth,  was  not  mur 
dered  in  the  Tower,  as  was  given  out,  but  saved 
alive.  For  that  those  that  were  employed  in  that 
barbarous  fact,  having  destroyed  the  elder  brother, 
were  stricken  with  remorse  and  compassion  to 
wards  the  younger,  and  set  him  privily  at  liberty 
to  seek  his  fortune.  This  lure  she  cast  abroad, 
thinking  that  this  fame  and  belief,  together  with 
the  fresh  example  of  Lambert  Simnel,  would 
draw  at  one  time  or  other  some  birds  to  strike 
upon  it.  She  used  likewise  a  further  diligence, 
not  committing  all  to  chance :  for  she  had  some 
secret  espials,  like  to  the  Turks'  commissioners 
for  children  of  tribute,  to  look  abroad  for  hand 
some  and  graceful  youths,  to  make  Plantagenets, 
and  Dukes  of  York.  At  the  last  she  did  light  on 
one,  in  whom  all  things  met,  as  one  would  wish, 
to  serve  her  turn  for  a  counterfeit  of  Richard, 
Duke  of  York. 

This  was  Perkin  Warbeck,  whose  adventures 
we  shall  now  describe.  For  first,  the  years 
agreed  well.  Secondly,  he  was  a  youth  of  fine 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


347 


favour  and  shape.  But  more  than  that,  he  had 
such  a  crafty  and  bewitching  fashion,  both  to 
move  pity,  and  to  induce  belief,  as  was  like  a 
kind  of  fascination  and  enchantment  to  those  that 
saw  him,  or  heard  him.  Thirdly,  he  had  been 
from  his  childhood  such  a  wanderer,  or,  as  the 
king1  called  him,  such  a  land-loper,  as  it  was  ex 
treme  hard  to  hunt  out  his  nest  and  parents. 
Neither  again  could  any  man,  by  company  or 
conversing  with  him,  be  able  to  say  or  detect 
well  what  he  was,  he  did  so  flit  from  place  to 
place.  Lastly,  there  was  a  circumstance,  which 
is  mentioned  by  one  that  wrote  in  the  same  time, 
that  is  very  likely  to  have  made  somewhat  to  the 
matter :  which  is,  that  King  Edward  the  Fourth 
was  his  godfather.  Which,  as  it  is  somewhat 
suspicious  for  a  wanton  prince  to  become  gossip 
in  so  mean  a  house,  and  might  make  a  man  think, 
that  he  might  indeed  have  in  him  seme  base  blood 
of  the  house  of  York ;  so  at  the  least,  though 
that  were  not,  it  might  give  the  occasion  to  the 
boy,  in  being  called  King  Edward's  godson,  or 
perhaps  in  sport  King  Edward's  son,  to  entertain 
such  thoughts  into  his  head.  For  tutor  he  had 
none,  for  aught  that  appears,  as  Lambert  Simnel 
had,  until  he  came  to  the  Lady  Margaret,  who 
instructed  him. 

Thus,  therefore,  it  came  to  pass :  there  was  a 
townsman  of  Tournay,  that  had  borne  office  in  that 
town,  whose  name  was  John  Osbeck,  a  convert 
Jew,  married  to  Catherine  de  Faro,  whose  busi 
ness  drew  him  to  live  for  a  time  with  his  wife 
at  London  in  King  Edward  the  Fourth's  days. 
During  which  time  he  had  a  son  by  her,  and 
being  known  in  court,  the  king,  either  out  of  a  re 
ligious  nobleness,  because  he  was  a  convert,  or 
upon  some  private  acquaintance,  did  him  the 
honour  to  be  godfather  to  his  child,  and  named  him 
Peter.  But  afterwards  proving  a  dainty  and  effemi 
nate  youth,  he  was  commonly  called  by  the  di 
minutive  of  his  name,  Peterkin,  or  Perkin.  For 
as  for  the  name  of  Warbeck,  it  was  given  him 
when  they  did  but  guess  at  it  before  examinations 
had  been  taken.  But  yet  he  had  been  so  much 
talked  on  by  that  name,  as  it  stuck  by  him  after 
his  true  name  of  Osbeck  was  known.  While 
he  was  a  young  child,  his  parents  returned  with 
him  to  Tournay.  Then  was  he  placed  in  a  house 
of  a  kinsman  of  his,  called  John  Stenbeck,  at 
Antwerp,  and  so  roved  up  and  down  between 
Antwerp  and  Tournay,  and  other  towns  of  Flan 
ders,  for  a  good  time;  living  much  in  English 
company,  and  having  the  English  tongue  perfect. 
In  which  time,  being  grown  a  comely  youth,  he 
was  brought  by  some  of  the  espials  of  the  Lady 
Margaret  into  her  presence.  Who  viewing  him 
well,  and  seeing  that  he  had  a  face  and  personage 
that  would  bear  a  noble  fortune;  and  finding  him 
otherwise  of  a  fine  spirit  and  winning  behaviour, 
thought  she  had  now  found  a  curious  piece  of 
marble  to  carve  out  an  image  of  the  Duke  of 


York.  She  kept  him  by  her  a  great  while,  but 
with  great  secrecy.  The  while  she  instructed 
him  by  many  cabinet  conferences.  First,  in 
princely  behaviour  and  gesture  ;  teaching  him 
how  he  should  keep  state,  and  yet  with  a  modest 
sense  of  his  misfortunes.  Then  she  informed  him 
of  all  the  circumstances  and  particulars  that  con 
cerned  the  person  of  Richard  Duke  of  York, 
which  he  was  to  act ;  describing  unto  him  the 
personages,  lineaments,  and  features  of  the  king 
and  queen  his  pretended  parents  ;  and  of  his  bro 
ther,  and  sisters,  and  divers  others,  that  were 
nearest  him  in  his  childhood ;  together  with  all 
passages,  some  secret,  some  common,  that  were 
fit  for  a  child's  memory,  until  the  death  of  King 
Edward.  Then  she  added  the  particulars  of  the 
time  from  the  king's  death,  until  he  and  his 
brother  were  committed  to  the  Tower,  as  well  dur 
ing  the  time  he  was  abroad  as  while  he  was  in 
sanctuary.  As  for  the  times  while  he  was  in  the 
Tower,  and  the  manner  of  his  brother's  death,  and 
his  own  escape ;  she  knew  they  were  things  that 
a  very  few  could  control.  And  therefore  she 
taught  him  only  to  tell  a  smooth  and  likely 
tale  of  those  matters ;  warning  him  not  to  vary 
from  it.  It  was  agreed  likewise  between  them, 
what  account  he  should  give  of  his  peregrination 
abroad,  intermixing  many  things  which  were  true, 
and  such  as  they  knew  others  could  testify,  for 
the  credit  of  the  rest ;  but  still  making  them  to 
hang  together  with  the  part  he  was  to  play.  She 
taught  him  likewise  how  to  avoid  sundry  captious 
and  tempting  questions,  which  were  like  to  be 
asked  of  him.  But  in  this  she  found  him  of  him 
self  so  nimble  and  shifting,  as  she  trusted  much 
to  his  own  wit  and  readiness ;  and  therefore  la 
boured  the  less  in  it.  Lastly,  she  raised  his 
thoughts  with  some  present  rewards,  and  further 
promises;  setting  before  him  chiefly  the  glory  and 
fortune  of  a  crown,  if  things  went  well,  and  a  sure 
refuge  to  her  court,  if  the  worst  should  fall.  After 
such  time  as  she  thought  he  was  perfect  in  his 
lesson,  she  began  to  cast  with  herself  from  what 
coast  this  blazing  star  should  first  appear,  and  at 
what  time  it  must  be  upon  the  horizon  of  Ireland ; 
for  there  had  been  the  like  meteor  strong  influence 
before.  The  time  of  the  apparation  to  be  when  the 
king  should  be  engaged  into  a  war  with  France. 
But  well  she  knew,  that  whatsoever  should  come 
from  her  would  be  held  suspected.  And  there 
fore,  if  he  should  go  out  of  Flanders  immediately 
into  Ireland,  she  might  be  thought  to  have  some 
hand  in  it.  And  besides,  the  time  was  not  yet 
ripe ;  for  that  the  two  kings  were  then  upon  terms 
of  peace.  Therefore  she  wheeled  about ,  and  to 
put  all  suspicion  afar  off,  and  loath  to  keep  him 
any  longer  by  her,  for  that  she  knew  secrets  are  not 
long-lived,  she  sent  him  unknown  into  Portugal 
with  the  Lady  Brampton,  an  English  lady,  that 
embarked  for  Portugal  at  that  time;  with  some 
privado  of  her  own  to  have  an  eye  upon  him,  and 


348 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


there  he  was  to  remain,  and  to  expect  her  further  j 
directions.  In  the  mean  time  she  omitted  not  to  ; 
prepare  things  for  his  better  welcome  and  accept-  j 
ing,  not  only  in  the  kingdom  of  Ireland,  but  in 
the  court  of  France.  He  continued  in  Portugal 
about  a  year ;  and  by  that  time  the  King  of  Eng 
land  called  his  parliament,  as  hath  been  said,  and 
had  declared  open  war  against  France.  Now  did 
the  sign  reign,  and  the  constellation  was  come, 
under  which  Perkin  should  appear.  And  there 
fore  he  was  straight  sent  unto  by  the  duchess  to  go 
for  Ireland,  according  to  the  first  desigmnent.  In 
Ireland  he  did  arrive  at  the  town  of  Cork.  When 
he  was  thither  come,  his  own  tale  was,  when  he 
made  confession  afterwards,  that  the  Irishmen, 
finding  him  in  some  good  clothes,  came  flocking 
about  him,  and  hare  him  down  that  he  was  the 
Duke  of  Clarence  that  had  been  there  before. 
And  after,  that  he  was  Richard  the  Third's  base 
son.  And  lastly,  that  he  was  Richard  Duke  of 
York,  second  son  to  Edward  the  Fourth.  But 
that  he  for  his  part  renounced  all  these  things,  and 
offered  to  swear  upon  the  holy  evangelists  that 
he  was  no  such  man ;  till  at  last  they  forced  it 
upon  him,  and  bade  him  fear  nothing,  and  so 
forth.  But  the  truth  is,  that  immediately  upon 
his  coming  into  Ireland,  he  took  upon  him  the 
said  person  of  the  Duke  of  York,  and  drew  unto 
him  complices  and  partakers  by  all  the  means  he 
could  devise.  Insomuch  as  he  wrote  his  letters 
unto  the  Earls  of  Desmond  and  Kildare,  to  come 
in  to  his  aid,  and  be  of  his  party  ;  the  originals 
of  which  letters  are  yet  extant. 

Somewhat  before  this  time,  the  duchess  had  also 
gained  under  her  a  near  servant  of  King  Henry's 
own,  one  Stephen  Frion,  his  secretary  for  the 
French  tongue  :  an  active  man,  but  turbulent  and 
discontented.  This  Frion  had  fled  over  to  Charles 
the  French  king,  and  put  himself  into  his  service, 
at  such  time  as  he  began  to  be  in  open  enmity  with 
the  king.  Now  King  Charles,  when  he  under 
stood  of  the  persons  and  attempts  of  Perkin,  ready 
of  himself  to  embrace  all  advantages  against  the 
King  of  England,  instigated  by  Frion,  and  for 
merly  prepared  by  the  Lady  Margaret,  forthwith 
despatched  one  Lucas  and  this  Frion,  in  the  na 
ture  of  ambassador  to  Perkin,  to  advertise  him  of 
the  king's  good  inclination  to  him,  and  that  he 
was  resolved  to  aid  him  to  recover  his  right  against 
King  Henry,  a  usurper  of  England,  and  an  enemy 
of  France ;  and  wished  him  to  come  over  unto 
him  at  Paris.  Perkin  thought  himself  in  heaven, 
now  that  he  was  invited  by  so  great  a  king  in  so 
honourable  a  manner.  And  imparting  unto  his 
friends  in  Ireland,  for  their  encouragement,  how 
fortune  called  him,  and  what  great  hopes  he  had, 
Bailed  presently  into  France.  When  he  was  come 
to  the  court  of  France,  the  king  received  him  with 
great  homage;  saluted,  and  styled  him  by  the 
name  of  the  Duke  of  York ;  lodged  him  in  great 
state  And  the  better  to  give  him  the  represen 


tation  and  the  countenance  of  a  prince,  assigned 
him  a  guard  for  his  person,  whereof  the  Lord  Con- 
gresall  was  captain.  The  courtiers  likewise,  though 
it  be  ill  mocking  with  the  French,  applied  them 
selves  to  their  king's  bent,  seeing  there  was  rea 
son  of  state  for  it.  At  the  same  time  there  repair 
ed  unto  Perkin  divers  Englishmen  of  quality ; 
Sir  George  Neville,  Sir  John  Taylor,  and  about 
one  hundred  more;  and  amongst  the  rest,  this 
Stephen  Frion,  of  whom  we  spake,  who  fol 
lowed  his  fortune  both  then  and  for  a  long  time 
after,  and  was  indeed  his  principal  counsellor  and 
instrument  in  all  his  proceedings.  But  all  this 
on  the  French  king's  part  was  but  a  trick,  the 
better  to  bow  King  Henry  to  peace.  And  there 
fore  upon  the  first  grain  of  incense  that  was  sacri 
ficed  upon  the  altar  of  peace  at  Boloign,  Perkin 
was  smoked  away.  Yet  would  not  the  French 
king  deliver  him  up  to  King  Henry,  as  he  was 
laboured  to  do,  for  his  honour's  sake,  but  warned 
him  away  and  dismissed  him.  And  Perkin,  on 
his  part,  was  as  ready  to  be  gone,  doubting  he 
might  be  caught  up  underhand.  He  therefore 
took  his  way  into  Flanders,  unto  the  Duchess  of 
Burgundy;  pretending  that  having  been  variously 
tossed  by  fortune,  he  directed  his  course  thither 
as  to  a  safe  harbour :  noways  taking  knowledge 
that  he  had  ever  been  there  before,  but  as  if  that 
had  been  his  first  address.  The  duchess,  on  the 
other  part,  made  it  as  new  and  strange  to  see  him  ; 
pretending,  at  the  first,  that  she  was  taught  and 
made  wise  by  the  example  of  Lambert  Simnel, 
how  she  did  admit  of  any  counterfeit  stuff;  though 
even  in  that,  she  said  she  was  not  fully  satisfied. 
She  pretended  at  the  first,  and  that  was  ever  in 
the  presence  of  others,  to  pose  him  and  sift  him, 
thereby  to  try  whether  he  were  indeed  the  very 
Duke  of  York  or  no.  But  seeming  to  receive 
full  satisfaction  by  his  answer,  she  then  feigned 
herself  to  be  transported  with  a  kind  of  astonish 
ment,  mixt  of  joy  and  wonder,  at  his  miraculous 
deliverance;  receiving  him  as  if  he  were  risen 
from  death  to  life  :  and  inferring,  that  God,  who 
had  in  such  wonderful  manner  preserved  him  from 
death,  did  likewise  reserve  him  for  some  great 
and  prosperous  fortune.  As  for  his  dismission  out 
of  France,  they  interpreted  it  not  as  if  he  were 
detected  or  neglected  for  a  counterfeit  deceiver ; 
but  contrariwise,  that  it  did  show  manifestly  unto 
the  world,  that  he  was  some  great  matter  :  for 
that  it  was  his  abandoning  that,  in  effect,  made  the 
peace ;  being  no  more  but  the  sacrificing  of  a  poor 
distressed  prince  unto  the  utility  and  ambition  of 
two  mighty  monarchs.  Neither  was  Perkin,  for 
his  part,  wanting  to  himself,  either  in  gracious  and 
princely  behaviour,  or  in  ready  and  apposite  an 
swers,  or  in  contenting  and  caressing  those  that  did 
apply  themselves  unto  him,  or  in  pretty  scorn  and 
disdain  to  those  that  seemed  to  doubt  of  him  ;  but 
in  all  things  did  notably  acquit  himself :  insomuch 
as  it  we  "-pnerally  believed,  as  well  amongst  great 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


349 


persons  as  amongst  the  vulgar,  that  he  was  in 
deed  Duke  Richard.  Nay,  himself,  with  long 
and  continual  counterfeiting,  and  with  oft  telling 
a  lie,  was  turned  by  habit  almost  into  the  thing 
he  seemed  to  be ;  and  from  a  liar  to  a  believer. 
The  duchess  therefore,  as  in  a  case  out  of  doubt, 
did  him  all  princely  honour,  calling  him  always 
by  the  name  of  her  nephew,  and  giving  him  the 
delicate  title  of  the  white  rose  of  England  ;  and 
.appointed  him  a  guard  of  thirty  persons,  halber 
diers,  clad  in  a  party-coloured  livery  of  murrey 
and  blue,  to  attend  his  person.  Her  court,  likewise, 
and  generally  the  Dutch  and  strangers,  in  their 
usage  towards  him,  expressed  no  less  respect. 

The  news  hereof  came  blazing  and  thundering 
over  into  England,  that  the  Duke  of  York  was 
sure  alive.  As  for  the  name  of  Perkin  Warbeck, 
it  was  not  at  that  time  come  to  light,  but  all  the 
news  ran  upon  the  Duke  of  York ;  that  he  had 
been  entertained  in  Ireland,  bought  and  sold  in 
France,  and  was  now  plainly  avowed,  and  in  great 
honour  in  Flanders.  These  fames  took  hold  of 
divers ;  in  some  upon  discontent,  in  some  upon 
ambition,  in  some  upon  levity  and  desire  of 
change,  and  in  some  few  upon  conscience  and  be 
lief,  but  in  most  upon  simplicity  ;  and  in  divers 
out  of  dependence  upon  some  of  the  better  sort, 
who  did  in  secret  favour  and  nourish  these  bruits. 
And  it  was  not  long  ere  these  rumours  of  novelty 
had  begotten  others  of  scandal  and  murmur  against 
the  king  and  his  government,  taxing  him  for  a 
great  taxer  of  his  people,  and  discountenancer  of 
his  nobility.  The  loss  of  Britain  and  the  peace 
with  France  were  not  forgotten.  But  chiefly 
they  fell  upon  the  wrong  that  he  did  his  queen,  in 
that  he  did  not  reign  in  her  right.  Wherefore,  they 
said,  that  God  had  now  brought  to  light  a  mascu 
line  branch  of  the  house  of  York,  that  would  not 
be  at  his  courtesy,  howsoever  he  did  depress  his 
poor  lady.  And  yet,  as  it  fareth  in  things  which 
are  current  with  the  multitude,  and  which  they 
affect,  these  fames  grew  so  general  as  the  authors 
were  lost  in  the  generality  of  speakers.  They 
being  like  running  weeds  that  have  no  certain 
root;  or  like  footings  up  and  down  impossible  to 
be  traced ;  but  after  a  while  these  ill  humours 
drew  to  a  head,  and  settled  secretly  in  some  emi 
nent  persons  ;  which  were,  Sir  William  Stanley, 
lord  chamberlain  of  the  king's  household,  the 
Lord  Fitzwater,  Sir  Simon  Mountfort,  and  Sir 
Thomas  Thwaites.  These  entered  into  a  secret 
conspiracy  to  favour  Duke  Richard's  title.  Never 
theless  none  engaged  their  fortunes  in  this  busi 
ness  openly  but  two  :  Sir  Robert  Clifford,  and 
Master  William  Barley,  who  sailed  over  into 
Flanders,  sent  indeed  from  the  party  of  the  con 
spirators  here,  to  understand  the  truth  of  those 
things  that  passed  there,  and  not  without  some 
help  of  monies  from  hence ;  provisionally  to  be 
delivered,  if  they  found  and  were  satisfied  that 
there  was  truth  in  these  pretences.  The  person 


|  of  Sir  Robert  Clifford,  being  a  gentleman  of  fame 
I  and  family,  was  extremely  welcome  to  the  Lady 
Margaret.  Who  after  she  had  conference  with 
him,  brought  him  to  the  sight  of  Perkin,  with 
whom  he  had  often  speech  and  discourse.  So 
that  in  the  end,  won  either  by  the  duchess  to  af 
fect,  or  by  Perkin  to  believe,  he  wrote  back  into 
England,  that  he  knew  the  person  of  Richard 
Duke  of  York,  as  well  as  he  knew  his  own,  and 
that  this  young  man  was  undoubtedly  he.  By 
this  means  all  things  grew  prepared  to  revolt  and 
sedition  here,  and  the  conspiracy  came  to  have  a 
correspondence  between  Flanders  and  England. 

The  king  on  his  part  was  not  asleep;  but  to 
arm  or  levy  forces  yet,  he  thought  would  but 
show  fear,  and  do  this  idol  too  much  worship. 
Nevertheless  the  ports  he  did  shut  up,  or  at  least 
kept  a  watch  on  them,  that  none  should  pass  to 
or  fro  that  was  suspected :  but  for  the  rest,  he 
choose  to  work  by  countermine.  His  purposes 
were  two ;  the  one  to  lay  open  the  abuse,  the 
other  to  break  the  knot  of  the  conspirators.  To 
detect  the  abuse,  there  were  but  two  ways ;  the 
first,  to  make  it  manifest  to  the  world  that  the 
Duke  of  York  was  indeed  murdered ;  the  other, 
to  prove  that  were  he  dead  or  alive,  yet  Perkin 
was  a  counterfeit.  For  the  first,  thus  it  stood. 
There  were  but  four  persons  that  could  speak 
upon  knowledge  to  the  murder  of  the  Duke  of 
York  ;  Sir  James  Tirrel,  the  employed  man  from 
King  Richard,  John  Dighton  and  Miles  Forrest 
his  servants,  the  two  butchers  or  tormentors,  and 
the  priest  of  the  Tower  that-  buried  them.  Of 
which  four,  Miles  Forrest  and  the  priest  were 
dead,  and  there  remained  alive  only  Sir  James 
Tirrel  and  John  Dighton.  These  two  the  king 
caused  to  be  committed  to  the  Tower,  and  examin 
ed  touching  the  manner  of  the  death  of  the  two 
innocent  princes.  They  agreed  both  in  a  tale,  as 
the  king  gave  out  to  this  effect:  That  King 
Richard  having  directed  his  warrant  for  the  put 
ting  of  them  to  death  to  Brackenbury,  the  lieute 
nant  of  the  Tower,  was  by  him  refused.  Where 
upon  the  king  directed  his  warrant  to  Sir  James 
Tirrel,  to  receive  the  keys  of  the  Tower  from  the 
lieutenant,  for  the  space  of  a  night,  for  the  king's 
special  service.  That  Sir  James  Tirrel  according 
ly  repaired  to  the  Tower  by  night,  attended  by  his 
two  servants  afore-named,  whom  he  had  chosen 
for  that  purpose.  That  himself  stood  at  the  stair 
foot,  and  sent  these  two  villains  to  execute  the 
murder.  That  they  smothered  them  in  their  bed  ; 
and,  that  done,  called  up  their  master  to  see  their 
naked  dead  bodies,  which  they  had  laid  forth. 
That  they  were  buried  under  the  stairs,  and  some 
stones  cast  upon  them.  That  when  the  leport 
was  made  to  King  Richard,  that  his  will  was 
done,  he  gave  Sir  James  Tirrel  great  thanks,  out 
took  exception  to  the  place  of  their  burial,  being 
too  base  for  them  that  were  king's  children. 
Whereupon,  another  night,  by  the  king's  warrant 
2G 


350 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


renewed,  their  bodies  were  removed  by  the  pries 
of  the  Tower,  and  buried  by  him  in  some  place 
which,  by  means  of  the  priest's  death  soon  after 
could  not  be  known.     Thus  much  was  then  de 
livered  abroad,  to  be  the  effect  of  those  examina 
tions  ;  but  the  king,  nevertheless,  made  no  use  of 
them  in  any  of  his  declarations ;  whereby,  as  i 
seems,  those  examinations  left  the  business  some 
what  perplexed.     And  as  for  Sir  James  Tirrel,  he 
was  soon  after  beheaded  in  the  Tower-yard  for 
other  matters  of  treason.      But  John   Dighton, 
who,  it  seemeth,  spake  best  for  the  king,  was 
forthwith  set  at  liberty,  and  was  the  principal 
means  of  divulging  this  tradition.     Therefore  this 
kind  of  proof  being  left  so  naked,  the  king  used 
the  more  diligence  in  the  latter,  for  the  tracing  of 
Perkin.      To  this  purpose   he   sent  abroad  into 
several  parts,  and  especially  into  Flanders,  divers 
secret  and  nimble  scouts  arid  spies,  some  feigning 
themselves  to  fly  over  unto  Perkin,  and  to  adhere 
unto  him ;   and  some  under  other  pretences,  to 
learn,  search,  and  discover  all  the  circumstances 
and  particulars  of  Perkin's  parents,  birth,  person, 
travels   up  and   down ;  and   in  brief,  to  have   a 
journal,  as  it  were,  of  his  life  and  doings.     He 
furnished  these  his  employed  men  liberally  with 
money,  to  draw  on  and  reward  intelligences ;  giv 
ing  them  also  in  charge,  to  advertise  continually 
what  they  found,  and  nevertheless  still  to  go  on. 
And  ever  as  one   advertisement  and   discovery 
called  up  another,  he  employed  other  new  men, 
where  the  business  did  require  it.     Others  he  em 
ployed  in  a  more  special  nature  and  trust,  to  be 
his  pioneers  in  the  main  countermine.    These  were 
directed  to  insinuate  themselves  into  the  familiari 
ty  and  confidence  of  the  principal  persons  of  the 
party  in  Flanders,  and  so  to  learn  what  associates 
they  had,  and  correspondents,  either  here  in  Eng 
land  or  abroad  ;  and  how  far  every  one  engaged, 
and  what  new  ones  they  meant  afterwards  to  try 
or  board.     And  as  this  for  the  persons,  so  for  the 
actions  themselves,  to  discover  to  the  bottom,  as 
they  could,  the  utmost  of  Perkin's  and   the  con 
spirators,  their  intentions,  hopes,  and  practices. 
These  latter  best-be-trust  spies  had  some  of  them 
further  instructions,  to  practise  and  draw  off  the 
best  friends  and  servants  of  Perkin,  by  rnakino- 
remonstrance  to  them,  how  weakly  his  enterprise 
and  hopes  were  built,  and  with  how  prudent  and 
potent  a  king  they  had  to  deal ;  and  to  reconcile 
them  to  the  king,  with  promise  of  pardon  and 
good  conditions  of  reward.     And,  above  the  rest, 
to  assail,  sap,  and  work  into  the  constancy  of  Sir 
Robert  Clifford  ;  and  to  win  him,  if  they  could, 
being  the  man  that  knew  most  of  their  "secrets, 
and  who  being  won  away,  would  most  appal  and 
discourage  the  rest,  and  in  a  manner  break  the 
knot. 

There  is  a  strange  tradition  ;  that  the  king  be 
ing  lost  in  a  wood  of  suspicions,  and  not  knowing 
whom  to  trust,  had  both  intelligence  with  the  con 


fessors  and  chaplains  of  divers  great  men ;  and 
for  the  better  credit  of  his  espials  abroad  with  the 
contrary  side,  did  use  to  have  them  cursed  at 
Paul's  by  name,  amongst  the  bead-roll  of  the 
king's  enemies,  according  to  the  custom  of  those 
times.  These  espials  plied  their  charge  so  round 
ly,  as  the  king  had  an  anatomy  of  Perkin  alive ; 
and  was  likewise  well  informed  of  the  particular 
correspondent  conspirators  in  England,  and  many 
other  mysteries  were  revealed  ;  aand  Sir  Robert 
Clifford  in  especial  won  to  be  assured  to  the  king, 
and  industrious  and  officious  for  his  service.  The 
king  therefore,  receiving  a  rich  return  of  his  dili 
gence,  and  great  satisfaction  touching  a  number 
of  particulars,  first  divulged  and  spread  abroad 
the  imposture  and  juggling  of  Perkin's  person 
and  travels,  with  the  circumstances  thereof, 
throughout  the  realm  ;  not  by  proclamation,  be 
cause  things  were  yet  in  examination,  and  so 
might  receive  the  more  or  the  less,  but  by  court- 
fames,  which  commonly  print  better  than  printed 
proclamations.  Then  thought  he  it  also  time  to 
send  an  ambassage  unto  Archduke  Philip  into 
Flanders,  for  the  abandoning  and  dismissing  of 
Perkin.  Herein  he  employed  Sir  Edward  Poyn- 
ings,  and  Sir  William  Warham,  doctor  of  the 
canon  law.  The  archduke  was  then  young,  and 
governed  by  his  council,  before  wrhom  the  ambas 
sadors  had  audience  ;  and  Dr.  Warham  spake  in 
this  manner: 

"  My  lords,  the  king  our  master  is  very  sorry, 
that  England  and  your  country  here  of  Flanders,  ' 
having  been  counted  as  man  and  wife  for  so  long 
time ;  now  this  country  of  all  others  should  be 
the  stage,  where  a  base  counterfeit  should  play 
the  part  of  a  King  of  England  ;  not  only  to  his 
grace's  disquiet  and  dishonour,  but  to  the  scorn 
and  reproach  of  all  sovereign  princes.  To  coun 
terfeit  the  dead  image  of  a  king  in  his  coin  is  an 
high  offence  by  all  laws,  but  to  counterfeit  the 
living  image  of  a  king  in  his  person,  exceedeth  all 
falsifications,  except  it  should  be  that  of  a  Ma 
homet,  or  an  Antichrist,  that  counterfeit  divine 
honour.  The  king  hath  too  great  an  opinion  of 
this  sage  council,  to  think  that  any  of  you  is 
caught  with  this  fable,  though  wray  may  be  given 
ay  you  to  the  passion  of  some,  the  thing  in  itself 
s  so  improbable.  To  set  testimonies  aside  of  the 
death  of  Duke  Richard,  which  the  king  hath  upon 
record,  plain  and  infallible,  because  they  may  be 
thought  to  be  in  the  king's  own  power,  let  the 
thing  testify  for  itself.  Sense  and  reason  no 
power  can  command.  Is  it  possible,  trow  you, 
,hat  King  Richard  should  damn  his  soul,  and  foul 
ris  name  with  so  abominable  a  murder,  and  yet 
lot  mend  his  case  ]  Or  do  you  think  that  men  of 
blood,  that  were  his  instruments,  did  turn  to  pity 
n  the  midst  of  their  execution  !  Whereas  in  cruel 
and  savage  beasts,  and  men  also,  that  the  fhs» 
draught  of  blood  doth  yet  make  them  more  fierce 
and  enraged.  Do  you  not  know  that  the  bloody 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


351 


executioners  of  tyrants  do  go  to  such  errands  with 
a  halter  about  their  neck ;  so  that  if  they  perform 
not  they  are  sure  to  die  for  if?  And  do  you  think 
that  these  men  would  hazard  their  own  lives  for 
sparing  another's  ]  Admit  they  should  have  saved 
him,  what  should  they  have  done  with  him  ? 
Turn  him  into  London  streets,  that  the  watchmen, 
or  any  passenger  that  should  light  upon  him, 
might  carry  him  before  a  justice,  and  so  all  come 
to  light  ]  Or  should  they  have  kept  him  by  them 
secretly  ?  That  surely  would  have  required  a 
great  deal  of  care,  charge,  and  continual  fears. 
But,  my  lords,  I  labour  too  much  in  a  clear  busi 
ness.  The  king  is  so  wise,  and  hath  so  good 
friends  abroad,  as  now  he  knoweth  Duke  Perkin 
from  his  cradle.  And  because  he  is  a  great  prince, 
if  you  have  any  good  poet  here,  he  can  help  him 
with  notes  to  write  his  life  ;  and  to  parallel  him 
with  Lambert  Simnel,  now  the  king's  falconer. 
And  therefore,  to  speak  plainly  to  your  lordships, 
it  is  the  strangest  thing  in  the  world,  that  the 
Lady  Margaret,  excuse  us  if  we  name  her,  whose 
malice  to  the  king  is  both  causeless  and  endless, 
should  now  when  she  is  old,  at  the  time  when 
other  women  give  over  child-bearing,  bring  forth 
two  such  monsters;  being  not  the  births  of  nine 
or  ten  months,  but  of  many  years.  And  \vhereas 
other  natural  mothers  bring  forth  children  weak, 
and  not  able  to  help  themselves ;  she  bringeth 
forth  tall  striplings,  able  soon  after  their  coming 
into  the  world  to  bid  battle  to  mighty  kings.  My 
lords,  we  stay  unwillingly  upon  this  part.  We 
would  to  God  that  lady  would  once  taste  the  joys 
which  God  Almighty  doth  serve  up  unto  her,  in 
beholding  her  niece  to  reign  in  such  honour,  and 
with  so  much  royal  issue,  which  she  might  be 
pleased  to  account  as  her  own.  The  king's  re 
quest  unto  the  archduke,  and  your  lordships, 
might  be  that  according  to  the  example  of  King 
Charles',  who  hath  already  discarded  him,  you 
would  banish  this  unworthy  fellow  out  of  your 
dominions.  But  because  the  king  may  justly  ex 
pect  more  from  an  ancient  confederate,  than  from 
a  new  reconciled  enemy,  he  maketh  his  request 
unto  you  to  deliver  him  up  into  his  hands  :  pirates 
and  impostors  of  this  sort,  being  fit  to  be  account 
ed  the  common  enemies  of  mankind,  and  noways 
to  be  protected  by  the  law  of  nations." 

After  some  time  of  deliberation,  the  ambassa 
dors  received  this  short  answer : 

"  That  the  archduke,  for  the  love  of  King 
Henry,  would  in  no  sort  aid  or  assist  the  pre 
tended  duke,  but  in  all  things  conserve  the  amity 
he  had  with  the  king :  but  for  the  duchess-dow 
ager,  she  was  absolute  in  the  lands  of  her  dowry, 
and  that  he  could -not  let  her  to  dispose  of  her 
own." 

The  king,  upon  the  return  of  the  ambassadors, 
was  nothing  satisfied  with  this  answer.  For 
well  he  knew,  that  a  patrimonial  dowry  carried 
no  part  of  sovereignty  or  command  of  forces. 


Besides,  the  ambassadors  told  him  plainly,  that 
they  saw  the  duchess  had  a  great  party  in  the 
archduke's  council ;  and  that  howsoever  it  was 
carried  in  a  course  of  connivance,  yet  the  arch 
duke  underhand  gave  aid  and  furtherance  to  Per 
kin.  Wherefore,  partly  out  of  courage,  and  part 
ly  out  of  policy,  the  king  forthwith  banished  all 
Flemings,  as  well  their  persons  as  their  wares, 
out  of  his  kingdom  ;  commanding  his  subjects 
likewise,  and  by  name  his  merchants  adventurers, 
which  had  a  resiance  in  Antwerp,  to  return ; 
translating  the  mart,  which  commonly  followed 
the  English  cloth,  unto  Calais  ;  and  embarred 
also  all  further  trade  for  the  future.  This  the 
king  did,  being  sensible  in  point  of  honour,  not 
to  suffer  a  pretender  to  the  crown  of  England  to 
affront  him  so  near  at  hand,  and  he  to  keep  terms 
of  friendship  with  the  country  where  he  did  set 
up.  But  he  had  also  a  further  reach  :  for  that  he 
knew  well,  that  the  subjects  of  Flanders  drew  so 
great  commodity  from  the  trade  of  England,  as  by 
this  embargo  they  would  soon  wax  weary  of  Per 
kin  ;  and  that  the  tumults  of  Flanders  had  been 
so  late  and  fresh,  as  it  was  no  time  for  the  prince 
to  displease  the  people.  Nevertheless,  for  form's 
sake,  by  way  of  requital,  the  archduke  did  like 
wise  banish  the  English  out  of  Flanders,  which 
in  effect  was  done  to  his  hand. 

The  king  being  \vell  advertised,  that  Perkin 
did  more  trust  upon  friends  and  partakers  within 
the  realm  than  upon  foreign  arms,  thought  it  be 
hoved  him  to  apply  the  remedy  where  the  disease 
lay ;  and  to  proceed  with  severity  against  some 
of  the  principal  conspirators  here  within  the 
realm  ;  thereby  to  purge  the  ill  humours  in  Eng 
land,  and  to  cool  the  hopes  in  Flanders.  Where 
fore  he  caused  to  be  apprehended,  almost  at  an 
instant,  John  Ratcliffe,  Lord  Fitzwater,  Sir  Simon 
Mountfort,  Sir  Thomas  Thwaites,  William  D'Au- 
bigny,  Robert  Ratcliffe,  Thomas  Cressenor,  and 
Thomas  Astwood.  All  these  were  arraigned, 
convicted,  and  condemned  for  high  treason,  in  ad 
hering  and  promising  aid  to  Perkin.  Of  these 
the  Lord  Fitzwater  conveyed  to  Calais,  and  there 
kept  in  hold,  and  in  hope  of  life,  until  soon  after, 
either  impatient  or  betrayed,  he  dealt  with  his 
keeper  to  have  escaped,  and  thereupon  was  be 
headed.  But  Sir  Simon  Mountfort,  Robert  Rat 
cliffe,  and  William  D'Aubigny  were  beheaded 
immediately  after  their  condemnation.  The  rest 
were  pardoned,  together  with  many  others,  clerks 
and  laics,  amongst  which  were  two  Dominican 
friars,  and  William  Worseley,  Dean  of  Paul's, 
which  latter  sort  passed  examination,  but  came 
not  to  public  trial. 

The  lord  chamberlain  at  that  time  was  not 
touched  ;  whether  it  were  that  the  king  would 
not  stir  too  many  humours  at  once,  but,  after  the 
manner  of  good  physicians,  purge  the  head  last ; 
or  that  Clifford,  from  whom  most  of  these  dis 
coveries  came,  reserved  that  piece  for  his  own 


352 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


coining  over ;  signifying  only  to  the  king  in  the  | 
mean   time,  that  he   doubted  there   were   some 
greater  ones  in  the  business,  whereof  he  would 
give  the  king  further  account  when  he  came  to  his 
presence. 

Upon  Allhallows-day-even,  being  now  the 
tenth  year  of  the  king's  reign,  the  king's  second 
son  Henry  was  created  Duke  of  York ;  and  as 
well  the  duke,  as  divers  others,  noblemen,  knights 
bachelors,  and  gentlemen  of  quality,  were  made 
knights  of  the  Bath  according  to  the  ceremony. 
Upon  the  morrow  after  twelfth-day,  the  king  re 
moved  from  Westminster,  where  he  had  kept  his 
Christmas,  to  the  Tower  of  London.  This  he 
did  as  soon  as  he  had  advertisement  that  Sir 
Robert  Clifford,  in  whose  bosom  or  budget 
most  of  Perkin's  secret  were  laid  up,  was  come 
into  England.  And  the  place  of  the  Tower  was 
chosen  to  that  end,  that  if  Clifford  should  accuse 
any  of  the  great  ones,  they  might,  without  suspi 
cion  or  noise,  or  sending  abroad  of  warrants,  be 
presently  attached;  the  court  and  prison  being 
within  the  cincture  of  one  wall.  After  a  day  or 
two,  the  king  drew  unto  him  a  selected  council, 
and  admitted  Clifford  to  his  presence;  who  first 
fell  down  at  his  feet,  and  in  all  humble  manner 
craved  the  king's  pardon ;  which  the  king  then 
granted,  though  he  were  indeed  secretly  assured 
of  his  life,  before.  Then  commanded  to  tell  his 
knowledge,  he  did  amongst  many  others,  of  him 
self  not  interrogated,  appeach  Sir  William  Stan- 
Joy,  the  lord  chamberlain  of  the  king's  household. 

The  king  seemed  to  be  much  amazed  at  the 
naming  of  this  lord,  as  if  he  had  heard  the  news 
of  some  strange  and  fearful  prodigy.  To  hear  a 
man  that  had  done  him  service  of  so  high  a  na 
ture,  as  to  save  his  life,  and  set  the  crown  upon 
his  head  ;  a  man,  that  enjoyed,  by  his  favour  and 
advancement,  so  great  a  fortune  both  in  honour 
and  riches  ;  a  man,  that  was  tied  unto  him  in  so 
near  a  band  of  alliance,  his  brother  having  married 
the  king's  mother ;  and  lastly,  a  man,  to  whom 
lie  had  committed  the  trust  of  his  person,  in  mak 
ing  him  his  chamberlain  ;  that  this  man,  noways 
disgraced,  noways  discontent,  noways  put  in 
fear,  should  be  false  unto  him.  Clifford  was  re 
quired  to  say  over  again  and  again  the  particulars 
of  his  accusation  ;  being  warned,  that  in  a  matter 
so  unlikely,  and  that  concerned  so  great  a  servant 
of  the  king's,  he  should  not  in  any  wise  go  too 
far.  But  the  king  finding  that  he  did  sadly  and 
constantly,  without  hesitation  or  varying,  and 
with  those  civil  protestations  that  were  fit,  stand 
to  that  he  had  said,  offering  to  justify  it  upon  his 
soul  and  life;  he  caused  him  to  be  removed. 
And  after  he  had  not  a  little  bemoaned  himself 
unto  his  council  there  present,  gave  order  that  Sir 
William  Stanley  should  be  restrained  in  his  own 
cnamber  where  he  lay  before,  in  the  square  tower : 
and  the  next  day  he  was  examined  by  the  lords. 
Upon  his  examination  he  denied  little  of  that 


wherewith  he  was  charged,  nor  endeavoured  much 
to  excuse  or  extenuate  his  fault :  so  that,  not  very 
wisely,  thinking  to  make  his  offence  less  by  con 
fession,  he  made  it  enough  for  condemnation.  It 
was  conceived,  that  he  trusted  much  to  his  former 
merits,  and  the  interest  that  his  brother  had  in 
the  king.  But  those  helps  were  over-weighed  by 
divers  things  that  made  against  him,  and  were 
predominant  in  the  king's  nature  and  mind. 
First,  an  over-merit :  for  convenient  merit,  unto 
which  reward  may  easily  reach,  doth  best  with 
kings.  Next  the  sense  of  his  power ;  for  the 
king  thought,  that  he  that  could  set  him  up,  was 
the  more  dangerous  to  pull  him  down.  Thirdly, 
the  glimmering  of  a  confiscation ;  for  he  was  the 
richest  subject  for  value  in  the  kingdom ;  there  be 
ing  found  in  his  castle  of  Holt  forty  thousand 
marks  in  ready  money  and  plate,  besides  jewels, 
household-stuff,  stocks  upon  his  grounds,  and 
other  personal  estate,  exceeding  great.  And  for 
his  revenue  in  land  and  fee,  it  was  three  thousand 
pounds  a  year  of  old  rent,  a  great  matter  in  those 
times.  Lastly,  the  nature  of  the  time ;  for  if  the 
king  had  been  out  of  fear  of  his  own  estate,  it  was 
not  unlike  he  would  have  spared  his  life.  But 
the  cloud  of  so  great  a  rebellion  hanging  over  his 
head,  made  him  work  sure.  Wherefore  after 
some  six  weeks'  distance  of  time,  which  the  king 
did  honourably  interpose,  both  to  give  space  to 
his  brother's  intercession,  and  to  show  to  the 
world  that  he  had  a  conflict  with  himself  what  he 
should  do ;  he  was  arraigned  of  high  treason,  and 
condemned,  and  presently  after  beheaded. 

Yet  is  it  to  this  day  left  but  in  dark  memory, 
both  what  the  case  of  this  noble  person  was,  for 
which  he  suffered ;  and  what  likewise  was  the 
ground  and  cause  of  his  defection,  and  the  aliena 
tion  of  his  heart  from  the  king.  His  case  was 
said  to  be  this :  That  in  discourse  between  Sir 
Robert  Clifford  and  him  he  had  said,  "That if  he 
were  sure  that  that  young  man  were  King  Ed 
ward's  son,  he  would  never  bear  arms  against 
him."  This  case  seems  somewhat  a  hard  case, 
both  in  respect  of  the  conditional,  and  in  respect 
of  the  other  words.  But  for  the  conditional,  it 
seemeth  the  judges  of  that  time,  who  were  learned 
men,  and  the  three  chief  of  them  of  the  privy  coun 
cil,  thought  it  was  a  dangerous  thing  to  admit  ifs 
and  ands,  to  qualify  words  of  treason;  whereby 
every  man  might  express  his  malice,  and  blanch 
his  danger.  And  it  was  like  to  the  case,  in  the 
following  times,  of  Elizabeth  Barton,  the  holy 
maid  of  Kent;  who  had  said,  "That  if  King 
Henry  the  Eighth  did  not  take  Catherine  his  wife 
again,  he  should  be  deprived  of  his  crown,  and 
die  the  death  of  a  dog."  And  infinite  cases  may 
be  put  of  like  nature ;  which,  it  seemeth,  the 
grave  judges  taking  into  consideration,  would  not 
admit  of  treasons  upon  condition.  And  as  for  the 
positive  words,  "  That  he  would  not  bear  arms 
against  King  Edward's  son ;"  though  the  words 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


353 


seem  calm,  yet  it  was  a  plain  and  direct  over 
ruling  of  the  king's  title,  either  by  the  line  of 
Lancaster,  or  by  act  of  parliament;  which,  no 
doubt,  pierced  the  king1  more  than  if  Stanley  had 
charged  his  lance  upon  him  in  the  field.  For  if 
Stanley  would  hold  that  opinion,  that  a  son  of 
King  Edward  had  still  the  better  right,  he  being 
so  principal  a  person  of  authority  and  favour 
about  the  king,  it  was  to  teach  all  England  to 
say  as  much.  And  therefore,  as  those  times 
were,  that  speech  touched  the  quick.  But  some 
writers  do  put  this  out  of  doubt;  for  they  say, 
that  Stanley  did  expressly  promise  to  aid  Perkin, 
and  sent  him  some  help  of  treasure. 

Now  for  the  motive  of  his  falling  off  from  the 
king ;  it  is  true,  that  at  Bosworth-field  the  king 
was  beset,  and  in  a  manner  enclosed  round  about 
by  t«he  troops  of  King  Richard,  and  in  manifest 
danger  of  his  life ;  when  this  Stanley  was  sent 
by  his  brother,  with  three  thousand  men  to  his 
rescue,  which  he  performed  so,  that  King  Richard 
was  slain  upon  the  place.  So  as  the  condition 
of  mortal  men  is  not  capable  of  a  greater  benefit 
than  the  king  received  by  the  hands  of  Stanley ; 
being,  like  the  benefit  of  Christ,  at  once  to  save 
and  crown.  For  which  service  the  king  gave 
him  great  gifts,  made  him  his  counsellor  and 
chamberlain  :  and,  somewrhat  contrary  to  his  na 
ture,  had  winked  at  the  great  spoils  of  Bosworth- 
field,  which  came  almost  wholly  to  this  man's 
hands,  to  his  infinite  enriching.  Yet,  neverthe 
less,  blown  up  with  the  conceit  of  his  merit,  he 
did  not  think  he  had  received  good  measure  from 
the  king,  at  least  not  pressing  down  and  running 
over,  as  he  expected.  And  his  ambition  was  so 
exorbitant  and  unbounded,  as  he  became  suitor  to 
the  king  for  the  earldom  of  Chester;  which  ever 
being  a  kind  of  appanage  to  the  principality  of 
Wales,  and  using  to  go  to  the  king's  son,  his  suit 
did  not  only  end  in  a  denial  but  in  a  distaste :  the 
king  perceiving  thereby,  that  his  desires  were  in 
temperate,  and  his  cogitations  vast  and  irregular, 
and  that  his  former  benefits  were  but  cheap,  and 
lightly  regarded  by  him.  Wherefore  the  king 
began  not  to  brook  him  well.  And  as  a  little 
leaven  of  new  distaste  doth  commonly  sour  the  j 
whole  lump  of  former  merits,  the  king's  wit 
began  now  to  suggest  unto  his  passion,  that 
Stanley,  at  Bosworth-field,  though  he  came  time 
enough  to  save  his  life,  yet  he  stayed  long  enough  | 
to  endanger  it.  But  yet,  having  no  matter  against 
him,  he  continued  him  in  his  places  until  this  his 
fall. 

After  him  was  made  lord  chamberlain,  Giles, 
Lord  D'Aubigny,  a  man  of  great  sufficiency  and 
valour;  the  more  because  he  was  gentle  and 
moderate. 

There  was  a  common  opinion,  that  Sir  Robert 
Clifford,  who  now  was  become  the  state  informer, 
was  from  the  beginning  an  emissary  and  spy  of 
the  king's;  and  that  he  fled  over  into  Flanders 

VOL.  I 45 


with  his  consent  and  privity.  But  this  is  not 
probable;  both  because  he  never  recovered  that 
degree  of  grace  which  he  had  with  the  king  be 
fore  his  going  over;  and  chiefly,  for  that  the  dis 
covery  which  he  had  made  touching  the  lord 
chamberlain,  which  was  his  great  service,  grew 
not  from  any  thing  he  learned  abroad,  for  that  he 
knew  it  well  before  he  went. 

These  executions,  and  especially  that  of  the  lord 
chamberlain's,  which  was  the  chief  strength  of 
the  party,  and  by  means  of  Sir  Robert  Clifford, 
who  was  the  most  inward  man  of  trust  amongst 
them,  did  extremely  quail  the  design  of  Perkin 
and  his  complices,  as  well  through  discourage 
ment  as  distrust.  So  that  they  were  now,  like 
sand  without  lime,  ill  bound  together;  especially 
as  many  as  were  English,  who  were  at  a  gaze, 
looking  strange  one  upon  another,  not  knowing 
who  was  faithful  to  their  side ;  but  thinking  that 
the  king,  what  with  his  baits,  and  what  with  his 
nets,  would  draw  them  all  unto  him  that  were 
any  thing  worth.  And  indeed  it  came  to  pass, 
that  divers  came  away  by  the  thread,  sometimes 
one  and  sometimes  another.  Barley,  that  was 
joint  commissioner  with  Clifford,  did  hold  out 
one  of  the  longest,  till  Perkin  was  far  worn;  yet 
made  his  peace  at  the  length.  But  the  fall  of 
this  great  man,  being  in  so  high  authority  and 
favour,  as  \vas  thought,  with  the  king ;  and  the 
manner  of  carriage  of  the  business,  as  if  there 
had  been  secret  inquisition  upon  him  for  a  great 
time  before;  and  the  cause  for  which  he  suffered, 
which  was  little  more  than  for  saying  in  effect 
that  the  title  of  York  was  better  than  the  title  of 
Lancaster;  which  was  the  case  almost  of  every 
man,  at  the  least  in  opinion,  was  matter  of  great 
terror  amongst  all  the  king's  servants  and  sub 
jects:  insomuch  as  no  man  almost  thought  him 
self  secure,  and  men  durst  scarce  commune  or 
talk  one  with  another,  but  there  was  a  general 
diffidence  everywhere  :  which  nevertheless  made 
the  king:  rather  more  absolute  than  more  safe. 
For  "bleeding  inwards,  and  shut  vapours,  strangle 
soonest,  and  oppress  most." 

Hereupon  presently  came  forth  swarms  and 
vollies  of  libels,  which  are  the  gusts  of  liberty 
of  speech  restrained,  and  the  females  of  sedition, 
containing  bitter  invectives  and  slanders  against 
the  king  and  some  of  the  council :  for  the  con 
triving  and  dispersing  whereof,  after  great  dili 
gence  of  inquiry,  five  mean  persons  were  caught 
up  and  executed. 

Meanwhile  the  king  did  not  neglect  Ireland, 
being  the  soil  where  these  mushrooms  and  upstart 
weeds,  that  spring  up  in  a  night,  did  chiefly 
prosper.  He  sent  therefore  from  hence,  for  the 
better  settling  of  his  affairs  there,  commissioners 
of  both  robes,  the  Prior  of  Lanthony,  to  be  his 
chancellor  in  that  kingdom;  and  Sir  Edward 
Poynings,  with  a  power  of  men,  and  a  martial 
commission,  together  with  a  civil  power  of  las 
2o  2 


354 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


lieutenant,  with  a  clause,  that  the  Earl  of  Kil- 
dare,  then  deputy,  should  obey  him.  But  the 
wild  Irish,  who  were  the  principal  offenders,  fled 
into  the  woods  and  bogs,  after  their  manner;  and 
those  that  knew  themselves  guilty  in  the  pale, 
fled  to  them.  So  that  Sir  Edward  Poynings  was 
enforced  to  make  a  wild  chase  upon  the  wild 
Irish;  where,  in  respect  of  the  mountains  and 
fastnesses,  he  did  little  good.  Which,  either  out 
of  a  suspicious  melancholy  upon  his  bad  success, 
or  the  better  to  save  his  service  from  disgrace,  he 
would  needs  impute  unto  the  comfort  that  the 
rebels  should  receive  underhand  from  the  Earl  of 
Kildare;  every  light  suspicion  growing  upon  the 
earl,  in  respect  of  the  Kildare  that  was  in  the  ac 
tion  of  Lambert  Simnel,  and  slain  at  Stokefield. 
Wherefore  he  caused  the  earl  to  be  apprehended 
and  sent  into  England  ;  where,  upon  examination, 
he  cleared  himself  so  well,  as  he  was  replaced  in 
his  government.  But  Poynings,  the  better  to 
make  compensation  of  the  meagerness  of  his  ser 
vice  in  the  wars  by  acts  of  peace,  called  a  parlia 
ment;  where  was  made  that  memorable  act, 
which  at  this  day  is  called  Poynings'  law, 
whereby  all  the  statutes  of  England  were  made 
to  be  of  force  in  Ireland ;  for  before  they  were 
not,  neither  are  any  now  in  force  in  Ireland, 
which  were  made  in  England  since  that  time ; 
which  was  the  tenth  year  of  the  king. 

About  this  time  began  to  be  discovered  in  the 
king  that  disposition,  which  afterwards,  nourished 
and  whet  on  by  bad  counsellors  and  ministers, 
proved  the  blot  of  his  times :  which  was  the 
course  he  took  to  crush  treasure  out  of  his  sub 
jects'  purses,  by  forfeitures  upon  penal  laws. 
At  this  men  did  startle  the  more  at  this  time,  be 
cause  it  appeared  plainly  to  be  in  the  king's  na 
ture,  and  not  out  of  his  necessity,  he  being  now 
in  float  for  treasure :  for  that  he  had  newly  received 
the  peace-money  from  France,  the  benevolence- 
money  from  his  subjects,  and  great  casualties 
upon  the  confiscations  of  the  lord  chamberlain 
and  divers  others.  The  first  noted  case  of  this 
kind  was  that  of  Sir  William  Capel,  alderman 
of  London;  who,  upon  sundry  penal  laws,  was 
condemned  in  the  sum  of  seven  and  twenty  hun 
dred  pounds,  and  compounded  with  the  king  for 
sixteen  hundred :  and  yet  after,  Empson  would 
have  cut  another  chop  out  of  him  if  the  king  had 
not  died  in  the  instant. 

The  summer  following,  the  king,  to  comfort 
his  mother,  whom  he  did  always  tenderly  love 
and  revere,  and  to  make  open  demonstration  to 
the  world,  that  the  proceedings  against  Sir  Wil 
liam  Stanley,  which  was  imposed  upon  him  by 
necessity  of  state,  had  not  in  any  deo-ree  dimi 
nished  the  affection  he  bare  to  Thomas  his  bro 
ther,  went  in  progress  to  Latham,  to  make  merry 
with  his  mother  and  the  earl,  and  lay  there  divers 
days. 

During  this  progress,  Perkin  Warbeck,  finding 


that  time  and  temporising,  which,  whilst  his 
practices  were  covert  and  wrought  well  in  Eng 
land,  made  for  him;  did  now,  when  they  were 
discovered  and  defeated,  rather  make  against  him, 
for  that  when  matters  once  go  down  the  hill,  they 
stay  riot  without  a  new  force,  resolved  to  try  his 
adventure  in  some  exploit  upon  England  ;  hoping 
still  upon  the  affections  of  the  common  people 
towards  the  house  of  York.  Which  body  of 
common  people  he  thought  was  not  to  be  practised 
upon,  as  persons  of  quality  are ;  but  that  the 
only  practice  upon  their  affections  was  to  set  up 
a  standard  in  the  field.  The  place  where  he 
should  make  his  attempt,  he  chose  to  be  the  coast 
of  Kent. 

The  king  by  this  time  was  grown  to  such  a 
height  of  reputation  for  cunning  and  policy,  that 
every  accident  and  event  that  went  well,  was  laid 
and  imputed  to  his  foresight,  as  if  he  had  set  it 
before :  as  in  this  particular  of  Perkin's  design 
upon  Kent.  For  the  world  would  not  believe 
afterwards,  but  the  king,  having  secret  intelli 
gence  of  Perkin's  intention  for  Kent,  the  better 
to  draw  it  on,  went  of  purpose  into  the  north  afar 
off,  laying  an  open  side  unto  Perkin,  to  make  him 
come  to  the  close,  and  so  to  trip  up  his  heels, 
having  made  sure  in  Kent  beforehand. 

But  so  it  was,  that  Perkin  had  gathered  together 
a  power  of  all  nations,  neither  in  number,  nor  in 
the  hardiness  and  courage  of  the  persons,  con 
temptible,  but  in  their  nature  and  fortunes  to  be 
feared,  as  well  of  friends  as  enemies;  being 
bankrupts,  and  many  of  them  felons,  and  such 
as  lived  by  rapine.  These  he  put  to  sea,  and 
arrived  upon  the  coast  of  Sandwich  and  Deal,  in 
Kent,  about  July. 

There  he  cast  anchor,  and  to  prove  the  affec 
tions  of  the  people,  sent  some  of  his  men  to  land, 
making  great  boasts  of  the  power  that  was  to 
follow.  The  Kentish  men,  perceiving  that  Per 
kin  was  not  followed  by  any  English  of  name  or 
account,  and  that  his  forces  consisted  but  of  stran 
gers  bom,  and 'most  of  them  base  people  and 
freebooters,  fitter  to  spoil  a  coast  than  to  recover 
a  kingdom ;  resorting  unto  the  principal  gentle 
men  of  the  country,  professed  their  loyalty  to  the 
king,  and  desired  to  be  directed  and  commanded 
for  the  best  of  the  king's  service.  The  gentlemen, 
entering  into  consultation,  directed  some  forces 
in  good  number  to  show  themselves  upon  the 
coast;  and  some  of  them  to  make  signs  to  entice 
Perkin's  soldiers  to  land,  as  if  they  would  join 
with  them ;  and  some  others  to  appear  from 
some  other  places,  and  to  make  semblance  as 
if  they  fled  from  them,  the  better  to  encourage 
them  to  land.  But  Perkin,  who  by  playing  the 
prince,  or  else  taught  by  secretary  Frion,  had 
learned  thus  much,  that  people  under  command 
do  use  to  consult,  and  after  to  march  in  order; 
and  rebels  contrariwise  run  upon  a  head  together 
in  confusion,  considering  the  delay  of  time,  and 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


355 


observing  their  orderly  and  not  tumultuary  arming, 
doubted  the  worst.  And  therefore  the  wily  youth 
would  not  set  one  foot  out  of  his  ship,  till  he 
might  see  things  were  sure.  Wherefore  the 
king's  forces,  perceiving  that  they  could  draw  on 
no  more  than  those  that  were  formerly  landed, 
set  upon  them  and  cut  them  in  pieces,  ere  they 
could  fly  back  to  their  ships.  In  which  skirmish, 
besides  those  that  were  fled  and  were  slain,  there 
were  taken  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  persons. 
Which,  for  that  the  king  thought,  that  to  punish 
a  few  for  example  was  gentlemen's  pay ;  but  for 
rascal  people,  they  were  to  be  cut  off  every  man, 
especially  in  the  beginning  of  an  enterprise  :  and 
likewise  for  that  he  saw  that  Perkin's  forces 
would  now  consist  chiefly  of  such  rabble  and 
scum  of  desperate  people,  he  therefore  hanged 
them  all  for  the  greater  terror.  They  were 
brought  to  London  all  railed  in  ropes,  like  a  team 
of  horses  in  a  cart,  and  were  executed,  some  of 
them  at  London  and  Wapping,  and  the  rest  at 
divers  places  upon  the  sea-coast  of  Kent,  Sussex, 
and  Norfolk,  for  sea-marks  or  light-houses,  to 
teach  Perkin's  people  to  avoid  the  coast.  The 
king  being  advertised  of  the  landing  of  the  rebels, 
thought  to  leave  his  progress  :  but  being  certified 
the  next  day,  that  they  were  partly  defeated,  and 
partly  fled,  he  continued  his  progress,  and  sent 
Sir  Richard  Guildford  into  Kent  in  message ; 
who  calling  the  country  together,  did  much  com 
mend  from  the  king  their  fidelity,  manhood,  and 
v  ell  handling  of  that  service ;  and  gave  them  all 
thanks,  and,  in  private,  promised  reward  to  some 
particulars. 

Upon  the  sixteenth  of  November,  this  being 
the  eleventh  year  of  the  king,  was  holden  the 
sergeants'  feast  at  Ely-place,  there  being  nine 
sergeants  of  that  call.  The  king,  to  honour  the 
feast,  was  present  with  his  queen  at  the  dinner; 
being  a  prince  that  was  ever  ready  to  grace  and 
countenance  the  professors  of  the  law ;  having  a 
little  of  that,  that  as  he  governed  his  subjects 
by  his  laws,  so  he  governed  his  laws  by  his 
lawyers. 

This  year  also  the  king  entered  into  league 
with  the  Italian  potentates  for  the  defence  of 
Italy  against  France.  For  King  Charles  had 
conquered  the  realm  of  Naples,  and  lost  it  again, 
in  a  kind  of  a  felicity  of  a  dream.  He  passed 
the  whole  length  of  Italy  without  resistance ;  so 
that  it  was  true  which  Pope  Alexander  was  wont 
to  say,  "That  the  Frenchmen  came  into  Italy 
with  chalk  in  their  hands  to  mark  up  their  lodg 
ings,  rather  than  with  swords  to  fight."  He  like 
wise  entered  and  won,  in  effect,  the  whole  king 
dom  of  Naples  itself,  without  striking  stroke. 
But  presently  thereupon  he  did  commit  and 
multiply  so  many  errors,  as  was  too  great  a  task 
for  the  best  fortune  to  overcome.  He  gave  no 
contentment  to  the  Barons  of  Naples,  of  the  fac 
tion  of  the  Angeovines;  but  scattered  his  rewards 


according  to  the  mercenary  appetites  of  some 
about  him.  He  put  all  Italy  upon  their  guard, 
by  the  seizing  and  holding  of  Ostia,  and  the  pro 
tecting  of  the  liberty  of  Pisa;  which  made  all 
men  suspect  that  his  purposes  looked  farther 
than  his  title  of  Naples.  He  fell  too  soon  at 
difference  with  Ludovico  Sfortia,  who  wras  the 
man  that  carried  the  keys  which  brought  him  in, 
and  shut  him  out.  He  neglected  to  extinguish 
some  relics  of  the  war.  And  lastly,  in  regard 
of  his  easy  passage  through  Italy  without  resist 
ance,  he  entered  into  an  overmuch  despising  of 
the  arms  of  the  Italians ;  whereby  he  left  the 
realm  of  Naples  at  his  departure  so  much  the 
less  provided.  So  that  not  long  after  his  return, 
the  whole  kingdom  revolted  to  Ferdinando  the 
younger,  and  the  French  were  quite  driven  out. 
Nevertheless  Charles  did  make  both  great  threats 
and  great  preparations  to  re-enter  Italy  once 
again.  Wherefore  at  the  instance  of  divers  of 
the  states  of  Italy,  and  especially  of  Pope  Alex 
ander,  there  was  a  league  concluded  between  the 
said  pope;  Maximilian,  King  of  the  Romans; 
Henry,  King  of  England ;  Ferdinando  and  Isa 
bella,  King  and  Queen  of  Spain ;  for  so  they  are 
constantly  placed  in  the  original  treaty  through 
out;  Augustino  Barbadico,  Duke  of  Venice;  and 
Ludovico  Sfortia,  Duke  of  Milan ;  for  the  com 
mon  defence  of  their  estates :  wherein  though 
Ferdinando  of  Naples  was  not  named  as  prin 
cipal,  yet,  no  doubt,  the  kingdom  of  Naples  was 
tacitly  included  as  a  fee  of  the  church. 

There  died  also  this  year,  Cecile,  Duchess  of 
York,  mother  to  King  Edward  the  Fourth,  at  her 
castle  of  Berkhamstead,  being  of  extreme  years, 
and  wTho  had  lived  to  see  three  princes  of  her  body 
crowned,  and  four  murdered.  She  was  buried  at 
Foderingham,  by  her  husband. 

This  year  also  the  king  called  his  parliament, 
where  many  laws  were  made  of  a  more  private 
and  vulgar  nature  than  ought  to  detain  the  reader 
of  a  history.  And  it  may  be  justly  suspected 
by  the  proceedings  following,  that  as  the  king 
did  excel  in  good  commonwealth  laws,  so,  never 
theless,  he  had  in  secret  a  design  to  make  use  of 
them,  as  well  for  collecting  of  treasure  as  for  correct 
ing  of  manners ;  and  so  meaning  thereby  to  harrow 
his  people,  did  accumulate  them  the  rather. 

The  principal  law  that  was  made  this  parlia 
ment  was  a  law  of  a  strange  nature ;  rather  just 
than  legal ;  and  more  magnanimous  than  provi 
dent.  This  law  did  ordain,  That  no  person  that 
did  assist  in  arms,  or  otherwise,  the  king  for  the 
time  being,  should  after  be  impeached  therefore, 
or  attainted,  either  by  the  course  of  the  law,  or 
by  act  of  parliament.  But  if  any  such  act  of  at 
tainder  did  happen  to  be  made,  it  should  be  void 
and  of  none  effect ;  for  that  it  was  agreeable  to  rea 
son  of  estate,  that  the  subject  should  not  inquire 
of  the  justness  of  the  king's  title  or  quarrel;  and 
it  was  agreeable  to  good  conscience,  that,  what- 


356 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


soever  the  fortune  of  the  war  were,  the  subject 
should  not  suffer  for  his  obedience.  The  spirit 
of  this  law  was  wonderful  pious  and  noble,  being 
like,  in  matter  of  war,  unto  the  spirit  of  David  in 
matter  of  plague;  who  said,  "If  I  have  sinned, 
strike  me:  but  what  have  these  sheep  done1?" 
Neither  wanted  this  law  parts  of  prudent  and  deep 
foresight;  for  it  did  the  better  take  away  occa 
sions  for  the  people  to  busy  themselves  to  pry  into 
the  king's  title;  for  that  howsoever  it  fell,  their 
safety  was  already  provided  for.  Besides,  it 
could  not  but  greatly  draw  unto  him  the  love  and 
hearts  of  the  people,  because  he  seemed  more  care 
ful  for  them  than  for  himself.  But  yet,  neverthe 
less,  it  did  take  off  from  his  party  that  great  tie 
and  spur  of  necessity,  to  fight  and  go  victors  out 
of  the  field  ;  considering  their  lives  and  fortunes 
were  put  in  safety  and  protected,  whether  they 
stood  to  it  or  ran  away.  But  the  force  and  obli 
gation  of  this  law  was  in  itself  illusory,  as  to  the 
latter  part  of  it,  by  a  precedent  act  of  parliament 
to  bind  or  frustrate  a  future.  For  a  supreme  and 
absolute  power  cannot  conclude  itself,  neither  can 
that  which  is  in  nature  revocable  be  made  fixed, 
no  more  than  if  a  man  should  appoint  or  declare 
by  his  will,  that  if  he  made  any  latter  will  it  should 
be  void.  And  for  the  case  of  the  act  of  parlia 
ment,  there  is  a  notable  precedent  of  it  in  King 
Henry  the  Eighth's  time ;  who  doubting  he  might 
die  in  the  minority  of  his  son,  procured  an  act  to 
pass,  That  no  statute  made  during  the  minority  of 
a  king,  should  bind  him  or  his  successors,  except 
it  were  confirmed  by  the  king  under  his  great  seal 
&t  his  full  age.  But  the  first  act  that  passed  in 
King  Edward  the  Sixth's  time  was  an  act  of  re 
peal  of  that  former  act;  at  which  time  neverthe 
less  the  king  was  minor.  But  things  that  do  not 
bind,  may  satisfy  for  the  time. 

There  was  also  made  a  shearing  or  underprop 
ping  act  for  the  benevolence:  to  make  the  sums 
which  any  person  had  agreed  to  pay,  and  never 
theless  were  not  brought  in,  to  bo  leviable  by 
course  of  law.  Which  act  did  not  only  bring  in 
the  arrears,  but  did  indeed  countenance  the  whole 
business,  and  was  pretended  to  be  made  at  the 
desire  of  those  that  had  been  forward  to  pay. 

This  parliament  also  was  made  that  good  law, 
which  gave  the  attaint  upon  a  false  verdict  be 
tween  party  and  party,  which  before  was  a  kind 
of  evangile,  irremediable.  It  extends  not  to  causes 
capital,  as  well  because  they  are  for  the  most  part 
at  the  king's  suit,  as  because,  in  them,  if  they  be 
followed  in  course  of  indictment,  there  passeth  a 
double  jury,  the  indictors  and  the  triers :  and  so 
not  twelve  men,  but  four-and-twenty.  But  it  seem- 
eth  that  was  not  the  only  reason  ;  for  this  reason 
holdeth  not  in  the  appeal.  But  the  great  reason 
was,  lest  it  should  tend  to  the  discouragement  of 
jurors  in  cases  of  life  and  death  ;  if  they  should  be 
subject  to  suit  and  penalty,  where  the  favour  of 
life  raaketh  against  them.  It  extend eth  not  also 


to  any  suit,  where  the  demand  is  under  the  value 
of  forty  pounds ;  for  that  in  such  cases  of  petty 
value  it  would  not  quit  the  charge,  to  go  about 
again. 

There  was  another  law  made  against  a  branch 
of  ingratitude  in  women,  who  having  been  ad 
vanced  by  their  husbands,  or  their  husbands'  an 
cestors,  should  alien,  and  thereby  seek  to  defeat  the 
heirs,  or  those  in  remainder,  of  the  lands  where- 
unto  they  had  been  so  advanced.  The  remedy 
was,  by  giving  power  to  the  next,  to  enter  for  a 
forfeiture. 

There  was  also  enacted  that  charitable  law,  for 
the  admission  of  poor  suitors  in  forma  pauperis, 
without  fee  to  counsellor,  attorney,  or  clerk,  where 
by  poor  men  became  rather  able  to  vex  than  un 
able  to  sue.  There  were  divers  other  good  laws 
made  that  parliament,  as  we  said  before  ;  but  we 
still  observe  our  manner,  in  selecting  out  those 
that  are  not  of  a  vulgar  nature. 

The  king,  this  while,  though  he  sat  in  parlia 
ment,  as  in  full  peace,  and  seemed  to  account  of 
the  designs  of  Perkin,  who  was  now  returned  into 
Flanders,  but  as  a  May-game  ;  yet  having  the 
composition  of  a  wise  king,  stout  without,  and 
apprehensive  within,  had  given  order  for  the 
watching  of  beacons  upon  the  coasts,  and  erecting 
more  where  they  stood  too  thin,  and  had  a  care 
ful  eye  where  this  wandering  cloud  would  break. 
But  Perkin,  advised  to  keep  his  fire,  which  hither 
to  burned  as  it  were  upon  green  wood,  alive 
with  continual  blowing,  sailed  again  into  Ireland, 
whence  he  had  formerly  departed,  rather  upon  the 
hopes  of  France,  than  upon  any  unreadiness  or 
discouragement  he  found  in  that  people.  But  in 
the  space  of  time  between,  the  king's  diligence 
and  Poynings's  commission  had  so  settled  things 
there,  as  there  was  nothing  left  for  Perkin,  but  the 
blustering  affection  of  wild  and  naked  people. 
Wherefore  he  was  advised  by  his  council  to  seek 
aid  of  the  King  of  Scotland,  a  prince  young  and 
valorous,  and  in  good  terms  with  his  nobles  and 
people,  and  ill  affected  to  King  Henry.  At  this 
time  also  both  Maximilian  and  Charles  of  France 
began  to  bear  no  good  will  to  the  king  :  the  one 
being  displeased  with  the  king's  prohibition  of 
commerce  with  Flanders  ;  the  other  holding  the 
king  for  suspect,  in  regard  of  his  late  entry  into 
league  with  the  Italians.  W'herefore,  besides  the 
open  aids  of  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  which  did 
with  sails  and  oars  put  on  and  advance  Perkin's 
designs,  there  wanted  not  some  secret  tides  from 
Maximilian  and  Charles,  which  did  further  his 
fortunes  :  insomuch  as  they,  both  by  their  secret 
letters  and  messages,  recommended  him  to  the 
King  of  Scotland. 

Perkin,  therefore,  coming  into  Scotland  upon 

those  hopes,   with   a  well-appointed    company. 

was  by  the  King  of  Scots,  being  formerly  well 

prepared,  honourably  welcomed,  and  soon  after 

I  his  arrival  admitted  to  his  presence,  in  a  solemn 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


357 


manner :  for  the  king  received  him  in  state  in  his 
chamber  of  presence,  accompanied  with  divers 
of  his  nobles.  And  Perkin  well  attended,  as 
well  with  those  that  the  king  had  sent  before 
him,  as  with  his  own  train,  entered  the  room 
where  the  king  was,  and  coming  near  to  the 
king,  and  bowing  a  little  to  embrace  him,  he 
retired  some  paces  back,  and  with  a  loud  voice, 
that  all  that  were  present  might  hear  him,  made 
his  declaration  in  this  manner: 

"  High  and  mighty  king,  your  grace,  and  these 
your  nobles  here  present,  may  be  pleased  benignly 
to  bow  your  ears  to  hear  the  tragedy  of  a  young 
man,  that  by  right  ought  to  hold  in  his  hand  the 
ball  of  a  kingdom;  but  by  fortune  is  made  him 
self  a  ball,  tossed  from  misery  to  misery,  and 
from  place  to  place.  You  see  here  before  you 
the  spectacle  of  a  Plantagenet,  who  hath  been 
carried  from  the  nursery  to  the  sanctuary ;  from 
the  sanctuary  to  the  direful '  prison ;  from  the 
prison  to  the  hand  of  the  cruel  tormentor ;  and 
from  that  hand  to  the  wide  wilderness,  as  I  may 
truly  call  it,  for  so  the  world  hath  been  to  me. 
So  that  he  that  is  born  to  a  great  kingdom,  hath 
not  ground  to  set  his  foot  upon,  more  than  this 
where  he  now  standeth  by  your  princely  favour. 
Edward  the  Fourth,  late  King  of  England,  as 
your  grace  cannot  but  have  heard,  left  two  sons, 
Edward,  and  Richard,  Duke  of  York,  both  very 
young.  Edward,  the  eldest,  succeeded  their  father 
m  the  crown,  by  the  name  of  King  Edward  the 
Fifth:  but  Richard,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  their 
unnatural  uncle,  first  thirsting  after  the  kingdom 
through  ambition,  and  afterwards  thirsting  Tor 
their  blood,  out  of  desire  to  secure  himself,  em 
ployed  an  instrument  of  his,  confident,  to  him,  as 
he  thought,  to  murder  them  both.  But  this  man 
that  was  employed  to  execute  that  execrable 
tragedy,  having  cruelly  slain  King  Edward,  the 
eldest  of  the  two,  was  moved,  partly  by  remorse, 
and  partly  by  some  other  mean,  to  save  Richard 
his  brother;  making  a  report  nevertheless  to  the 
tyrant,  that  he  had  performed  his  commandment 
for  both  brethren.  This  report  was  accordingly 
believed,  and  published  generally;  so  that  the 
world  hath  been  possessed  of  an  opinion,  that 
they  both  were  barbarously  made  away;  though 
ever  truth  hath  some  sparks  that  fly  abroad,  until 
it  appear  in  due  time,  as  this  hath  had.  But 
Almighty  God,  that  stopped  the  mouth  of  the 
lion,  and  saved  little  Joash  from  the  tyranny  of 
Athaliah,  when  she  massacred  the  king's  child 
ren;  and  did  save  Isaac,  when  the  hand  was 
stretched  forth  to  sacrifice  him ;  preserved  the 
second  brother.  For  I  myself,  that  stand  here 
in  your  presence,  am  that  very  Richard,  Duke  of 
York,  brother  of  that  unfortunate-  prince,  Kinjj 
Eil  ward  the  Fifth,  now  the  most  rightful  surviving 
heir  male  to  that  victorious  and  most  noble  Ed 
ward,  of  that  name  the  fourth,  late  King  of  Eng 
land.  For  the  manner  of  my  escape,  it  is  fit  it 


should  pass  in  silence,  or  at  least  in  a  more  secret 
relation ;  for  that  it  may  concern  some  alive,  and 
the  memory  of  some  that  are  dead.  Let  it  suffice 
to  think,  that  I  had  then  a  mother  living,  a  queen, 
and  one  that  expected  daily  such  a  commandment 
from  the  tyrant,  for  the  murdering  of  her  children. 
Thus  in  my  tender  age  escaping  by  God's  mercy 
out  of  London,  I  was  secretly  conveyed  over  sea ; 
where  after  a  time  the  party  that  had  me  in 
charge,  upon  what  new  fears,  change  of  mind, 
or  practice,  God  knoweth,  suddenly  forsook  me. 
Whereby  I  was  forced  to  wander  abroad,  and  to 
seek  mean  conditions  for  the  sustaining  of  my 
life.  Wherefore  distracted  between  several  pas 
sions,  the  one  of  fear  to  be  known,  lest  the  tyrant 
should  have  a  new  attempt  upon  me ;  the  other 
of  grief  and  disdain  to  be  unknown,  and  to  live 
in  that  base  and  servile  manner  that  I  did ;  I 
resolved  with  myself  to  expect  the  tyrant's  death, 
and  then  to  put  myself  into  my  sister's  hands,  who 
was  next  heir  to  the  crown.  But  in  this  season 
it  happened  one  Henry  Tudor,  son  to  Edmund 
Tudor,  Earl  of  Richmond,  to  corne  from  France 
and  enter  into  the  realm,  and  by  subtile  and  foul 
means  to  obtain  the  crown  of  the  same,  which  to 
me  rightfully  appertained :  so  that  it  was  but  a 
change  from  tyrant  to  tyrant.  This  Henry,  my 
extreme  and  mortal  enemy,  so  soon  as  he  had 
knowledge  of  my  being  alive,  imagined  and 
wrought  all  the  subtile  ways  and  means  he  could 
to  procure  my  final  destruction;  for  ray  mortal 
enemy  hath  not  only  falsely  surmised  me  to  be  a 
feigned  person,  giving  me  nicknames,  so  abusing 
the  world;  but  also,  to  defer  and  put  me  from 
entry  into  England,  hath  offered  large  sums  of 
money  to  corrupt  the  princes  and  their  ministers, 
with  whom  I  have  been  retained  ;  and  made  im 
portune  labours  to  certain  servants  about  my  per 
son,  to  murder  or  poison  me,  and  others  to  forsake 
and  leave  my  righteous  quarrel,  and  to  depart 
from  my  service,  as  Sir  Robert  Clifford,  and 
others.  So  that  every  man  of  reason  may  well 
perceive,  that  Henry,  calling  himself  King  of 
England,  needed  not  to  have  bestowed  such  great 
sums  of  treasure,  nor  so  to  have  busied  himself 
with  importune  and  incessant  labour  and  industry, 
to  compass  my  death  and  ruin,  if  I  had  been  such 
a  feigned  person.  But  the  truth  of  my  cause 
being  so  manifest,  moved  the  most  Christian 
King  Charles,  and  the  Lady  Duchess  Dowager 
of  Burgundy,  my  most  dear  aunt,  not  only  to 
acknowledge  the  truth  thereof,  but  lovingly  to 
assist  me.  But  it  seemeth  that  God  above,  for 
the  good  of  this  whole  island,  and  the  knitting 
of  these  two  kingdoms  of  England  and  Scotland 
in  a  strait  concord  and  amity,  by  so  great  an  obli 
gation,  hath  reserved  the  placing  of  me  on  the 
imperial  throne  of  England  for  the  arms  and  suc 
cours  of  your  grace.  Neither  is  it  the  first  time 
that  a  King  of  Scotland  hath  supported  them  that 
were  bereft  and  spoiled  of  the  kingdom  of  Eng- 


358 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


land,  as  of  late,  in  fresh  memory,  it  was  done  in 
the  person  of  Henry  the  Sixth.  Wherefore,  for 
that  your  grace  hath  given  clear  signs,  that  you 
are  in  no  noble  quality  inferior  to  your  royal 
ancestors,  I,  so  distressed  a  prince,  was  hereby 
moved  to  come  and  put  myself  into  your  royal 
hands,  desiring  your  assistance  to  recover  my 
kingdom  of  England;  promising  faithfully  to 
bear  myself  towards  your  grace  no  otherwise 
than  if  I  were  your  own  natural  brother;  and 
will,  upon  the  recovery  of  mine  inheritance, 
gratefully  do  you  all  the  pleasure  that  is  in  my 
utmost  power." 

After  Perkin  had  told  his  tale,  King  James  an 
swered  bravely  and  wisely;  "That  whatsoever 
he  were,  he  should  not  repent  him  of  putting 
himself  into  his  hands."  And  from  that  time 
forth,  though  there  wanted  not  some  about  him, 
that  would  have  persuaded  him  that  all  was  but 
an  illusion ;  yet  notwithstanding,  either  taken 
by  Perkin's  amiable  and  alluring  behaviour,  or 
inclining  to  the  recommendation  of  the  great 
princes  abroad,  or  willing  to  take  an  occasion  of 
a  war  against  King  Henry,  he  entertained  him  in 
all  things  as  became  the  person  of  Richard,  Duke 
of  York ;  embraced  his  quarrel ;  and,  the  more  to 
put  it  out  of  doubt,  that  he  took  him  to  be  a  great 
prince,  and  not  a  representation  only,  he  gave 
consent  that  this  duke  should  take  to  wife  the 
Lady  Catharine  Gordon,  daughter  to  the  Earl  of 
Huntley,  being  a  near  kinswoman  to  the  king 
himself,  and  a  young  virgin  of  excellent  beauty 
and  virtue. 

Not  long  after,  the  King  of  Scots  in  person, 
with  Perkin  in  his  company,  entered  with  a  great 
army,  though  it  consisted  chiefly  of  borderers, 
being  raised  somewhat  suddenly,  into  North 
umberland.  And  Perkin,  for  a  perfume  before 
him  as  he  went,  caused  to  be  published  a  procla 
mation*  of  this  tenor  following,  in  the  name  of 
Richard,  Duke  of  York,  true  inheritor  of  the 
crown  of  England: 

"It  hath  pleased  God,  who  putteth  down  the 
mighty  from  their  seat,  and  exalteth  the  humble, 
-and  suffereth  not  the  hopes  of  the  just  to  perish 
in  the  end,  to  give  us  means  at  the  length  to  show 
ourselves  armed  unto  our  lieges  arid  people  of 
England.  But  far  be  it  from  us  to  intend  their 
hurt  or  damage,  or  to  make  war  upon  them,  other 
wise  than  to  deliver  ourselves  and  them  from 
tyranny  and  oppression.  For  our  mortal  enemy 
Henry  Tudor,  a  false  usurper  of  the  crown  of 
England,  which  to  us  by  natural  and  lineal  right 
appertaineth,  knowing  in  his  own  heart  our  un 
doubted  right,  we  being  the  very  Richard,  Duke 
of  York,  younger  son,  and  now  surviving  heir 
male  of  the  noble  and  victorious  Edward  the 
Fourth,  late  King  of  England,  hath  not  only 

*  The  original  of  this  proclamation  remaineth  with  Sir 
Robert  Cotton,  a  worthy  preserver  and  treasurer  of  rare 
antiquities :  from  whose  manuscripts  I  have  had  much  light 
for  the  furnishing  of  this  work. 


deprived  us  of  our  kingdom,  but  likewise,  by  all 
foul  and  wicked  means,  sought  to  betray  us,  and 
bereave  us  of  our  life.  Yet  if  his  tyranny  only 
extended  itself  to  our  person,  although  our  royal 
blood  teacheth  us  to  be  sensible  of  injuries,  it 
should  be  less  to  our  grief.  But  this  Tudor,  who 
boasteth  himself  to  have  overthrown  a  tyrant, 
hath,  ever  since  his  first  entrance  into  his  usurped 
reign,  put  little  in  practice  but  tyranny  and  the 
feats  thereof. 

"  For  King  Richard,  our  unnatural  uncle,  al 
though  desire  of  rule  did  blind  him,  yet  in  his 
other  actions,  like  a  true  Plantagenet,  was  noble, 
and  loved  the  honour  of  the  realm,  and  the  con 
tentment  and  comfort  of  his  nobles  and  people. 
But  this  our  mortal  enemy,  agreeable  to  the 
meanness  of  his  birth,  hath  trodden  under  foot 
the  honour  of  this  nation:  selling  our  best  con 
federates  for  money,  and  making  merchandise  of 
the  blood,  estates,  and  fortunes  of  our  peers  and 
subjects,  by  feigned  wars  and  dishonourable 
peace,  only  to  enrich  his  coffers.  Nor  unlike 
hath  been  his  hateful  misgovernment  and  evil 
deportments  at  home.  First,  he  hath,  to  fortify 
his  false  quarrel,  caused  divers  nobles  of  this  our 
realm,  whom  he  held  suspect  and  stood  in  dread 
of,  to  be  cruelly  murdered ;  as  our  cousin  Sir 
William  Stanley,  lord  chamberlain;  Sir  Simon 
Mountfort,  Sir  Robert  Ratcliffe,  William  D'Au- 
bigny,  Humphrey  Stafford,  and  many  others,  be 
sides  such  as  have  clearly  bought  their  lives  with 
intolerable  ransoms :  some  of  which  nobles  are 
now  in  the  sanctuary.  Also  he  hath  long  kept, 
and  yet  keepeth  in  prison,  our  right  entirely  well- 
beloved  cousin,  Edward,  son  and  heir  to  our 
uncle  Duke  of  Clarence,  and  others ;  withholding 
from  them  their  rightful  inheritance,  to  the  intent 
they  should  never  be  of  might  and  power,  to  aid 
and  assist  us  at  our  need,  after  the  duty  of  their 
legiances.  He  also  married  by  compulsion,  cer 
tain  of  our  sisters,  and  also  the  sister  of  our  said 
cousin  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  and  divers  other 
ladies  of  the  royal  blood,  unto  certain  of  his 
kinsmen  and  friends  of  simple  and  low  degree; 
and  putting  apart  all  well  disposed  nobles,  he 
hath  none  in  favour  and  trust  about  his  person, 
but  Bishop  Fox,  Smith,  Bray,  Lovel,  Oliver 
King,  David  Owen,  Risely,  Turbervile,  Tiler, 
Chomley,  Empson,  James  Hobart,  John  Cut, 
Garth,  Henry  Wyat,  and  such  other  caitiffs  and 
villains  of  birth,  which  by  subtile  inventions, 
and  pilling  of  the  people,  have  been  the  principal 
finders,  occasioners,  and'  counsellors  of  the  mis 
rule  and  mischief  now  reigning  in  England. 

"  We  remembering  these  premises,  with  the 
great  and  execrable  offences  daily  committed  and 
done  by  our  foresaid  great  enemy  and  his  adhe 
rents,  in  breaking  the  liberties  and  franchises  of 
our  mother  the  holy  church,  upon  pretences  of 
wicked  and  heathenish  policy,  to  the  high  displea 
sure  of  Almighty  God,  besides  the  manifold  trea 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


359 


sons,  abominable  murders,  manslaughters,  robbe 
ries,  extortions,  the  daily  pilling  of  the  people  by 
dismes,  taxes,  tallages,  benevolences,  and  other 
unlawful  impositions  and  grievous  exactions, 
with  many  other  heinous  effects,  to  the  likely 
destruction  and  desolation  of  the  whole  realm; 
shall,  by  God's  grace,  and  the  help  and  assistance 
of  the  great  lords  of  our  blood,  with  counsel  of 
other  sad  persons,  see  that  the  commodities  of  our 
realm  be  employed  to  the  most  advantage  of  the 
same  ;  the  intercourse  of  merchandise  betwixt 
realm  and  realm  to  be  ministered  and  handled  as 
shall  more  be  to  the  common  weal  and  pros 
perity  of  our  subjects  ;  and  all  such  dismes,  taxes, 
tallages,  benevolences,  unlawful  impositions,  and 
grievous  exactions,  as  be  above  rehearsed,  to  be 
foredone  and  laid  apart,  and  never  from  henceforth 
to  be  called  upon,  but  in  such  cases  as  our  noble 
progenitors,  kings  of  England,  have  of  the  old  time 
been  accustomed  to  have  the  aid,  succour,  and 
help  of  their  subjects,  and  true  liege-men. 

"  And  further,  we  do,  out  of  our  grace  and  cle 
mency,  hereby  as  well  publish  and  promise  to  all 
our  subjects  remission  and  free  pardon  of  all  by- 
past  offences  whatsoever,  against  our  person  or 
estate,  in  adhering  to  our  said  enemy,  by  whom, 
we  know  well,  they  have  been  misled,  if  they  shall 
within  time  convenient  submit  themselves  unto 
us.  And  for  such  as  shall  come  with  the  foremost 
to  assist  our  righteous  quarrel,  we  shall  make 
them  so  far  partakers  of  our  princely  favour  and 
bcunty,  as  shall  be  highly  for  the  comfort  of  them 
and  theirs,  both  during  their  life  and  after  their 
death  :  as  also  we  shall,  by  all  means  which  God 
shall  put  into  our  hands,  demean  ourselves  to  give 
royal  contentment  to  all  degrees  and  estate  of  our 
people,  maintaining  the  liberties  of  holy  church  in 
their  entire,  preserving  the  honours,  privileges, 
and  pre-eminences  of  our  nobles  from  contempt  or 
disparagement,  according  to  the  dignity  of  their 
blood.  We  shall  also  unyoke  our  people  from  all 
heavy  burdens  and  endurances,  and  confirm  our 
cities,  boroughs,  and  towns,  in  their  charters  and 
freedoms,  with  enlargement  where  it  shall  be  de 
served  ;  and  in  all  points  give  our  subjects  cause 
to  think,  that  the  blessed  and  debonair  govern 
ment  of  our  noble  father  King  Edward,  in  his  last 
times,  is  in  us  revived. 

"  And  forasmuch  as  the  putting  to  death,  or  tak 
ing  alive  of  our  said  mortal  enemy,  may  be  a 
mean  to  stay  much  effusion  of  blood,  which  other 
wise  may  ensue,  if  by  compulsion  or  fair  pro 
mises  he  shall  draw  after  him  any  number  of  our 
subjects  to  resist  us,  which  we  desire  to  avoid, 
though  we  be  certainly  informed  that  our  said 
enemy  is  purposed  and  prepared  to  fly  the  land, 
having  already  made  over  great  masses  of  the  trea 
sure  of  our  crown,  the  better  to  support  him  in  fo 
reign  parts,  we  do  hereby  declare,  that  whosoever 
shall  take  or  distress  our  said  enemy,  though 
the  party  be  of  never  so  mean  a  condition,  he  shall 


be  by  us  rewarded  with  a  thousand  pound  in 
money,  forthwith  to  be  laid  down  to  him,  and  a 
hundred  marks  by  the  year  of  inheritance;  besides 
that  he  may  otherwise  merit,  both  toward  God  and 
all  good  people,  for  the  destruction  of  such  a  tyrant. 

"  Lastly,  we  do  all  men  to  wit,  and  herein  we 
take  also  God  to  witness,  that  whereas  God  hath 
moved  the  heart  of  our  dearest  cousin,  the  King  of 
Scotland,  to  aid  us  in  person  in  this  our  righteous 
quarrel;  it  is  altogether  without  any  pact  or  pro 
mise,  or  so  much  as  demand  of  any  thing  that  may 
prejudice  our  crown  or  subjects:  but  contrariwise, 
with  promise  on  our  said  cousin's  part,  that  when 
soever  he  shall  find  us  in  sufficient  strength  to 
get  the  upper  hand  of  our  enemy,  which  we  hope 
will  be  very  suddenly,  he  will  forthwith  peace 
ably  return  into  his  own  kingdom  ;  contenting  him 
self  only  with  the  glory  of  so  honourable  an  en 
terprise,  and  our  true  and  faithful  love  and  amity ; 
which  we  shall  ever,  by  the  grace  of  Almighty 
God,  so  order,  as  shall  be  to  the  great  comfort  of 
both  kingdoms." 

But  Perkin's  proclamation  did  little  edify  with 
the  people  of  England  ;  neither  was  he  the  better 
welcome  for  the  company  he  came  in.  Where 
fore  the  King  of  Scotland,  seeing  none  came  in  to 
Perkin,  nor  none  stirred  anywhere  in  his  favour, 
turned  his  enterprise  into  a  rode  ;  and  wasted  and 
destroyed  the  country  of  Northumberland  with 
fire  and  sword.  But  hearing  that  there  were  forces 
coming  against  him,  and  not  willing  that  they 
should  find  his  men  heavy  and  laden  with  booty, 
he  returned  into  Scotland,  with  great  spoils,  de 
ferring  further  prosecution  till  another  time.  It  is 
said,  that  Perkin,  acting  the  part  of  a  prince  hand 
somely,  when  he  saw  the  Scottish  fell  to  waste  the 
country,  came  to  the  king  in  a  passionate  manner, 
making  great  lamentation,  and  desired,  that  that 
might  not  be  the  manner  of  making  the  war ;  for 
that  no  crown  was  so  dear  to  his  mind  as  that  he 
desired  to  purchase  it  with  the  blood  and  ruin  of 
his  country.  Whereunto  the  king  answered  half 
in  sport,  that  he  doubtefl  much,  he  was  careful  for 
that  that  was  none  of  his,  and  that  he  should  be 
too  good  a  steward  for  his  enemy,  to  save  the 
country  to  his  use. 

By  this  time,  being  the  eleventh  year  of  the 
king,  the  interruption  of  trade  between  the  Eng 
lish  and  the  Flemish  began  to  pinch  the  mer 
chants  of  both  nations  very  sore ;  which  moved 
them  by  all  means  they  could  devise,  to  affect  and 
dispose  their  sovereigns  respectively  to  open  the 
intercourse  again ;  wherein  time  favoured  them. 
For  the  archduke  and  his  council  began  to  see, 
that  Perkin  would  prove  but  a  runagate  and  a 
citizen  of  the  world  :  and  that  it  was  the  part  of 
children  to  fall  out  about  babies.  And  the  king, 
on  his  part,  after  the  attempts  upon  Kent  and 
Northumberland,  began  to  have  the  business  of 
Perkin  in  less  estimation ;  so  as  he  did  not  put  it 
to  account  in  any  consultation  of  state  But  that 


360 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


that  moved  him  most  was,  that  being  a  king-  that 
loved  wealth  and  treasure,  he  could  not  endure  to 
have  trade  sick,  nor  any  obstruction  to  continue  in 
the  gate-vein  which  disperseth  that  blood.  And 
yet  he  kept  state  so  far,  as  first  to  be  sought  unto. 
Wherein  the  merchant-adventurers  likewise,  be 
ing  a  strong  company  at  that  time,  and  well  un 
der-set  with  rich  men,  and  good  order,  did  hold 
out  bravely ;  taking  off  the  commodities  of  the 
kingdom,  though  they  lay  dead  upon  their  hands 
for  want  of  vent.  At  the  last,  commissioners  met 
at  London  to  treat:  on  the  king's  part,  Bishop 
Fox,  lord  privy  seal,  Viscount  Wells,  Kendal, 
prior  of  Saint  John's,  Warham,  master  of  the  rolls, 
who  began  to  gain  much  upon  the  king's  opinion; 
Urswick,  who  was  almost  ever  one ;  and  Risely  : 
on  the  archduke's  part,  the  Lord  .Severs,  his  ad 
miral  ;  the  Lord  Verunsel,  president  of  Flanders, 
and  others.  These  concluded  a  perfect  treaty, 
both  of  amity  and  intercourse,  between  the  king 
and  the  archduke;  containing  articles  both  of 
state,  commerce,  and  free  fishing.  This  is  that 
treaty  which  the  Flemings  call  at  this  day  "  inter- 
cursus  magnus ;"  both  because  it  is  more  com 
plete  than  the  precedent  treaties  of  the  third  and 
fourth  year  of  the  king ;  and  chiefly  to  give  it  a 
difference  from  the  treaty  that  followed  in  the  one- 
and-twentieth  year  of  the  king,  which  they  call 
"intercursus  malus."  In  this  treaty,  there  was 
an  express  article  against  the  reception  of  the 
rebels  of  either  prince  by  other,;  purporting,  That 
if  any  such  rebel  should  be  required,  by  the  prince 
whose  rebel  he  was,  of  the  prince  confederate, 
that  forthwith  the  prince  confederate  should  by 
proclamation  command  him  to  avoid  the  country  : 
which  if  he  did  not  within  fifteen  days,  the  rebel 
was  to  stand  proscribed,  and  put  out  of  protection. 
But  nevertheless  in  this  article  Perkin  was  not 
named,  neither  perhaps  contained,  because  he  was 
no  rebel.  But  by  this  means  his  wings  were 
dipt  of  his  followers  that  were  English.  And  it 
was  expressly  comprised  in  the  treaty,  that  it 
should  extend  to  the  territories  of  the  duchess- 
dowager.  After  the  intercourse  thus  restored,  the 
English  merchants  came  again  to  their  mansion 
at  Antwerp,  where  they  were  received  with  pro 
cession  and  great  joy. 

The  winter  following,  being  the  twelfth  year 
of  his  reign,  the  king  called  again  his  parliament; 
where  he  did  much  exaggerate  both  the  malice 
and  the  cruel  predatory  war  lately  made  by  the 
King  of  Scotland  :  That  the  king,  being  in  amity 
with  him,  and  noways  provoked,  should  so  burn 
in  hatred  towards  him,  as  to  drink  of  the  lees  and 
dregs  of  Perkin's  intoxication,  who  was  every 
where  else  detected  and  discarded  :  and  that  when 
he  perceived  it  was  out  of  his  reach  to  do  the  kino1 
any  hurt,  he  had  turned  his  arms  upon  unarmed 
and  unprovided  people,  to  spoil  only  and  depopu 
late,  contrary  to  the  laws  both  of  war  and  peace : 
concluding,  that  he  could  neither  with  honour,  nor 


with  the  safety  of  his  people,  to  whom  he  did  owe 
protection,  let  pass  these  wrongs  unrevenged. 
The  parliament  understood  him  well,  and  gave 
him  a  subsidy,  limited  to  the  sum  of  one  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand  pounds,  besides  two  fifteens : 
for  his  wars  were  always  to  him  as  a  mine  of 
treasure  of  a  strange  kind  of  ore  ;  iron  at  the  top, 
and  gold  and  silver  at  the  bottom.  At  this  parlia 
ment,  for  that  there  had  been  so  much  time  spent 
in  making  laws  the  year  before,  and  for  that  it 
was  called  purposely  in  respect  of  the  Scottish 
war,  there  were  no  laws  made  to  be  remembered. 
Only  there  passed  a  law,  at  the  suit  of  the  mer 
chant-adventurers  of  England,  against  the  mer 
chant-adventurers  of  London,  for  monopolizing 
and  exacting  upon  the  trade;  which  it  seemeth 
they  did  a  little  to  save  themselves  after  the  hard 
time  they  had  sustained  by  want  of  trade.  But 
those  innovations  were  taken  away  by  parliament. 
But  it  was  fatal  to  the  king  to  fight  for  his 
money ;  and  though  he  avoided  to  fight  with  ene 
mies  abroad,  yet  he  was  still  enforced  to  fight  for 
it  with  rebels  at  home :  for  no  sooner  began  the 
subsidy  to  be  levied  in  Cornwall,  but  the  people 
there  began  to  grudge  and  murmur.  The  Cornish 
being  a  race  of  men,  stout  of  stomach,  mighty  of 
body  and  limb,  and  that  lived  hardly  in  a  barren 
country,  and  many  of  them  could,  for  a  need,  live 
under  ground,  that  were  tinners.  They  muttered 
extremely,  that  it  was  a  thing  not  to  be  suffered, 
that  for  a  little  stir  of  the  Scots,  soon  blown  over, 
they  should  be  thus  grinded  to  powder  with  pay 
ments  ;  and  said  it  was  for  them  to  pay  that  had 
too  much,  and  lived  idly.  But  they  would  eat 
their  bread  that  they  got  with  the  sweat  of  their 
brows,  and  no  man  should  take  it  from  them. 
And  as  in  the  tides  of  people  once  up,  there  want 
not  commonly  stirring  winds  to  make  them  more 
rough ;  so  this  people  did  light  upon  two  ring 
leaders  or  captains  of  the  rout.  The  one  was  one 
Michael  Joseph,  a  blacksmith  or  farrier,  of  Bod- 
min,  a  notable  talking  fellow,  and  no  less  de 
sirous  to  be  talked  of.  The  other  was  Thomas 
Flammock,  a  lawyer,  who,  by  telling  his  neigh 
bours  commonly  upon  any  occasion  that  the  law 
was  on  their  side,  had  gotten  great  sway  amongst 
them.  This  man  talked  learnedly,  and  as  if  he 
could  tell  how  to  make  a  rebellion,  and  never 
break  the  peace.  He  told  the  people,  that  subsi 
dies  were  not  to  be  granted,  nor  levied  in  this 
case ;  that  is,  for  wars  of  Scotland  :  for  that  the 
law  had  provided  another  course,  by  service  of 
escuage  for  those  journeys  ;  much  less  when  ail 
was  quiet,  and  war  was  made  but  a  pretence  to 
poll  and  pill  the  people.  And  therefore  that  it 
was  good  they  should  not  stand  like  sheep  before 
the  shearers,  but  put  on  harness,  and  take  weapons 
in  their  hands.  Yet  to  do  no  creature  hurt;  but 
go  and  deliver  the  king  a  strong  petition  for  the 
laying  down  of  those  grievous  payments,  and  for 
the  punishment  of  those  that  had  given  him  that 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


361 


counsel ;  to  make  others  beware  how  they  did 
the  like  in  time  to  come.  And  said,  for  his  part 
he  did  not  see  how  they  could  do  the  duty  of  true 
Englishmen,  and  good  liege-men,  except  they  did 
deliver  the  king  from  such  wicked  ones,  that 
would  destroy  both  him  and  the  country.  Their 
aim  was  at  Archbishop  Morton  and  Sir  Reginald 
Bray,  who  were  the  king's  screens  in  this  envy. 

After  that  these  two,  Flammock  and  the  black 
smith,  had  by  joint  and  several  pratings  found 
tokens  of  consent  in  the  multitude,  they  offered 
themselves  to  lead  them,  until  they  should  hear 
of  better  men  to  be  their  leaders,  which  they  said 
would  be  ere  long:  telling  them  further  that  they 
would  be  but  their  servants,  and  first  in  every 
danger ;  but  doubted  not  but  to  make  both  the 
west-end  and  the  east-end  of  England  to  meet  in 
so  good  a  quarrel ;  and  that  all,  rightly  understood, 
was  but  for  the  king's  service.  The  people  upon 
these  seditious  instigations,  did  arm,  most  of 
them  with  bows  and  arrows,  and  bills,  and  such 
other  weapons  of  rude  and  country  people,  and 
forthwith  under  the  command  of  their  leaders, 
which  in  such  cases  is  ever  at  pleasure,  marched 
out  of  Cornwall  through  Devonshire  unto  Taun- 
ton  in  Somersetshire,  without  any  slaughter,  vio 
lence,  or  spoil  of  the  country.  At  Taunton  they 
killed  in  fury  an  officious  and  eager  commissioner 
for  the  subsidy,  whom  they  called  the  Provost  of 
Perin.  Thence  they  marched  to  Wells,  where 
the  Lord  Audley,  with  whom  their  leaders  had 
lefore  some  secret  intelligence,  a  nobleman  of  an 
ancient  family,  but  unquiet  and  popular,  and  as 
piring  to  ruin,  came  in  to  them,  and  was  by  them 
with  great  gladness  and  cries  of  joy  accepted  as 
their  general ;  they  being  now  proud  that  they 
were  led  by  a  nobleman.  The  Lord  Audley  led 
them  on  from  Wells  to  Salisbury,  and  from  Salis 
bury  to  Winchester.  Thence  the  foolish  people, 
who,  in  effect,  lead  their  leaders,  had  a  mind  to 
be  led  into  Kent,  fancying  that  the  people  there 
would  join  with  them  ;  contrary  to  all  reason  or 
judgment,  considering  the  Kentish  men  had 
showed  great  loyalty  and  affection  to  the  king  so 
lately  before.  But  the  rude  people  had  heard 
Flammock  say,  that  Kent  was  never  conquered, 
and  that  they  were  the  freest  people  of  England. 
And  upon  these  vain  noises,  they  looked  for  great 
matters  at  their  hands,  in  a  cause  which  they  con 
ceited  to  be  for  the  liberty  of  the  subject.  But 
when  they  were  corne  into  Kent,  the  country  was 
so  well  settled,  and  both  by  the  king's  late  kind 
usage  towards  them,  and  by  the  credit  and  power 
of  the  Earl  of  Kent,  the  Lord  Abergavenny,  and 
the  Lord  Cobham,  as  neither  gentleman  nor  yeo 
man  came  in  to  their  aid,  which  did  much  damp 
and  dismay  many  of  the  simpler  sort;  insomuch 
as  divers  of  them  did  secretly  fly  from  the  army, 
and  went  home  :  but  the  sturdier  sort,  and  those 
that  were  most  engaged,  stood  by  it,  and  rather 
waxed  proud,  than  failed  in  hopes  and  courage. 

VOL.  I.— 46 


j  For  as  it  did  somewhat  appal  them,  that  the  peo 
ple  came  not  in  to  them,  so  it  did  no  less  encou 
rage  them,  that  the  king's  forces  had  not  set  upon 
them,  having  marched  from  the  west  unto  the 
east  of  England.  Wherefore  they  kept  on  their 
way,  and  encamped  upon  Blackheath,  between 
Greenwich  and  Eltham,  threatening  either  to  bid 
battle  to  the  king,  for  now  the  seas  went  higher 
than  to  Morton  and  Bray,  or  to  take  London 
within  his  view ;  imagining  with  themselves, 
there  to  find  no  less  fear  than  wealth. 

But  to  return  to  the  king.  When  first  he  heard 
of  this  commotion  of  the  Cornish  men,  occasioned 
by  the  subsidy,  he  was  much  troubled  therewith ; 
not  for  itself,  but  in  regard  of  the  concurrence  of 
other  dangers  that  did  hang  over  him  at  that  time. 
For  he  doubted  lest  a  war  from  Scotland,  a  re 
bellion  from  Cornwall,  and  the  practices  and 
conspiracies  of  Perkin  and  his  partakers,  would 
come  upon  him  at  once:  knowing  well,  that  it 
was  a  dangerous  triplicity  to  a  monarchy,  to  have 
the  arms  of  a  foreigner,  the  discontents  of  sub 
jects,  and  the  title  of  a  pretender  to  meet. 
Nevertheless  the  occasion  took  him  in  some  part 
well  provided.  For  as  soon  as  the  parliament 
had  broken  up,  the  king  had  presently  raised  a 
puissant  army  to  war  upon  Scotland.  And  King 
James  of  Scotland  likewise,  on  his  part,  had 
made  great  preparations,  either  for  defence,  or 
for  new  assailing  of  England.  But  as  for  the 
king's  forces,  they  were  not  only  in  preparation, 
but  in  readiness  presently  to  set  forth,  under  the 
conduct  of  D'Aubigny,  the  lord  chamberlain. 
But  as  soon  as  the  king  understood  of  the 
rebellion  of  Cornwall,  he  stayed  those  forces, 
retaining  them  for  his  own  service  and  safety. 
But  therewithal  he  despatched  the  Earl  of  Surrey 
into  the  north,  for  the  defence  and  strength  of 
those  parts,  in  case  the  Scots  should  stir.  But 
for  the  course  he  held  towards  the  rebels,  it  was 
utterly  differing  from  his  former  custom  and  prac 
tice  :  which  was  ever  full  of  forwardness  and 
celerity  to  make  head  against  them,  or  to  set  upon 
them  as  soon  as  ever  they  were  in  action.  This  he 
was  wont  to  do.  But  now,  besides  that  he  was 
attempered  by  years,  and  less  in  love  with  dan 
gers,  by  the  continued  fruition  of  a  crown;  it 
was  a  time  when  the  various  appearance  to  his 
thoughts  of  perils  of  several  natures,  and  from 
divers  parts,  did  make  him  judge  it  his  best  and 
surest  way,  to  keep  his  strength  together  in  the 
seat  and  centre  of  his  kingdom :  according  to  the 
ancient  Indian  emblem,  in  such  a  swelling  season, 
to  hold  the  hand  upon  the  middle  of  the  bladder, 
that  no  side  might  rise.  Besides,  there  was  no 
necessity  put  upon  him  to  alter  his  counsel.  For 
neither  did  the  rebels  spoil  the  country,  in  which 
case  it  had  been  dishonour  to  abandon  his  people; 
neither  on  the  other  side  did  their  forces  gather 
or  increase,  which  might  hasten  him  to  precipitaie 
and  assail  them  before  they  grew  too  strong 
2H 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


And  lastly,  both  reason  of  estate  and  war  seemed 
to  agree  with  this  course :  for  that  insurrections 
of  base  people  are  commonly  more  furious  in 
their  beginnings.  And  by  this  means  also  he 
had  them  the  more  at  vantage,  being  tired  and 
harassed  with  a  long  march ;  and  more  at  mercy, 
being  cut  off  far  from  their  country,  and  therefore 
not  able  by  any  sudden  flight  to  get  to  retreat,  and 
to  renew  the  troubles. 

When  therefore  the  rebels  were  encamped  on 
Blackheath,  upon  the  hill,  whence  they  might 
behold  the  city  of  London,  and  the  fair  valley 
about  it;  the  king,  knowing  well  that  it  stood 
him  upon,  by  how  much  the  more  he  had  hitherto 
protracted  the  time  in  not  encountering  them,  by  so 
much  the  sooner  to  despatch  with  them,  that  it  might 
appear  to  have  been  no  coldness  in  fore-slowing, 
hut  wisdom  in  choosing  his  time;  resolved  with 
all  speed  to  assail  them,  and  yet  with  that  provi 
dence  and  surety,  as  should  leave  little  to  venture 
or  fortune.  And  having  very  great  and  puissant 
forces  about  him,  the  better  to  master  all  events 
and  accidents,  he  divided  them  into  three  parts; 
the  first  was  led  by  the  Earl  of  Oxford  in  chief, 
assisted  by  the  Earls  of  Essex  and  Suffolk. 
These  noblemen  were  appointed,  with  some  cor 
nets  of  horse  and  bands  of  foot,  and  good  store 
of  artillery,  wheeling  about  to  put  themselves 
beyond  the  hill  where  the  rebels  were  encamped  ; 
and  to  beset  all  the  skirts  and  descents  thereof, 
except  those  that  lay  towards  London;  thereby 
to  have  these  wild  beasts,  as  it  were,  in  a  toil. 
The  second  part  of  his  forces,  which  were  those 
that  were  to  be  most  in  action,  and  upon  which 
he  relied  most  for  the  fortune  of  the  day,  he  did 
assign  to  be  led  by  the  lord  chamberlain,  who 
was  appointed  to  set  upon  the  rebels  in  front, 
from  that  side  which  is  towards  London.  The 
third  part  of  his  forces,  being  likewise  great  and 
brave  forces,  he  retained  about  himself,  to  be 
ready  upon  all  events  to  restore  the  fight,  or  con 
summate  the  victory ;  and  meanwhile  to  secure 
the  city.  And  for  that  purpose  he  encamped  in 
person  in  St.  George's  Fields,  putting  himself  be 
tween  the  city  and  the  rebels.  But  the  city  of 
London,  especially  at  the  first,  upon  the  near  en 
camping  of  the  rebels,  was  in  great  tumult :  as 
it  useth  to  be  with  wealthy  and  populous  cities, 
especially  those  which  being  for  greatness  and 
fortune  queens  of  their  regions,  who  seldom  see 
out  of  their  windows,  or  from  their  towers,  an 
army  of  enemies.  But  that  which  troubled  them 
most,  was  the  conceit  that  they  dealt  with  a  rout 
of  people,  with  whom  there  was  no  composition 
or  condition,  or  orderly  treating,  if  need  were ; 
but  likely  to  be  bent  altogether  upon  rapine  and 
spoil.  And  although  they  had  heard  that  the 
rebels  had  behaved  themselves  quietly  and 
modestly  by  the  way  as  they  went;  yet  they 
doubted  much  that  would  not  last,  but  rather 
make  them  more  hungry,  and  more  in  appetite  to 


fall  upon  spoil  in  the  end.     Wherefore  there  was 
great  running  to  and  fro  of  people,  some  to  the 

'  gates,  some  to  the  walls,  some  to  the  water-side ; 
giving  themselves  alarms  and  panic  fears  con 
tinually.  Nevertheless,  both  Tate,  the  lord 
mayor,  and  Shaw  and  Haddon  the  sheriffs,  did 
their  parts,  stoutly  and  well,  in  arming  and  order 
ing  the  people.  And  the  king  likewise  did  adjoin 
some  captains  of  experience  in  the  wars,  to  advise 
and  assist  the  citizens.  But  soon  after,  when 
they  understood  that  the  king  had  so  ordered  the 
matter,  that  the  rebels  must  win  three  battles, 
before  they  could  approach  the  city,  and  that  he 
had  put  his  own  person  between  the  rebels  and 
them,  and  that  the  great  care  was,  rather  how  to 
impound  the  rebels  that  none  of  them  might 
escape,  than  that  any  doubt  was  made  to  vanquish 
them;  they  grew  to  be  quiet  and  out  of  fear;  the 
rather,  for  the  confidence  they  reposed,  which 
was  not  small,  in  the  three  leaders,  Oxford, 
Essex,  and  D'Aubigny;  all  men  well  famed  and 
loved  amongst  the  people.  As  for  Jasper,  Duke 
of  Bedford,  whom  the  king  used  to  employ  with 
the  first  in  his  wars,  he  was  then  sick,  and  died 
soon  after. 

It  was  the  two-and-twentieth  of  June,  and  a 
Saturday,  which  was  the  day  of  the  week  the 
king  fancied,  when  the  battle  was  fought:  though 
the  king  had,  by  all  the  art  he  could  devise,  given 
out  a  false  day,  as  if  he  prepared  to  give  the 
rebels  battle  on  the  Monday  following,  the  better 
to  find  them  unprovided,  and  in  disarray.  The 
lords  that  were  appointed  to  circle  the  hill,  had 
some  days  before  planted  themselves,  as  at  tne 
receipt,  in  places  convenient.  In  the  afternoon, 
towards  the  decline  of  the  day,  which  was  done, 
the  better  to  keep  the  rebels  in  opinion  that  they 
should  not  fight  that  day,  the  Lord  D'Aubigny 
marched  on  towards  them,  and  first  beat  some 
troops  of  them  from  Deptford-b ridge,  where  they 
fought  manfully;  but,  being  in  no  great  number, 
were  soon  driven  back,  and  fled  up  to  their  main 
army  upon  the  hill.  The  army  at  that  time, 
hearing  of  the  approach  of  the  king's  forces, 
were  putting  themselves  in  array,  not  without 
much  confusion.  But  neither  had  they  placed, 
upon  the  first  high  ground  towards  the  bridge, 
any  forces  to  second  the  troops  below,  that  kept 
the  bridge;  neither  had  they  brought  forwards 
their  main  battle,  which  stood  in  array  far  into 
the  heath,  near  to  the  ascent  of  the  hill.  So  that 
the  earl  with  his  forces  mounted  the  hill,  and  re 
covered  the  plain  without  resistance.  The  Lord 
D'Aubigny  charged  them  with  great  fury  ;  inso 
much  as  it  had  like,  by  accident,  to  have  brandled 

j  the  fortune  of  the  day :  for,  by  inconsiderate  for 
wardness  in  fighting  at  the  head  of  his  troops, 
he  was  taken  by  the  rebels,  but  immediately 

;  rescued  and  delivered.  The  rebels  maintained 
the  fight  for  a  small  time,  and  for  their  persons 
showed  no  want  of  courage ;  but  being  ill  armed, 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


363 


and  ill  led,  and  without  horse  or  artillery,  they  I  came  from  the  west  of  England  to  the  east,  with- 
were  with  no  great  difficulty  cut  in  pieces,  and  I  out  mischief  almost,  or  spoil  of  the  country,  did 
put  to  flight.  And  for  their  three  leaders,  the  |  somewhat  mollify  him,  and  move  him  to  compas- 
Loid  Audley,  the  blacksmith,  and  Flarnmock,  a,s  sion;  or  lastly,  that  he  made  a  great  difference 
commonly  the  captains  of  commotions  are  but  |  between  people  that  did  rebel  upon  wantonness, 
half-couraged  men,  suffered  themselves  to  be 
taken  alive.  The  number  slain  on  the  rebels' 
part  were  some  two  thousand  men;  their  army 
amounting,  as  it  is  said,  unto  the  number  of  six 
teen  thousand.  The  rest  were,  in  effect,  all 


taken ;  for  that  the  hill,  as  was  said,  was  encom 
passed  with  tiie  king's  forces  round  about.  On 
the  king's  part,  there  died  about  three  hundred, 
most  of  them  shot  with  arrows,  which  were  re 
ported  to  be  of  the  length  of  a  tailor's  yard ;  so 
strong  and  mighty  a  bow  the  Cornish  men  were 
said  to  draw. 

The  victory  thus  obtained,  the  king  created 
divers  bannerets,  as  well  upon  Blackheath,  where 
his  lieutenant  had  won  the  field,  whither  he  rode 
iu  person  to  perform  the  said  creation,  as  in  St. 
George's  Fields,  where  his  own  person  had  been 
encamped.  And  for  matter  of  liberality,  he  did, 
by  open  edict,  give  the  goods  of  all  the  prisoners 
unto  those  that  had  taken  them;  either  to  take 
them  in  kind,  or  compound  for  them  as  they 
could.  After  matter  of  honour  and  liberality, 
followed  matter  of  severity  and  execution.  The 
Lord  Audley  was  led  from  Newgate  to  Tower- 
Hill,  in  a  paper  coat  painted  with  his  own  arms  ; 
the  arms  reversed,  the  coat  torn,  and  at  Tower- 
Hill  beheaded.  Flammock  and  the  blacksmith 
were  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered  at  Tyburn ; 
the  blacksmith  taking  pleasure  upon  the  hurdle, 
as  it  seemeth  by  words  that  he  uttered,  to  think 
that  he  should  be  famous  in  after-times.  The 
king  was  once  in  mind  to  have  sent  down  Flam- 
mock  and  the  blacksmith  to  have  been  executed 
in  Cornwall,  for  the  more  terror;  but  being  ad 
vertised  that  the  country  was  yet  unquiet  and 
boiling,  he  thought  better  not  to  irritate  the 
people  further.  All  the  rest  were  pardoned  by 
proclamation,  and  to  take  out  their  pardons  under 
seal,  as  many  as  would.  So  that,  more  than  the 
blood  drawn  in  the  field,  the  king  did  satisfy 
himself  with  the  lives  of  only  three  offenders, 
for  the  expiation  of  this  great  rebellion. 

It  was  a  strange  thing  to  observe  the  variety 
and  inequality  of  the  king's  executions  and  par 
dons  ;  and  a  man  would  think  it,  at  the  first,  a 
kind  of  lottery  or  chance.  But,  looking  into  it 
more  nearly,  one  shall  find  there  was  reason  for 
it,  much  more,  perhaps,  than  after  so  long  a  dis 
tance  of  time  we  can  now  discern.  In  the  Kent 
ish  commotion,  which  was  but  a  handful  of  men, 
there  were  executed  to  the  number  of  one  hundred 


and  them  that  did  rebel  upon  want. 

After  the  Cornish  men  were  defeated,  there 
came  from  Calais  to  the  king  an  honourable  em- 
bassage  from  the  French  king,  which  had  arrived 
at  Calais  a  month  before,  and  there  was  stayed  in 
respect  of  the  troubles,  but  honourably  entertained 
and  defrayed.  The  king,  at  their  first  coming, 
sent  unto  them,  and  prayed  them  to  have  patience, 
till  a  little  smoke,  that  was  raised  in  his  country, 
were  over,  which  would  soon  be :  slighting,  as 
his  manner  was,  that  openly,  which  nevertheless 
he  intended  seriously. 

This  embassage  concerned  no  great  affair,  but 
only  the  prolongation  of  days  for  payment  of  mo 
neys,  and  some  other  particulars  of  the  frontiers. 
And  it  was,  indeed,  but  a  wooing  embassage, 
with  good  respects  to  entertain  the  king  in  good 
affection ;  but  nothing  was  done  or  handled  to  the 
derogation  of  the  king's  late  treaty  with  the 
Italians. 

But  during  the  time  that  the  Cornish  men  were 
in  their  march  towards  London,  the  King  of  Scot 
land,  well  advertised  of  all  that  passed,  and  know 
ing  himself  sure  of  a  war  from  England,  whenso 
ever  those  stirs  were  appeased,  neglected  not  his 
opportunity;  but  thinking  the  king  had  his  hands 
full,  entered  the  frontiers  of  England  again  with 
an  army,  and  besieged  the  castle  of  Norham  in 
person,  with  part  of  his  forces,  sending  the  rest  to 
forage  the  country.  But  Fox,  Bishop  of  Duresme, 
a  wise  man,  and  one  that  could  see  through  the 
present  to  the  future,  doubting  as  much  before, 
had  caused  his  castle  of  Norham  to  be  strongly 
fortified,  and  furnished  with  all  kind  of  munition; 
and  had  manned  it  likewise  with  a  very  great 
number  of  tall  soldiers,  more  than  for  the  propor 
tion  of  the  castle,  reckoning  rather  upon  a  sharp 
assault  than  a  long  siege.  And  for  the  country 
likewise,  he  had  caused  the  people  to  withdraw 
their  cattle  and  goods  into  fast  places,  that  were 
not  of  easy  approach  ;  and  sent  in  post  to  the 
Earl  of  Surrey,  who  was  not  far  off,  in  Yorkshire, 
to  come  in  diligence  to  the  succour.  So  as  the 
Scottish  king  both  failed  of  doing  good  upon  the 
castle,  and  his  men  had  but  a  catching  harvest  of 
their  spoils;  and  when  he  understood  that  the 
Earl  of  Surrey  was  coming  on  with  great  forces, 
he  returned  back  into  Scotland.  The  earl,  find 
ing  the  castle  freed,  and  the  enemy  retired,  pur 
sued  with  all  celerity  in  Scotland,  hoping  to  have 
overtaken  the  Scottish  king,  and  to  have  given 


and  fifty;  but  in  this,  so  mighty  a  rebellion,  but  him  battle ;  but,  not  attaining  him  in  time,  sat 
three.  Whether  it  were  that  the  king  put  to  ac-  down  before  the  castle  of  Ayton,  one  of  the  strong, 
count  the  men  that  were  slain  in  the  field,  or  that ;  est  places,  then  esteemed,  between  Berwick  and 
he  was  not  willing  to  be  severe  in  a  popular  cause,  i  Edinburgh,  which  in  a  small  time  he  took.  And 
or  that  the  harmless  behaviour  of  this  people,  that  [  soon  after,  the  Scottish  king  retiring  farther  into 


364 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


his  country,  and  the  weather  being  extraordinary 
foul  and  stormy,  the  earl  returned  into  England. 
So  that  the  expeditions  on  both  parts  were,  in  ef 
fect,  but  a  castle  taken,  and  a  castle  distressed ; 
not  answerable  to  the  puissance  of  the  forces,  nor 
to  the  heat  of  the  quarrel,  nor  to  the  greatness  of 
the  expectation. 

Amongst  these  troubles,  both  civil  and  exter 
nal,  came  into  England  from  Spain,  Peter  Hialas, 
some  call  him  Elias,  surely  he  was  the  forerunner 
of  the  good  hap  that  we  enjoy  at  this  day ;  for  his 
embassage  set  the  truce  between  England  and 
Scotland  ;  the  truce  drew  on  the  peace;  the  peace 
the  marriage ;  and  the  marriage  the  union  of  the 
kingdoms  ;  a  man  of  great  wisdom,  and,  as  those 
times  were,  not  unlearned  ;  sent  from  Ferdinando 
and  Isabella,  Kings  of  Spain,  unto  the  king,  to 
treat  a  marriage  between  Catharine,  their  second 
daughter,  and  Prince  Arthur.  This  treaty  was 
by  him  set  in  a  very  good  way,  and  almost  brought 
to  perfection.  But  it  so  fell  out  by  the  way,  that 
upon  some  conferences  which  he  had  with  the 
king  touching  this  business,  the  king,  who  had  a 
great  dexterity  in  getting  suddenly  into  the  bosom 
of  ambassadors  of  foreign  princes,  if  he  liked  the 
men  ;  insomuch  as  he  would  many  times  commu 
nicate  with  them  of  his  own  affairs,  yea,  and  em 
ploy  them  in  his  service,  fell  into  speech  and  dis 
course  incidently,  concerning  the  ending  of  the 
debates  and  differences  with  Scotland.  For  the 
king  naturally  did  not  love  the  barren  wars  with 
Scotland,  though  he  made  his  profit  of  the  noise 
of  them.  And  he  wanted  not  in  the  council  of 
Scotland,  those  that  would  advise  their  king  to 
meet  him  at  the  half  way,  and  to  give  over  the 
war  with  England ;  pretending  to  be  good  patriots, 
but  indeed  favouring  the  affairs  of  the  king.  Only 
his  heart  was  too  great  to  begin  with  Scotland 
for  the  motion  of  peace.  On  the  other  side,  he 
had  met  with  an  ally  of  Ferdinando  of  Arragon, 
as  fit  for  his  turn  as  could  be.  For  after  that 
King  Ferdinando  had,  upon  assured  confidence 
of  the  marriage  to  succeed,  taken  upon  him  the 
person  of  a  fraternal  ally  to  the  king,  he  wrould 
not  let,  in  a  Spanish  gravity,  to  counsel  the  king 
in  his  own  affairs.  And  the  king,  on  his  part,  not 
being  wanting  to  himself,  but  making  use  of  every 
man's  humours,  made  his  advantage  of  this  in 
such  things  as  he  thought  either  not  decent,  or 
not  pleasant  to  proceed  from  himself;  putting 
them  off  as  done  by  the  counsel  of  Ferdinando. 
Wherefore  he  was  content  that  Hialas,  as  in  a 
matter  moved  and  advised  from  Hialas  himself, 
should  go  into  Scotland,  to  treat  of  a  concord  be 
tween  the  two  kings.  Hialas  took  it  upon  him, 
and  coming  to  the  Scottish  king,  after  he  had  with 
much  art  brought  King  James  to  hearken  to  the 
more  safe  and  quiet  counsels,  wrote  unto  the  king, 
that  he  hoped  that  peace  would  with  no  great 
difficulty  cement  and  close,  if  he  would  send  some 
and  temperate  counsellor  of  his  own,  that 


might  treat  of  the  conditions.  Whereupon  the 
king  directed  Bishop  Fox,  who  at  that  time  was 
at  his  castle  of  Norham,  to  confer  with  Hialas 
and  they  both  to  treat  with  some  commissioners 
deputed  from  the  Scottish  king.  The  commission 
ers  on  both  sides  met.  But  after  much  dispute 
upon  the  articles  and  conditions  of  peace,  pro 
pounded  upon  either  part,  they  could  not  conclude 
a  peace.  The  chief  impediment  thereof  was  the 
demand  of  the  king  to  have  Perkin  delivered  into 
his  hands,  as  a  reproach  to  all  kings,  and  a  person 
not  protected  by  the  law  of  nations.  The  King 
of  Scotland,  on  the  other  side,  peremptorily  denied 
so  to  do,  saying,  that  he,  for  his  part,  was  no 
competent  judge  of  Perkin's  title  :  but  that  he  had 
received  him  as  a  suppliant,  protected  him  as  a 
person  fled  for  refuge,  espoused  him  with  his 
kinswoman,  and  aided  him  with  arms,  upon 
the  belief  that  he  was  a  prince;  and  therefore 
that  he  could  not  now  with  his  honour  so 
unrip,  and,  in  a  sort,  put  a  lie  upon  all  that  he 
had  said  and  done  before,  as  to  deliver  him  up  to 
his  enemies.  The  bishop,  likewise,  who  had  cer 
tain  proud  instructions  from  the  king,  at  the  least 
in  the  front,  though  there  were  a  pliant  clause  at. 
the  foot,  that  remitted  all  to  the  bishop's  discre 
tion,  and  required  him  by  no  means  to  break  off 
in  ill  terms,  after  that  he  had  failed  to  obtain  the 
delivery  of  Perkin,  did  move  a  second  point  of  his 
instructions,  which  was,  that  the  Scottish  king 
would  give  the  king  an  interview  in  person  at 
Newcastle.  But  this  being  reported  to  the  Scot 
tish  king,  his  answer  was,  that  he  meant  to  treat 
a  peace,  and  not  to  go  a  begging  for  it.  The 
bishop  also,  according  to  another  article  of  his  in 
structions,  demanded  restitution  of  the  spoils 
taken  by  the  Scottish,  or  damages  for  the  same. 
But  the  Scottish  commissioners  answered,  that 
that  was  but  as  water  spilt  upon  the  ground, 
which  could  not  be  gotten  up  again ;  and  that  the 
king's  people  were  better  able  to  bear  the  loss 
than  their  master  to  repair  it.  But  in  the  end,  as 
persons  capable  of  reason,  on  both  sides  they 
made  rather  a  kind  of  recess  than  a  breach  of 
treaty,  and  concluded  upon  a  truce  for  some 
months  following.  But  the  King  of  Scotland, 
though  he  would  not  formally  retract  his  judg 
ment  of  Perkin,  wherein  he  had  engaged  himself 
so  far;  jet  in  his  private  opinion,  upon  often 
speech  with  the  Englishmen,  and  divers  other  ad 
vertisements,  began  to  suspect  him  for  a  counter 
feit.  WTherefore  in  a  noble  fashion  he  called  him 
unto  him,  and  recounted  the  benefits  and  favours 
that  he  had  done  him  in  making  him  his  ally,  and 
in  provoking  a  mighty  and  opulent  king  by  an 
offensive  war  in  his  quarrel,  for  the  space  of  two 
years  together ;  nay  more,  that  he  had  refused  an 
honourable  peace,  whereof  he  had  a  fair  offer,  if 
he  would  have  delivered  him  ;  and  that,  to  keep 
his  promise  with  him,  he  had  deeply  offended 
both  his  nobles  and  people  whom  he  might  no^ 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


365 


hold  in  any  long  discontent;  and  therefore  requir 
ed  him  to  think  of  his  own  fortunes,  and  to  choose 
out  some  fitter  place  for  his  exile :  telling1  him 
withal,  that  he  could  not  say,  but  the  English  had 
forsaken  him  before  the  Scottish,  for  that,  upon 
two  several  trials,  none  had  declared  themselves 
on  his  side;  but  nevertheless  he  would  make 
good  what  he  said  to  him  at  his  first  receiving, 
which  was  that  he  should  not  repent  him  for  put 
ting  himself  into  his  hands;  for  that  he  would 
not  cast  him  off,  but  help  him  with  shipping  and 
means  to  transport  him  where  he  should  desire. 
Perkin,  not  descending  at  all  from  his  stagelike 
greatness,  answered  the  king  in  few  words,  that 
he  saw  his  time  was  not  yet  come ;  but  whatso 
ever  his  fortunes  were,  he  should  both  think  and 
speak  honour  of  the  king.  Taking  his  leave,  he 
would  not  think  on  Flanders,  doubting  it  was  but 
hollow  ground  for  him  since  the  treaty  of  the  arch 
duke,  concluded  the  year  before;  but  took  his 
lady,  and  such  followers  as  would  not  leave  him, 
and  sailed  over  into  Ireland. 

This  twelfth  year  of  the  king,  a  little  before  this 
time,  Pope  Alexander,  who  loved  best  those 
princes  that  were  furthest  off,  and  with  whom  he 
had  least  to  do,  taking  very  thankfully  the  king's 
late  entrance  into  league  for  the  defence  of  Italy, 
did  remunerate  him  with  a  hallowed  sword  and 
cap  of  maintenance,  sent  by  his  nuncio.  Pope 
Innocent  had  done  the  like,  but  it  was  not  received 
in  that  glory :  for  the  king  appointed  the  mayor 
'and  his  brethren  to  meet  the  pope's  orator  at  Lon 
don-bridge,  and  all  the  streets  between  the  bridge- 
foot  and  the  palace  of  Paul's,  where  the  king  then 
lay,  were  garnished  with  the  citizens,  standing 
in  their  liveries.  And  the  morrow  after,  being 
All-hallows-day,  the  king,  attended  with  many  of 
his  prelates,  nobles,  and  principal  courtiers,  went 
in  procession  to  Paul's,  and  the  cap  and  sword 
were  borne  before  him.  And  after  the  procession, 
the  king  himself  remaining  seated  in  the  quire, 
the  lord  archbishop,  upon  the  greece  of  the  quire, 
made  a  long  oration;  setting  forth  the  greatness 
and  eminency  of  that  honour  which  the  pope,  in 
these  ornaments  and  ensigns  of  benediction,  had 
done  the  king ;  and  how  rarely,  and  upon  what 
high  deserts  they  used  to  be  bestowed :  and  then 
recited  the  king's  principal  acts  and  merits,  which 
had  made  him  appear  worthy  in  the  eyes  of  his 
holiness  of  this  great  honour. 

All  this  while  the  rebellion  of  Cornwall,  where 
of  we  have  spoken,  seemed  to  have  no  relation  to 
Perkin  ;  save  that  perhaps  Perkin's  proclamation 
had  stricken  upon  the  right  vein,  in  promising  to 
lay  down  exactions  and  payments,  and  so  had 
made  them  now  and  then  have  a  kind  thought  on 
Perkin.  But  now  these  bubbles  by  much  stirring 
began  to  meet,  as  they  use  to  do  upon  the  top  of 
water.  The  king's  lenity,  by  that  time  the  Corn 
ish  rebels,  who  were  taken  and  pardoned,  and,  as 
it  was  said,  many  of  them  sold  by  them  that  had 


taken  them,  for  twelve  pence  and  two  shillings  a 
piece,  were  come  down  into  their  country,  had 
rather  emboldened  them  than  reclaimed  them; 
insomuch  as  they  stuck  not  to  say  to  their  neigh 
bours  and  countrymen,  that  the  king  did  well  to 
pardon  them,  for  that  he  knew  he  should  leave 
few  subjects  in  England,  if  he  hanged  all  that 
were  of  their  mind  ;  and  began  whetting  and  in 
citing  one  another  to  renew  the  commotion.  Some 
of  the  subtilest  of  them,  hearing  of  Perkin's  be 
ing  in  Ireland,  found  means  to  send  to  him  to  let 
him  know,  that  if  he  would  come  over  to  them 
they  would  serve  him. 

When  Perkin  heard  this  news,  he  began  to 
take  heart  again,  and  advised  upon  it  with  his 
council,  which  were  principally  three :  Herne,  a 
mercer,  that  had  fled  for  debt ;  Skelton,  a  tailor; 
and  Astley,  a  scrivener ;  for  Secretary  Frion  was 
gone.  These  told  him.  that  he  was  mightily  over 
seen,  both  when  he  went  into  Kent,  and  when  he 
went  into  Scotland;  the  one  being  a  place  so  near 
London,  and  under  the  king's  nose ;  and  the 
other  a  nation  so  distasted  with  the  people  of 
England,  that  if  they  had  loved  him  never  so  well, 
yet  they  would  never  have  taken  his  part  in  tha* 
company.  But  if  he  had  been  so  happy  as  to 
have  been  in  Cornwall  at  the  first,  when  the  peo 
ple  began  to  take  arms  there,  he  had  been  crown 
ed  at  Westminister  before  this  time.  For  these 
kings,  as  he  had  now  experience,  would  sell 
poor  princes  for  shoes.  But  he  must  rely  wholly 
upon  people ;  and  therefore  advised  him  to  sail 
over  with  all  possible  speed  into  Cornwall ; 
which  accordingly  he  did,  having  in  his  company 
four  small  barks,  with  some  sixscore  or  seven- 
score  fighting  men.  He  arrived  in  September  at 
Whitsand-Bay,  and  forthwith  came  to  Bodmin, 
the  blacksmith's  town;  where  there  assembled 
unto  him  to  the  number  of  three  thousand  men  of 
the  rude  people.  There  he  set  forth  a  new  pro 
clamation,  stroking  the  people  with  fair  promises, 
and  humouring  them  with  invectives  against  the 
king  and  his  government.  And  as  it  fareth  with 
smoke,  that  never  loseth  itself  till  it  be  at  the 
highest;  he  did  now  before  his  end  raise  his 
style,  entitling  himself  no  more  Richard,  Duke  of 
York,  but  Richard  the  Fourth,  King  of  England. 
His  council  advised  him  by  all  means  to  make 
himself  master  of  some  good  walled  town :  as 
well  to  make  his  men  find  the  sweetness  of  rich 
spoils,  and  to  allure  to  him  all  loose  and  lost  peo 
ple,  by  like  hopes  of  booty;  as  to  be  a  sure  re 
treat  to  his  forces,  in  case  they  should  have  any 
ill  day,  or  unlucky  chance  in  the  field.  Where 
fore  they  took  heart  to  them,  and  went  on,  and 
besieged  the  city  of  Exeter,  the  principal  town  for 
strength  and  wealth  in  those  parts. 

When  they  were  come  before  Exeter,  they  for- 
bare  to  use  any  force  at  the  first,  but  made  con 
tinual  shouts  and  outcries  to  terrify  the  inhabitants. 
They  did  likewise  in  divers  places  call  and  talk 


366 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


to  them  from  under  the  walls,  to  join  with  them, 
and  be  of  their  party;  telling  them,  that  the  king 
would  make  them  another  London,  if  they  would 
be  the  first  town  that  would  acknowledge  him. 
But  they  had  not  the  wit  to  send  to  them,  in  any 
orderly  fashion,  agents  or  chosen  men,  to  tempt 
them  and  to  treat  with  them.  The  citizens,  on 
their  part,  showed  themselves  stout  and  loyal 
subjects;  neither  was  there  so  much  as  any 
tumult  or  division  amongst  them,  but  all  prepared 
themselves  for  a  valiant  defence,  and  making 
good  the  town.  For  well  they  saw,  that  the 
rebels  were  of  no  such  number  or  power,  that  they 
needed  to  fear  them  as  yet;  and  well  they  hoped, 
that  before  their  numbers  increased,  the  king's 
succours  would  come  in.  And,  howsoever,  they 
thought  it  the  extremest  of  evils,  to  put  them 
selves  at  the  mercy  of  those  hungry  and  disorder 
ly  people.  Wherefore  setting  all  things  in  good 
order  within  the  town,  they  nevertheless  letdown 
with  cords,  from  several  parts  of  the  walls,  privi 
ly,  several  messengers,  that  if  one  came  to  mis 
chance,  another  might  pass  on,  which  should  ad 
vertise  the  king  of  the  state  of  the  town,  and  im 
plore  his  aid.  Perkinaiso  doubted,  that  succours 
would  come  ere  long;  and  therefore  resolved  to 
use  his  utmost  force  to  assault  the  town.  And 
for  that  purpose  having  mounted  scaling  ladders 
in  divers  places  upon  the  walls,  made  at  the  same 
instant  an  attempt  to  force  one  of  the  gates.  But 
having  no  artillery  nor  engines,  and  finding  that 
he  could  do  no  good  by  ramming  with  logs  of 
timber,  nor  by  the  use  of  iron  bars  and  iron  crows, 
and  such  other  means  at  hand,  he  had  no  way  left 
him  but  to  set  one  of  the  gates  on  fire,  which  he 
did.  But  the  citizens,  well  perceiving  the  danger, 
before  the  gate  could  be  fully  consumed,  blocked 
up  the  gate,  and  some  space  about  it  on  the  inside, 
with  fagots  and  other  fuel,  which  they  likewise 
set  on  fire,  and  so  repulsed  fire  with  fire ;  and  in 
the  mean  time  raised  up  rampiers  of  earth,  and 
cast  up  deep,  trenches,  to  serve  instead  of  wall 
and  gate.  And  for  the  scaladoes,  they  had  so  bad 
success,  as  the  rebels  were  driven  from  the  walls 
with  the  loss  of  two  hundred  men. 

The  king,  when  he  heard  of  Perkin's  siege  of 
Exeter,  made  sport  with  it,  and  said  to  them  that 
were  about  him,  that  the  king  of  rake-hells  was 
landed  in  the  west,  and  that  he  hoped  now  to  have 
the  honour  to  see  him,  which  he  could  never  yet 
do.  And  it  appeared  plainly  to  those  that  were 
about  the  king,  that  he  was  indeed  much  joyed 
with  the  news  of  Perkin's  being  in  English  ground, 
where  he  could  have  no  retreat  by  land ;  think 
ing  now  that  he  should  be  cured  of  those  privy 
stitches  which  he  had  had  long  about  his  heart, 
and  at  some  times  broken  his  sleeps,  in  the  midst 
of  all  his  felicity.  And  to  set  all  men's  hearts  on 
fire,  he  did  by  all  possible  means  let  it  appear, 
that  those  that  should  now  do  him  service  to  make 
an  end  of  these  troubles,  should  be  no  less  accept 


ed  of  him,  than  he  that  came  upon  the  eleventh, 
hour,  and  had  the  whole  wages  of  the  day.  There 
fore  now,  like  the  end  of  a  play,  a  great  number 
came  upon  the  stage  at  once.  He  sent  the  lord 
chamberlain,  and  the  Lord  Brook,  and  Sir  Rice 
ap  Thomas,  with  expedite  forces  to  speed  to  Exe 
ter,  to  the  rescue  of  the  town,  and  to  spread  the 
fame  of  his  own  following  in  person  with  a  royal 
army.  The  Earl  of  Devonshire,  and  his  son, 
with  the  Carews,  and  the  Fullfords,  and  other 
principal  persons  of  Devonshire,  uncalled  from  the 
court,  but  hearing  that  the  king's  heart  was  much 
bent  upon  this  service,  made  haste  with  troops 
that  they  had  raised,  to  be  the  first  that  should 
succour  the  city  of  Exeter,  and  prevent  the  king's 
succours.  The  Duke  of  Buckingham  likewise, 
with  many  brave  gentlemen,  put  themselves  in 
arms,  not  staying  either  the  king's  or  the  lord 
chamberlain's  coining  on,  but  making  a  body  of 
forces  of  themselves,  the  more  to  endear  their 
merit;  signifying  to  the  king  their  readiness,  and 
desiring  to  know  his  pleasure.  So  that  according 
to  the  proverb,  in  the  coming  down,  every  saint 
did  help. 

Perkin,  hearing  this  thunder  of  arms,  and  pre 
parations  against  him  from  so  many  parts,  raised 
his  siege,  and  marched  to  Taunton ;  beginning 
already  to  squint  one  eye  upon  the  crown,  and 
another  upon  the  sanctuary  ;  though  the  Cornish 
men  where  become  like  metal  often  fired  and 
quenched,  churlish,  and  that  would  sooner  break 
than  bow;  swearing  and  vowing  not  to  leave  him, 
till  the  uttermost  drop  of  their  blood  were  spilt. 
He  was  at  his  rising  from  Exeter,  between  six  and 
seven  thousand  strong,  many  having  come  unto 
him  after  he  was  set  before  Exeter,  upon  fame  of 
so  great  an  enterprise,  and  to  partake  of  the  spoil ; 
though  upon  the  raising  of  his  siege  some  did 
slip  away.  When  he  was  come  near  Taunton, 
he  dissembled  all  fear,  and  seemed  all  the  day  to 
use  diligence  in  preparing  all  things  ready  to 
fight.  But  about  midnight  he  fled  with  three 
score  horse  to  Bewdley  in  the  New  Forest,  where 
he  and  divers  of  his  company  registered  them 
selves  sanctuary  men,  leaving  his  Cornish  men 
to  the  four  winds;  but  yet  thereby  easing  them 
of  their  vow,  and  using  his  wonted  compassion, 
not  to  be  by  when  his  subjects'  blood  should  be 
spilt.  The  king,  as  soon  as  he  heard  of  Perkin's 
flight,  sent  presently  five  hundred  horse  to  pursue 
and  apprehend  him,  before  he  should  get  either  to 
the  sea,  or  to  that  same  little  island  called  a  sanc 
tuary.  But  they  came  too  late  for  the  latter  of 
these.  Therefore  all  they  could  do,  was  to  beset 
the  sanctuary,  and  to  maintain  a  strong  watch 
about  it,  till  the  king's  pleasure  were  further 
known.  As  for  the  rest  of  the  rebels,  they,  being 
destituted  of  their  head,  without  stroke  stricken, 
submitted  themselves  unto  the  king's  mercy. 
And  the  king,  who  commonly  drew  blood,  as 
physicians  do,  rather  to  save  life  than  to  spill  it, 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


367 


and  was  never  cruel  when  he  was  secure ;  now 
he  saw  the  danger  was  past,  pardoned  them  all 
in  the  end,  except  some  few  desperate  persons, 
which  he  reserved  to  be  executed,  the  better  to 
set  off'  his  mercy  towards  the  rest.  There  were 
also  sent  with  all  speed  some  horse  to  Saint 
Michael's  mount  in  Cornwall,  where  the  Lady 
Catharine  Gordon  was  left  by  her  husband,  whom 
in  all  fortunes  she  entirely  loved ;  adding  the 
virtues  of  a  wife  to  the  virtues  of  her  sex.  The 
king  sent  in  the  greater  diligence,  not  knowing 
whether  she  might  be  with  child,  whereby  the 
business  would  not  have  ended  in  Perkin's  per 
son.  When  she  was  brought  to  the  king,  it  was 
commonly  said,  that  the  king  received  her  not 
only  with  compassion,  but  with  affection  ;  pity 
giving  more  impression  to  her  excellent  beauty. 
Wherefore  comforting  her,  to  serve  as  well  his 
eye  as  his  fame,  he  sent  her  to  his  queen  to  remain 
with  her;  giving  her  very  honourable  allowance 
for  the  support  of  her  estate,  which  she  enjoyed 
both  during  the  king's  life,  and  many  years  after. 
The  name  of  the  white-rose,  which  had  been 
given  to  her  husband's  false  title,  was  continued 
in  common  speech  to  her  true  beauty. 

The  king  went  forwards  on  his  journey,  and 
made  a  joyful  entrance  into  Exeter,  where  he  gave 
the  citizens  great  commendations  and  thanks ; 
and  taking  the  sword  he  wore  from  his  side,  he 
gave  it  to  the  mayor,  and  commanded  it  should 
be  ever  after  carried  before  him.  There  also  he 
ciused  to  be  executed  some  of  the  ringleaders  of 
the  Cornish  men,  in  sacrifice  to  the  citizens  whom 
they  had  put  in  fear  and  trouble.  At  Exeter  the 
king  consulted  with  his  council,  whether  he 
should  offer  life  to  Perkin  if  he  would  quit  the 
sanctuary,  and  voluntarily  submit  himself.  The 
council  were  divided  in  opinion :  some  advised 
the  king  to  take  him  out  of  sanctuary  perforce,  and 
to  put  him  to  death,  as  in  a  case  of  necessity, 
which  in  itself  dispenseth  with  consecrated  places 
and  things :  wherein  they  doubted  not  also  but 
the  king  should  find  the  pope  tractable  to  ratify 
his  deed,  either  by  declaration,  or,  at  least,  by  in 
dulgence.  Others  were  of  opinion,  since  all  was 
now  safe,  and  no  further  hurt  could  be  done,  that 
it  was  not  worth  the  exposing  of  the  king  to  new 
scandal  and  envy.  A  third  sort  fell  upon  the 
opinion,  that  it  was  not  possible  for  the  king  ever, 
either  to  satisfy  the  world  well  touching  the  im 
posture,  or  to  learn  out  the  bottom  of  the  conspi 
racy,  except  by  promise  of  life  and  pardon,  and 
other  fair  means,  he  should  get  Perkin  into  his 
hands.  But  they  did  all  in  their  preambles  much 
bemoan  the  king's  case,  with  a  kind  of  indigna 
tion  at  his  fortunes ;  that  a  prince  of  his  high 
wisdom  and  virtue  should  have  been  so  long  and 
so  oft  exercised  and  vexed  with  idols.  But  the 
king  said,  that  it  was  the  vexation  of  God  Al 
mighty  himself  to  be  vexed  with  idols,  and  there- 
tore  tli at  that  was  not  to  trouble  any  of  his  friends ; 


and  that  for  himself,  he  always  despised  them ; 
but 'was  grieved  that  they  had  put  his  people  to 
such  trouble  and  misery.  But  in  conclusion,  he 
leaned  to  the  third  opinion,  and  so  sent  some  to 
deal  with  Perkin,  who  seeing  himself  prisoner, 
and  destitute  of  all  hopes,  having  tried  princes 
and  people,  great  and  small,  and  found  all  either 
false,  faint,  or  unfortunate,  did  gladly  accept  of 
the  condition.  The  king  did  also,  while  he  was 
at  Exeter,  appoint  the  Lord  Darcy,  and  others 
commissioners,  for  the  fining  of  all  such  as  were 
of  any  value,  and  had  any  hand  or  partaking  in 
the  aid  or  comfort  of  Perkin,  or  the  Cornish  men, 
either  in  the  field  or  in  the  flight. 

These  commissioners  proceeded  with  such 
strictness  and  severity  as  did  much  obscure  the 
king's  mercy  in  sparing  of  blood,  with  the  bleed 
ing  of  so  much  treasure.  Perkin  was  brought 
unto  the  king's  court,  but  not  to  the  king's  pre 
sence  ;  though  the  king,  to  satisfy  his  curiosity, 
saw  him  sometimes  out  of  a  window,  or  in  pas 
sage.  He  was  in  show  at  liberty,  but  guarded 
with  all  care  and  watch  that  was  possible,  and 
willed  to  follow  the  king  to  London.  But  from 
his  first  appearance  upon  the  stage,  in  his  new 
person  of  a  sycophant,  or  juggler,  instead  of  his 
former  person  of  a  prince,  all  men  may  think 
how  he  was  exposed  to  the  derision  not  only  of 
the  courtiers,  but  also  of  the  common  people, 
who  flocked  about  him  as  he  went  along:  that 
one  might  know  afar  off"  where  the  owl  was  by 
the  flight  of  birds  ;  some  mocking,  some  wonder 
ing,  some  cursing,  some  prying  and  picking  mat 
ter  out  of  his  countenance  and  gesture  to  talk  of: 
so  that  the  false  honour  and  respects  which  he 
had  so  long  enjoyed,  was  plentifully  repaid  in 
scorn  and  contempt.  As  soon  as  he  was  come 
to  London,  the  king  gave  also  the  city  the  solace 
of  this  May-game ;  for  he  was  conveyed  leisurely 
on  horseback,  but  not  in  any  ignominious  fashion, 
through  Cheapside  and  Cornhill,  to  the  Tower, 
and  from  thence  back  again  to  Westminster,  with 
the  churm  of  a  thousand  taunts  and  reproaches. 
But  to  amend  the  show,  there  followed  a  little 
distance  off  Perkin,  an  inward  counsellor  of  his, 
one  that  had  been  sergeant-farrier  to  the  king. 
This  fellow,  when  Perkin  took  sanctuary,  chose 
rather  to  take  a  holy  habit  than  a  holy  place, 
and  clad  himself  like  a  hermit,  and  in  that  weed 
wandered  about  the  country,  till  he  was  discovered 
and  taken.  But  this  man  was  bound  hand  and 
foot  upon  the  horse,  and  came  not  back  with 
Perkin,  but  was  left  at  the  Tower,  and  within 
few  days  after  executed.  Soon  after,  now  that 
j  Perkin  could  tell  better  what  himself  was,  he 
I  was  diligently  examined ;  and  after  his  confession 
;  taken,  an  extract  was  made  of  such  parts  of  them 
i  as  were  thought  fit  to  be  divulged,  which  was 
|  printed  arid  dispersed  abroad  ;  wherein  the  king 
\  did  himself  no  right ;  for  as  there  was  a  laboured 
tale  of  particulars,  of  Perkin's  father  and  mother, 


368 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


and  grandsire  and  grandmother,  and  uncles  and 
cousins,  by  names  and  sirnames,  and  from  what 
places  he  travelled  up  and  down ;  so  there  was 
little  or  nothing  to  purpose  of  any  thing  concern 
ing  his  designs,  or  any  practices  that  had  been 
held  with  him;  nor  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy 
herself,  that  all  the  world  did  take  knowledge  of, 
as  the  person  that  had  put  life  and  being  into  the 
whole  business,  so  much  as  named  or  pointed  at. 
So  that  men  missing  of  that  they  looked  for, 
looked  about  for  they  knew  not  what,  and  were 
in  more  doubt  than  before;  but  the  king  chose 
rather  not  to  satisfy  than  to  kindle  coals.  At 
that  time  also  it  did  not  appear  by  any  new  ex 
amination  or  commitments,  that  any  other  person 
of  quality  was  discovered  or  appeached,  though 
the  king's  closeness  made  that  a  doubt  dormant. 
About  this  time,  a  great  fire  in  the  night  time 
suddenly  began  at  the  king's  palace  of  Sheen, 
near  unto  the  king's  own  lodgings,  whereby  a 
great  part  of  the  building  was  consumed,  with 
much  costly  household-stuff;  which  gave  the 
king  occasion  of  building  from  the  ground  that 
fine  pile  of  Richmond  which  is  now  standing. 

Somewhat  before  this  time  also,  there  fell  out 
a  memorable  accident :  there  was  one  Sebastian 
Gabato,  a  Venetian,  dwelling  in  Bristol,  a  man 
seen  and  expert  in  cosmography  and  navigation. 
This  man  seeing  the  success,  and  emulating  per 
haps  the  enterprise  of  Christopher  Columbus  in 
that  fortunate  discovery  towards  the  south-west, 
which  had  been  by  him  made  some  six  years  be 
fore,  conceited  with  himself,  that  lands  might 
likewise  be  discovered  towards  the  north-west. 
And  surely  it  may  be  he  had  more  firm  and  preg 
nant  conjectures  of  it,  than  Columbus  had  of  this 
at  the  first.  For  the  two  great  islands  of  the  old 
and  new  world,  being,  in  the  shape  and  making 
of  them,  broad  towards  the  north,  and  pointed 
towards  the  south;  it  is  likely,  that  the  dis 
covery  first  began  where  the  lands  did  near 
est  meet.  And  there  had  been  before  that 
time  a  discovery  of  some  lands,  which  they 
took  to  be  islands,  and  were  indeed  the  continent 
of  America,  towards  the  north-west.  And  it 
may  be  that  some  relation  of  this  nature  coming 
afterwards  to  the  knowledge  of  Columbus,  and 
by  him  suppressed,  (desirous  rather  to  make  his 
enterprise  the  child  of  his  science  and  fortune, 
than  the  follower  of  a  former  discovery,)  did  give 
him  better  assurance,  that  all  was  not  sea,  from 
the  west  of  Europe  and  Africa  unto  Asia,  than 
either  Seneca's  prophecy  or  Plato's  antiquities, 
or  the  nature  of  the  tides  and  land-winds,  and 
the  like,  which  were  the  conjectures  that  were 
given  out,  whereupon  he  should  have  relied: 
though  I  am  not  ignorant,  that  it  was  likewise 
laid  unto  the  casual  and  wind-beaten  discovery, 
a  little  before,  of  a  Spanish  pilot,  who  died  in 
the  house  of  Columbus.  But  this  Gabato  bear 
ing  the  king  in  hand,  that  he  would  find  out  an 


island  endued  with  rich  commodities,  procured 
him  to  man  and  victual  a  ship  at  Bristol,  for  the 
discovery  of  that  island ;  with  whom  ventured 
also  three  small  ships  of  London  merchants, 
fraught  with  some  gross  and  slight  wares,  fit  for 
commerce  with  barbarous  people.  He  sailed,  as 
he  affirmed  at  his  return,  and  made  a  card  thereof, 
very  far  westwards,  with  a  quarter  of  the  north, 
on  the  north  side  of  Terra  de  Labrador,  until  he 
came  to  the  latitude  of  sixty-seven  degrees  and 
an  half,  finding  the  seas  still  open.  It  is  certain 
also,  that  the  king's  fortune  had  a  tender  of  that 
great  empire  of  the  West  Indies.  Neither  was 
it  a  refusal  on  the  king's  part,  but  a  delay  by 
accident,  that  put  by  so  great  an  acquest:  for 
Christopherus  Columbus,  refused  by  the  King  of 
Portugal,  who  would  not  embrace  at  once  both 
east  and  west,  employed  his  brother  Bartholomeus 
Columbus  unto  King  Henry,  to  negotiate  for  his 
discovery :  and  it  so  fortuned,  that  he  was  taken 
by  pirates  at  sea,  by  which  accidental  impediment 
he  was  long  ere  he  came  to  the  king:  so  long, 
that  before  he  had  obtained  a  capitulation  with 
the  king  for  his  brother,  the  enterprise  by  him 
was  achieved,  and  so  the  West  Indies  by  provi 
dence  were  then  reserved  for  the  crown  of  Cas 
tile.  Yet  this  sharpened  the  king  so,  that  not 
only  in  this  voyage,  but  again  in  the  sixteenth 
year  of  his  reign,  and  likewise  in  the  eighteenth 
thereof,  he  granted  forth  new  commissions  for  the 
discovery  and  investing  of  unknown  lands. 

In  this  fourteenth  year  also,  by  God's  wonder 
ful  providence,  that  boweth  things  unto  his  will, 
and  hangeth  great  weights  upon  small  wires, 
there  fell  out  a  trifling  and  untoward  accident, 
that  drew  on  great  and  happy  effects.  During 
the  truce  with  Scotland,  there  were  certain 
Scottish  young  gentlemen  that  came  into  Norham 
town,  and  there  made  merry  with  some  of  the 
English  of  the  town ;  and  having  little  to  do, 
went  sometimes  forth,  and  would  stand  looking 
upon  the  castle.  Some  of  the  garrison  of  the 
castle,  observing  this  their  doing  twice  or  thrice, 
and  having  not  their  minds  purged  of  the  late  ill 
blood  of  hostility,  either  suspected  them,  or 
quarrelled  them  for  spies:  whereupon  they  fell 
at  ill  words,  and  from  words  to  blows;  so 
that  many  were  wounded  of  either  side,  and  the 
Scottish  men,  being  strangers  in  the  town,  had 
the  worst;  insomuch  as  some  of  them  were  slain, 
and  the  rest  made  haste  home.  The  matter  being 
complained  on,  and  often  debated  before  the  war 
dens  of  the  marches  of  both  sides,  and  no  good 
order  taken :  the  King  of  Scotland  took  it  to 
himself,  and  being  much  kindled,  sent  a  herald 
to  the  king  to  make  protestation,  that  if  repara 
tion  were  not  done,  according  to  the  conditions 
of  the  truce,  his  king  did  denounce  war.  The 
king,  who  had  often  tried  fortune,  and  was  in 
clined  to  peace,  made  answer,  that  what  had 
been  done,  was  utterly  against  his  will,  and 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


369 


without  his  privity ;  but  if  the  garrison  soldiers 
had  been  in  fault,  he  would  see  them  punished, 
and  the  truce  in  all  points  to  be  preserved.  But 
this  answer  seemed  to  the  Scottish  king  but  a 
delay,  to  make  the  complaint  breathe  out  with 
time ;  and  therefore  it  did  rather  exasperate  him 
than  satisfy  him.  Bishop  Fox,  understanding  from 
the  king,  that  the  Scottish  king  was  still  discontent 
and  impatient,  being  troubled  that  the  occasion 
of  breaking  of  the  truce  should  grow  from  his 
men,  sent  many  humble  and  deprecatory  letters 
to  the  Scottish  king  to  appease  him.  Whereupon 
King  James,  mollified  by  the  bishop's  submis 
sive  and  eloquent  letters,  wrote  back  unto  him, 
that  though  he  were  in  part  moved  by  his  letters, 
yet  he  should  not  be  fully  satisfied,  except  he 
spake  with  him,  as  well  about  the  compounding 
of  the  present  differences,  as  about  other  matters 
that  might  concern  the  good  of  both  kingdoms. 
The  bishop,  advising  first  with  the  king,  took 
his  journey  for  Scotland.  The  meeting  was  at 
Melross,  an  abbey  of  the  Cistercians,  where  the 
king  then  abode.  The  king  first  roundly  uttered 
unto  the  bishop  his  offence  conceived  for  the 
insolent  breach  of  truce,  by  his  men  of  Norham 
castle ;  whereunto  Bishop  Fox  made  such  humble 
and  smooth  answer,  as  it  was  like  oil  into  the 
wound,  whereby  it  began  to  heal :  and  this  was 
done  in  the  presence  of  the  king  and  his  council. 
After,  the  king  spake  with  the  bishop  apart,  and 
opened  himself  unto  him,  saying,  that  these  tem 
porary  truces  and  peaces  were  soon  made,  and 
soon  broken,  but  that  he  desired  a  straiter  amity 
with  the  King  of  England ;  discovering  his  mind, 
that  if  the  king  would  give  him  in  marriage  the 
Lady  Margaret,  his  eldest  daughter,  that  indeed 
might  be  a  knot  indissoluble.  That  he  knew 
well  what  place  and  authority  the  bishop  de 
servedly  had  with  his  master :  therefore,  if  he 
would  take  the  business  to  heart,  and  deal  in  it 
effectually,  he  doubted  not  but  it  would  succeed 
well.  The  bishop  answered  soberly,  that  he 
thought  himself  rather  happy  than  worthy  to  be 
an  instrument  in  such  a  matter,  but  would  do  his 
best  endeavour.  Wherefore  the  bishop  returning 
to  the  king,  and  giving  account  what  had  passed, 
and  finding  the  king  more  than  well  disposed  in 
it,  gave  the  king  advice;  first  to  proceed  to  a 
conclusion  of  peace,  and  then  to  go  on  with  the 
treaty  of  marriage  by  degrees.  Hereupon  a 
peace  was  concluded,  which  was  published  a 
little  before  Christmas,  in  the  fourteenth  year  of 
the  king's  reign,  to  continue  for  both  the  king's 
lives,  and  the  over-liver  of  them,  and  a  year  after. 
In  this  peace  there  was  an  article  contained,  that 
no  Englishman  should  enter  into  Scotland,  and  no 
Scotchman  into  England,  without  letters  com 
mendatory  from  the  kings  of  either  nation.  This 
at  the  first  sight  might  seem  a  means  to  continue 
a  strangeness  between  the  nations;  but  it  was 
done  to  lock  in  the  borderers. 
VOL.  I.— 47 


This  year  there  was  also  born  to  the  king  a 
third  son,  who  was  christened  by  the  name  of 
Edmund,  and  shortly  after  died.  And  much  about 
the  same  time  came  news  of  the  death  of  Charles 
the  French  king,  for  whom  there  were  celebrated 
solemn  and  princely  obsequies. 

It  was  not  long  but  Perkin,  who  was  made  of 
quicksilver,  which  is  hard  to  hold  or  imprison,  be 
gan  to  stir.  For,  deceiving  his  keepers,  he  took 
him  to  his  heels,  and  made  speed  to  the  sea-coast. 
But  presently  all  corners  were  laid  for  him,  and 
such  diligent  pursuit  and  search  made,  as  he  was 
fain  to  turn  back,  and  get  him  to  the  house  of 
Bethlehem,  called  the  priory  of  Sheen  (which  had 
the  privilege  of  sanctuary)  and  put  himself  into 
the  hands  of  the  prior  of  that  monastery.  The 
prior  was  thought  a  holy  man,  and  much  reve 
renced  in  those  days.  He  came  to  the  king,  and 
besought  the  king  for  Perkin's  life  only,  leaving 
him  otherwise  to  the  king's  discretion.  Many 
about  the  king  were  again  more  hot  than  ever,  to 
have  the  king  to  take  him  forth  and  hang  him. 
But  the  king,  that  had  a  high  stomach,  arid  could 
not  hate  any  that  he  despised,  bid,  "  Take  him 
forth,  and  set  the  knave  in  the  stocks ;"  and  so 
promising  the  prior  his  life,  he  caused  him  to  be 
brought  forth.  And  within  two  or  three  days 
after,  upon  a  scaffold  set  up  in  the  palace  court  at 
Westminster,  he  was  fettered  and  set  in  the  stocks 
for  the  whole  day.  And  the  next  day  after,  the 
like  was  done  by  him  at  the  cross  in  Cheapside, 
and  in  both  places  he  read  his  confession,  of  which 
we  made  mention  before ;  and  was  from  Cheap- 
side  conveyed  and  laid  up  in  the  Tower.  Not 
withstanding  all  this,  the  king  was,  as  was  partly 
touched  before,  grown  to  be  such  a  partner  with 
fortune,  as  nobody  could  tell  what  actions  the 
one,  and  what  the  other  owned.  For  it  was  be 
lieved,  generally,  that  Perkin  was  betrayed,  and 
that  this  escape  was  not  without  the  king's  privity, 
who  had  him  all  the  time  of  his  flight  in  a  line ; 
and  that  the  king  did  this  to  pick  a  quarrel  to  him 
to  put  him  to  death,  and  to  be  rid  of  him  at  once: 
but  this  is  not  probable.  For  that  the  same  in 
struments  who  observed  him  in  his  flight,  might 
have  kept  him  from  getting  into  sanctuary. 

But  it  was  ordained,  that  this  winding-ivy  of  a 
Plantagenet  should  kill  the  true  tree  itselfi  For 
Perkin,  after  he  had  been  a  while  in  the  Tower, 
began  to  insinuate  himself  into  the  favour  and 
kindness  of  his  keepers,  servants  to  the  lieutenant 
of  the  Tower,  Sir  John  Digby,  being  four  in 
number;  Strangeways,  Blewet,  Astwood,  and 
Long  Roger.  These  varlets,  with  mountains  of 
promises,  he  sought  to  corrupt,  to  obtain  his 
escape ;  but  knowing  vrell,  that  his  own  fortunes 
were  made  so  contemptible,  as  he  could  feed  no 
man's  hopes,  and  by  hopes  he  must  work,  for  re 
wards  he  had  none,  he  had  contrived  with  him 
self  a  vast  and  tragical  plot ;  which  was,  to  draw 
into  his  company  Edward  Plantagenet,  Earl  of 


370 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


Warwick,  then  prisoner  in  the  Tower ;  whom  the 
weary  life  of  a  long1  imprisonment,  and  the  often 
and  renewing  fears  of  being  put  to  death,  had 
softened  to  take  any  impression  of  counsel  for  his 
liberty.  This  young  prince  he  thought  the  servants 
would  look  upon,  though  not  upon  himself:  and 
therefore,  after  that  by  some  message  by  one  or 
two  of  them,  he  had  tasted  of  the  earl's  consent; 
it  was  agreed  that  these  four  should  murder  their 
master  the  lieutenant,  secretly,  in  the  night,  and 
make  their  best  of  such  money  and  portable  goods 
of  his,  as  they  should  find  ready  at  hand,  and  get 
the  keys  of  the  Tower,  and  presently  let  forth 
Perkin  and  the  earl.  But  this  conspiracy  was  re 
vealed  in  time,  before  it  could  be  executed.  And 
in  this  again  the  opinion  of  the  king's  great  wis 
dom  did  surcharge  him  with  a  sinister  fame,  that 
Perkin  was  but  his  bait  to  entrap  the  Earl  of 
Warwick.  And  in  the  very  instant  while  this 
conspiracy  was  in  working,  as  if  that  also  had 
been  the  king's  industry,  it  was  fatal,  that  there 
should  break  forth  a  counterfeit  Earl  of  Warwick, 
a  cordwainer's  son,  whose  name  was  Ralph  Wil- 
ford ;  a  young  man  taught  and  set  on  by  an  Au- 
gustin  friar,  called  Patrick.  They  both  from 
the  parts  of  Suffolk  came  forwards  into  Kent, 
where  they  did  not  only  privily  and  underhand 
give  out  that  this  Wilford  was  the  true  Earl  of 
Warwick,  but  also  the  friar,  finding  some  light 
credence  in  the  people,  took  the  boldness  in  the 
pulpit  to  declare  as  much,  and  to  incite  the  people 
to  come  in  to  his  aid.  Whereupon  they  were 
both  presently  apprehended,  and  the  young  fellow 
executed,  and  the  friar  condemned  to  perpetual 
imprisonment.  This  also  happening  so  oppor 
tunely,  to  represent  the  danger  to  the  king's  estate 
from  the  f/arl  of  Warwick,  and  thereby  to  colour 
the  king's  severity  that  followed;  together  with 
the  madness  of  the  friar  so  vainly  and  desperately 
to  divulge  a  treason,  before  it  had  gotten  any  man 
ner  of  strength  ;  and  the  saving  of  the  friar's  life, 
which  nevertheless  was,  indeed,  but  the  privilege 
of  his  order ;  and  the  pity  in  the  common  people, 
which,  if  it  run  in  a  strong  stream,  doth  ever  cast 
up  scandal  and  envy,  made  it  generally  rather 
talked  than  believed  that  all  was  but  the  king's 
device.  But  howsoever  it  were  hereupon,  Perkin, 
that  had  offended  against  grace  now  the  third 
time,  was  at  the  last  proceeded  with,  and,  by 
commissioners  of  oyer  and  determiner,  arraigned 
at  Westminster,  upon  divers  treasons  committed 
and  perpetrated  after  his  coming  on  land,  within 
this  kingdom,  for  so  the  judges  advised,  for  that 
he  was  a  foreigner,  and  condemned,  and  a  few 
days  after  executed  at  Tyburn;  where  he  did 
again  openly  read  his  confession,  and  take  it  upon 
his  death  to  be  true.  This  was  the  end  of  this 
little  cockatrice  of  a  king,  that  was  able  to  destroy 
those  that  did  not  espy  him  first.  It  was  one  of 
the  longest  plays  of  that  kind  that  hath  been  in 
memory,  and  might  perhaps  have  had  another 


end,  if  he  had  not  met  with  a  king  both  wise, 
stout,  and  fortunate. 

As  for  Perkin's  three  counsellors,  they  had  re 
gistered  themselves  sanctuary-men  when  their 
master  did ;  and  whether  upon  pardon  obtained, 
or  continuance  within  the  privilege,  they  came 
not  to  be  proceeded  with. 

There  were  executed  with  Perkin,  the  Mayor 
of  Cork  and  his  son,  who  had  been  principal  abet 
tors  of  his  treasons.  And  soon  after  were  likewise 
condemned  eight  other  persons  about  the  Tower 
conspiracy,  whereof  four  were  the  lieutenant's 
men  :  but  of  those  eight  but  two  were  executed. 
And  immediately  after  was  arraigned  before  the 
Earl  of  Oxford,  then  for  the  time  high  steward  of 
England,  the  poor  prince,  the  Earl  of  Warwick  ; 
not  for  the  attempt  to  escape  simply,  for  that  was 
not  acted,  and  besides,  the  imprisonment  not  be 
ing  for  treason,  the  escape  by  law  could  not  be 
treason,  but  for  conspiring  with  Perkin  to  raise 
sedition,  and  to  destroy  the  king :  and  the  earl 
confessing  the  indictment,  had  judgment,  and 
was  shortly  after  beheaded  on  Tower-hill. 

This  was  also  the  end,  not  only  of  this  noble 
and  commiserable  person,  Edward,  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  eldest  son  to  the  Duke  of  Clarence; 
but  likewise  of  the  line  male  of  the  Plantagenets, 
which  had  flourished  in  great  royalty  and  renown, 
from  the  time  of  the  famous  King  of  England, 
King  Henry  the  Second.  Howbeit  it  was  a  race 
often  dipped  in  their  own  blood.  It  hath  remain 
ed  since  only  transplanted  into  other  names,  as 
well  of  the  imperial  line,  as  of  other  noble  houses 
But  it  was  neither  guilt  of  crime,  nor  reason  of 
state,  that  could  quench  the  envy  that  was  upon 
the  king  for  this  execution:  so  that  he  thought 
good  to  export  it  out  of  the  land,  and  to  lay  it  upon 
his  new  alley,  Ferdinando,  King  of  Spain.  For 
these  two  kings  understanding  one  another  at  half 
a  word,  so  it  was  that  there  were  letters  showed 
out  of  Spain,  whereby  in  the  passage  concerning 
the  treaty  of  the  marriage,  Ferdinando  had  written 
to  the  king  in  plain  terms,  that  he  saw  no  assu 
rance  of  his  succession  as  long  as  the  Earl  of 
Warwick  lived,  and  that  he  was  loath  to  send  his 
daughter  to  troubles  and  dangers.  But  hereby, 
as  the  king  did  in  some  part  remove  the  envy 
from  himself;  so  he  did  not  observe,  that  he  did 
withal  bring  a  kind  of  malediction  and  infausting 
upon  the  marriage,  as  an  ill  prognostic  :  which 
in  event  so  far  proved  true,  as  both  Prince  Arthur 
enjoyed  a  very  small  time  after  the  marriage,  and 
the  Lady  Catharine  herself,  a  sad  and  a  religious 
woman,  long  after,  when  King  Henry  the  Eighth's 
resolution  of  a  divorce  from  her  was  first  made 
known  to  her,  used  some  words,  that  she  had  not 
offended,  but  it  was  a  judgment  of  God,  for  that 
her  former  marriage  was  made  in  blood;  meaning 
that  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick. 

The  fifteenth  year  of  the  king,  there  was  a  great 
plague  both  in  London  and  in  divers  parts  of  the 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


371 


kingdom.  Wherefore  the  king,  after  often  change 
of  places,  whether  to  avoid  the  danger  of  the  sick 
ness,  or  to  give  occasion  of  an  interview  with  the 
archduke,  or  both,  sailed  over  with  his  queen  to 
Calais.  Upon  his  coming  hither,  the  archduke 
sent  an  honourable  embassage  unto  him,  as  well 
to  welcome  him  into  those  parts,  as  to  let  him 
know,  that  if  it  pleased  him,  he  would  come  and 
do  him  reverence.  But  it  was  said  withal,  that 
the  king  might  be  pleased  to  appoint  some  place, 
that  were  out  of  any  walled  town  or  fortress,  for 
that  he  had  denied  the  same  upon  like  occasion 
to  the  French  king :  and  though  he  said,  he  made 
a  great  difference  between  the  two  kings,  yet  he 
would  be  loath  to  give  a  precedent,  that  might 
make  it  after  to  be  expected  at  his  hands,  by  an 
other  whom  he  trusted  less.  The  king  accepted 
of  the  courtesy,  and  admitted  of  his  excuse,  and 
appointed  the  place  to  be  at  Saint  Peter's  church 
without  Calais.  But  withal  he  did  visit  the  arch 
duke  with  ambassadors  sent  from  himself,  which 
were  the  Lord  St.  John,  and  the  secretary ;  unto 
whom  the  archduke  did  the  honour,  as,  going  to 
mass  at  Saint  Omer's,  to  set  the  Lord  St.  John 
on  his  right  hand,  and  the  secretary  on  his  left, 
and  so  to  ride  between  them  to  church.  The  day 
appointed  for  the  interview  the  king  went  on 
horseback  some  distance  from  Saint  Peter's  church, 
to  receive  the  archduke:  and  upon  their  approach 
ing,  the  archduke  made  haste  to  light,  and  offered 
to  hold  the  king's  stirrup  at  his  alighting;  which 
the  king  would  not  permit,  but  descending  from 
horseback,  they  embraced  with  great  affection ;  and 
withdrawing  into  the  church  to  a  place  prepared, 
they  had  long  conference,  not  only  upon  the  con 
firmation  of  former  treaties,  and  the  freeing  of  com 
merce,  but  upon  cross  marriages,  to  be  had  be 
tween  the  Duke  of  York,  the  king's  second  son, 
and  the  archduke's  daughter;  and  again  between 
Charles,  the  archduke's  son  and  heir,  and  Mary, 
the  king's  second  daughter.  But  these  blossoms 
of  unripe  marriages  were  but  friendly  wishes,  and 
the  airs  of  loving  entertainment;  though  one  of 
them  came  afterwards  to  conclusion  in  treaty, 
though  not  in  effect.  But  during  the  time  that 
the  two  princes  conversed  and  communed  toge 
ther  in  the  suburbs  of  Calais,  the  demonstrations 
on  both  sides  were  passing  hearty  and  affection 
ate,  especially  on  the  part  of  the  archduke ;  who, 
besides  that  he  was  a  prince  of  an  excellent  good 
nature,  being  conscious  to  himself  how  dryly  the 
king  had  been  used  by  his  council  in  the  matter 
of  Perkin,  did  strive  by  all  means  to  recover  it 
in  the  king's  affection.  And  having  also  his  ears 
continually  beaten  with  the  counsels  of  his  father 
and  father-in-law,  who,  in  respect  of  their  jealous 
hatred  against  the  French  king,  did  always  ad 
vise  the  archduke  to  anchor  himself  upon  the 
amity  of  King  Henry  of  England ;  was  glad  upon 
this  occasion  to  put  in  ure  and  practice  their  pre 
cepts,  calling  the  king  patron,  and  father,  and 


protector,  (these  very  words  the  king  repeats, 
when  he  certified  of  the  loving  behaviour  of  the 
archduke  to  the  city,)  and  what  else  he  could  de 
vise,  to  express  his  love  and  observance  to  the 
king.  There  came  also  to  the  king,  the  governor 
of  Picardy,  and  the  bailiff  of  Amiens,  sent  from 
Lewis  the  French  king  to  do  him  honour,  and  to 
give  him  knowledge  of  his  victory,  and  winning 
of  the  Duchy  of  Milan.  It  seemeth  the  king  was 
well  pleased  with  the  honours  he  received  from 
those  parts,  while  he  was  at  Calais,  for  he  did 
himself  certify  all  the  news  and  occurrents  of  them 
in  every  particular,  from  Calais,  to  the  mayor 
and  aldermen  of  London,  which,  no  doubt,  made 
no  small  talk  in  the  city.  For  the  king,  though 
he  could  not  entertain  the  good-will  of  the  citi 
zens,  as  Edward  the  Fourth  did,  yet  by  affability 
and  other  princely  graces  did  ever  make  very 
much  of  them,  and  apply  himself  to  them. 

This  year  also  died  John  Morton,  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  Chancellor  of  England,  and  car 
dinal.  He  was  a  wise  man,  and  an  eloquent, 
but  in  his  nature,  harsh  and  haughty ;  much  ac 
cepted  by  the  king,  but  envied  by  the  nobility, 
and  hated  of  the  people.  Neither  was  his  name 
left  out  of  Perkin's  proclamation  for  any  good 
will,  but  they  would  not  bring  him  in  amongst 
the  king's  casting  counters,  because  he  had  the 
image  and  superscription  upon  him  of  the  pope, 
in  his  honour  of  cardinal.  He  won  the  king 
with  secrecy  and  diligence,  but  chiefly  because 
he  was  his  old  servant  in  his  less  fortunes :  and 
also  for  that,  in  his  affections,  he  was  not  without 
an  inveterate  malice  against  the  house  of  York, 
under  whom  he  had  been  in  trouble.  He  was 
willing  also  to  take  envy  from  the  king,  more 
than  the  king  was  willing  to  put  upon  him :  for 
the  king  cared  not  for  subterfuges,  but  would 
stand  envy,  and  appear  in  any  thing  that  was  to 
his  mind  ;  which  made  envy  still  grow  upon  him 
more  universal,  but  less  daring.  But  in  the  mat 
ter  of  exactions,  time  did  after  show,  that  the 
bishop,  in  feeding  the  king's  humour,  did  rather 
temper  it.  He  had  been  by  Richard  the  Third 
committed,  as  in  custody,  to  the  Duke  of  Buck 
ingham,  whom  he  did  secretly  incite  to  revolt 
from  King  Richard.  But  after  the  duke  was  en 
gaged,  and  thought  the  bishop  should  have  been 
his  chief  pilot  in  the  tempest,  the  bishop  wras 
gotten  into  the  cock-boat,  and  fled  over  beyond 
seas.  But  whatsoever  else  was  in  the  man,  he  de- 
serveth  a  most  happy  memory,  in  that  he  was  the 
principal  mean  of  joining  the  two  roses.  He  died 
of  great  years,  but  of  strong  health  and  powers. 

The  next  year,  which  was  the  sixteenth  year 
of  the  king,  and  the  year  of  our  Lord,  one  thou 
sand  five  hundred,  was  the  year  of  jubilee  at 
Rome.  But  Pope  Alexander,  to  save  the  hazard 
and  charges  of  men's  journeys  to  Rome,  thought 
good  to  make  over  those  graces  by  exchange,  to 
such  as  would  pay  a  convenient  rate,  seeing  they 


372 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


could  not  come  to  fetch  them.  For  which  pur 
pose  was  sent  into  England,  Jasper  Pons,  a 
Spaniard,  the  pope's  commissioner,  better  chosen 
than  were  the  commissioners  of  Pope  Leo,  after 
wards  employed  for  Germany ;  for  he  carried  the 
business  with  great  wisdom,  and  semblance  of 
holiness:  insomuch  as  he  levied  great  sums  of 
money  within  this  land  to  the  pope's  use,  with 
little  or  no  scandal.  It  was  thought  the  king 
shared  in  the  money ;  but  it  appeareth  by  a  letter 
which  Cardinal  Adrian,  the  king's  pensioner, 
wrote  to  the  king  from  Rome  some  few  years 
after,  that  this  was  not  so.  For  this  cardinal, 
being  to  persuade  Pope  Julius,  on  the  king's 
behalf,  to  expedite  the  bull  of  dispensation  for 
the  marriage  between  Prince  Henry  and  the 
Lady  Catharine,  finding  the  pope  difficile  in 
granting  thereof,  doth  use  it  as  a  principal  argu 
ment  concerning  the  king's  merit  towards  that 
see,  that  he  had  touched  none  of  those  deniers 
which  had  been  levied  by  Pons  in  England. 
But  that  it  might  the  better  appear,  for  the  satis 
faction  of  the  common  people,  that  this  was  con 
secrated  money,  the  same  nuncio  brought  unto 
the  king  a  brief  from  the  pope,  wherein  the  king 
was  exhorted  and  summoned  to  come  in  person 
against  the  Turk :  for  that  the  pope,  out  of  the 
care  of  a  universal  father,  seeing  almost  under 
his  eyes  the  successes  and  progresses  of  that 
great  enemy  of  the  faith,  had  had  in  the  con 
clave,  and  with  the  assistance  of  the  ambassa 
dors  of  foreign  princes,  divers  consultations 
about  a  holy  war,  and  a  general  expedition  of 
Christian  princes  against  the  Turk:  wherein  it 
was  agreed  and  thought  fit,  that  the  Hungarians, 
Polonians,  and  Bohemians,  should  make  a  war 
upon  Thracia;  the  French  and  Spaniards  upon 
Grescia;  and  that  the  pope,  willing  to  sacrifice 
himself  in  so  good  a  cause,  in  person,  and  in 
company  of  the  King  of  England,  the  Venetians, 
and  such  other  states  as  were  great  in  maritime 
power,  would  sail  with  a  puissant  navy  through 
the  Mediterranean  unto  Constantinople.  And 
that  to  this  end,  his  holiness  had  sent  nuncios  to 
all  Christian  princes,  as  well  for  a  cessation  of 
all  quarrels  and  differences  amongst  themselves, 
as  for  speedy  preparations  and  contributions  of 
forces  and  treasure  for  this  sacred  enterprise. 

To  this  the  king,  who  understood  well  the 
court  of  Rome,  made  an  answer  rather  solemn 
than  serious :  signifying, 

"That  no  prince  on  earth  should  be  more  for 
ward  and  obedient,  both  by  his  person,  and  by  all 
his  possible  forces  and  fortunes,  to  enter  into  this 
sacred  war,  than  himself.  But  that  the  distance 
of  place  was  such,  as  no  forces  that  he  should 
raise  for  the  seas,  could  be  levied  or  prepared  but 
with  double  the  charge,  and  double  the  time, 
at  the  least,  that  they  might  be  from  the  other 
princes,  that  had  their  territories  nearer  adjoinino-. 
Besides,  that  neither  the  manner  of  his  ships, 


having  no  galleys,  nor  the  experience  of  his 
pilots  and  mariners,  could  be  so  apt  for  those 
seas  as  theirs.  And  therefore,  that  his  holiness 
might  do  well  to  move  one  of  those  other  kings, 
who  lay  fitter  for  the  purpose,  to  accompany  him 
by  sea.  Whereby  both  all  things  would  be  no 
sooner  put  in  readiness,  and  with  less  charge, 
and  the  emulation  and  division  of  command, 
which  might  grow  between  those  kings  of 
France  and  Spain,  if  they  should  both  join  in 
the  war  by  land  upon  Grsecia,  might  be  wisely 
avoided ;  and  that  for  his  part  he  would  not  be 
wanting  in  aids  and  contribution.  Yet,  notwith 
standing,  if  both  these  kings  should  refuse, 
rather  than  his  holiness  should  go  alone,  he 
would  wait  upon  him  as  soon  as  he  could  be 
ready :  always  provided,  that  he  might  first  see 
all  differences  of  the  Christian  princes  amongst 
themselves  fully  laid  down  and  appeased,  as  for 
his  own  part,  he  was  in  none,  and  that  he  might 
have  some  good  towns  upon  the  coast  in  Italy 
put  into  his  hands,  for  the  retreat  and  safeguard 
of  his  men." 

With  this  answer  Jasper  Pons  returned,  nothing 
at  all  discontented :  and  yet  this  declaration  of 
the  king,  as  superficial  as  it  was,  gave  him  that 
reputation  abroad,  as  he  was  not  long  after  elected 
by  the  Knights  of  Rhodes  the  protector  of  their 
order :  all  things  multiplying  to  honour  in  a 
prince,  that  had  gotten  such  high  estimation  for 
his  wisdom  and  sufficiency. 

There  were  these  last  two  years  some  proceed 
ings  against  heretics,  which  was  rare  in  this 
king's  reign,  and  rather  by  penances,  than  by 
fire.  The  king  had,  though  he  were  no  good 
schoolman,  the  honour  to  convert  one  of  them  by 
dispute,  at  Canterbury. 

This  year  also,  though  the  king  were  no  more 
haunted  with  sprites,  for  that  by  the  sprinkling, 
partly  of  blood,  and  partly  of  water,  he  had 
chased  them  away ;  yet  nevertheless,  he  had  cer 
tain  apparitions  that  troubled  him,  still  showing 
themselves  from  one  region,  which  was  the  house 
of  York.  It  came  so  to  pass,  that  the  Earl  of 
Suffolk,  son  to  Elizabeth,  eldest  sister  to  King 
Edward  the  Fourth,  by  John,  Duke  of  Suffolk, 
her  second  husband,  and  brother  to  John,  Earl  of 
Lincoln,  that  was  slain  at  Stokefield,  being  of  a 
hasty  and  choleric  disposition,  had  killed  a  man 
in  his  fury;  whereupon  the  king  gave  him  his 
pardon.  But,  either  willing  to  leave  a  cloud 
upon  him,  or  the  better  to  make  him  feel  his 
grace,  produced  him  openly  to  plead  his  pardon. 
This  wrought  in  the  earl,  as  in  a  haughty  stomach 
it  useth  to  do ;  for  the  ignominy  printed  deeper 
than  the  grace.  Wherefore  he  being  discontent, 
fled  secretly  into  Flanders,  unto  his  aunt,  the 
Duchess  of  Burgundy.  The  king  startled  at  it, 
but,  being  taught  by  troubles  to  use  fair  and 
timely  remedies,  wrought  so  with  him  by  mes 
sages,  the  Lady  Margaret  also  growing,  by  often 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


373 


failing  in  her  alchymy,  weary  of  her  experiments ; 
and  partly  being-  a  little  sweetened,  for  that  the 
king  had  not  touched  her  name  in  the  confession 
of  Perkin,  that  he  came  over  again  upon  good 
terms,  and  was  reconciled  to  the  king. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  next  year,  being  the 
seventeenth  of  the  king,  the  Lady  Catharine, 
fourth  daughter  of  Ferdinando  and  Isabella,  King 
and  Queen  of  Spain,  arrived  in  England  at  Ply 
mouth,  the  second  of  October,  and  was  married 
to  Prince  Arthur,  in  Paul's,  the  fourteenth  of 
November  following:  the  prince  being  then 
about  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  the  lady  about 
eighteen.  The  manner  of  her  receiving,  the 
manner  of  her  entry  into  London,  and  the  cele 
brity  of  the  marriage,  were  performed  with  great 
and  true  magnificence,  in  regard  of  cost,  show, 
and  order.  The  chief  man  that  took  the  care 
was  Bishop  Fox,  who  was  not  only  a  grave 
counsellor  for  war  or  peace,  but  also  a  good 
surveyor  of  works,  and  a  good  master  of  cere 
monies,  and  any  thing  else  that  was  fit  for  the 
active  part,  belonging  to  the  service  of  court  or 
state  of  a  great  king.  This  marriage  was  .almost 
seven  years  in  treaty,  which  was  in  part  caused 
by  the  tender  years  of  the  marriage-couple,  especi 
ally  of  the  prince :  but  the  true  reason  was,  that 
these  two  princes,  being  princes  of  great  policy 
and  profound  judgment,  stood  a  great  time  look 
ing  one  upon  another's  fortunes,  how  they  would 
go;  knowing  well,  that  in  the  mean  time  the 
very  treaty  itself  gave  abroad  in  the  world  a 
reputation  of  a  strait  conjunction  and  amity  be 
tween  them,  which  served  on  both  sides  to  many 
purposes,  that  their  several  affairs  required,  and 
yet  they  continued  still  free.  But  in  the  end, 
when  the  fortunes  of  both  the  princes  did  grow 
every  day  more  and  more  prosperous  and  assured, 
and  that  looking  all  about  them,  they  saw  no 
better  conditions,  they  shut  it  up. 

The  marriage  money  the  princess  brought, 
which  was  turned  over  to  the  king  by  act  of 
renunciation,  was  two  hundred  thousand  ducats ; 
whereof  one  hundred  thousand  were  payable  ten 
days  after  the  solemnization,  and  the  other  hun 
dred  thousand  at  two  payments  annual ;  but  part 
of  it  to  be  in  jewels  and  plate,  and  a  due  course 
set  down  to  have  them  justly  and  indifferently 
prized .  The  jointure  or  advancement  of  the  lady, 
was  the  third  part  of  the  Principality  of  Wales, 
and  of  the  Dukedorn  of  Cornwall,  and  of  the 
Earldom  of  Chester,  to  be  after  set  forth  in 
severally ;  and  in  case  she  came  to  be  Queen  of 
England,  her  advancement  was  left  indefinite, 
but  thus;  that  it  should  be  as  great  as  ever  any 
former  Queen  of  England  had.  In  all  the  devices 
and  conceits  of  the  triumphs  of  this  marriage, 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  astronomy;  the  lady 
being  resembled  to  Hesperus,  and  the  prince  to 
Arcturus,  and  the  old  King  Alphonsus,  that  was 
the  greatest  astronomer  of  kings,  and  was  an- 


!  cestor  to  the  lady,  was  brought  in,  to  be  the  for 
tune-teller  of  the  match.  And  wrhosoever  had 
those  toys  in  compiling,  they  were  not  altogether 
pedantical;  but  you  may  be  sure,  that  King 
Arthur,  the  Briton,  and  the  descent  of  the  Lady 
Catharine  from  the  house  of  Lancaster,  was  in 
nowise  forgotten.  But  as  it  should  seem,  it  is 
not  good  to  fetch  fortunes  from  the  stars  ;^br  this 
young  prince,  that  drew  upon  him  at  that  time, 
not  only  the  hopes  and  affections  of  his  country, 
but  the  eyes  and  expectation  of  foreigners,  after 
a  few  months,  in  the  beginning  of  April,  deceased 
at  Ludlow  castle,  where  he  was  sent  to  keep  his 
resiance  and  court,  as  Prince  of  Wales.  Of  this 
prince,  in  respect  he  died  so  young,  and  by  reason 
of  his  father's  manner  of  education,  that  did  cast 
no  great  lustre  upon  his  children,  there  is  little 
particular  memory :  only  thus  much  remaineth, 
that  he  was  very  studious  and  learned,  beyond 
his  years,  and  beyond  the  custom  of  great  princes. 
There  was  a  doubt  ripped  up  in  the  times 
following,  when  the  divorce  of  King  Henry  the 
Eighth  from  the  Lady  Catharine  did  so  much 
busy  the  world,  whether  Arthur  was  bedded 
with  his  lady  or  no,  whereby  that  matter  in  fact, 
of  carnal  knowledge,  might  be  made  part  of  the 
case.  And  it  is  true,  that  the  lady  herself  denied 
it,  or  at  least  her  counsel  stood  upon  it,  and  would 
not  blanch  that  advantage,  although  the  plenitude 
of  the  pope's  power  of  dispensing  wras  the  main 
question.  And  this  doubt  was  kept  long  open, 
in  respect  of  the  two  queens  that  succeeded, 
Mary  and  Elizabeth,  whose  legitimations  were 
incompatible  one  with  another,  though  their  suc 
cession  was  settled  by  act  of  parliament.  And 
the  times  that  favoured  Queen  Mary's  legitima 
tion  would  have  it  believed,  that  there  was  no 
carnal  knowledge  between  Arthur  and  Catharine. 
Not  that  they  would  seem  to  derogate  from  the 
pope's  absolute  power,  to  dispense  even  in  that 
case :  but  only  in  point  of  honour,  and  to  make 
the  case  more  favourable  and  smooth.  And  the 
times  that  favoured  Queen  Elizabeth's  legitima 
tion,  which  were  the  longer  and  the  latter,  main 
tained  the  contrary.  So  much  there  remaineth 
in  memory,  that  it  was  half  a  year's  time  between 
the  creation  of  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  and 
Prince  Arthur's  death,  which  was  construed  to 
be,  for  to  expect  a  full  time,  whereby  it  might 
appear,  whether  the  Lady  Catharine  were  with 
child  by  Prince  Arthur,  or  no.  Again,  the  lady 
herself  procured  a  bull,  for  the  better  corrobora- 
tion  of  the  marriage,  with  a  clause  of  "  vel  forsan 
cognitam,"  which  was  not  in  the  first  bull. 
There  was  given  in  evidence  also,  when  the 
cause  of  the  divorce  was  handled,  a  pleasant 
passage,  which  was,  that  in  a  morning,  Prince 
Arthur,  upon  his  uprising  from  bed  with  her, 
called  for  drink,  which  he  was  not  accustomed  to 
do,  and  finding  the  gentlemen  of  his  chamber 
that  brought  him  the  drink,  to  smile  at  it,  and  to 
21 


374 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


note  it,  he  said  merrily  to  him,  that  he  had  been 
in  the  midst  of  Spain,  which  was  a  hot  region, 
and  his  journey  had  made  him  dry ;  and  that  if 
the  other  had  been  in  so  hot  a  clime,  he  would 
have  been  drier  than  he.  Besides  the  prince  was 
upon  the  point  of  sixteen  years  of  age  when  he 
died,  and  forward,  and  able  in  body. 

The  February  following,  Henry,  Duke  of  York 
was  created  Prince  of  Wales,  and  Earl  of  Chester 
and  Flint :  for  the  Dukedom  of  Cornwall  devolv 
ed  to  him  by  statute.  The  king  also  being  fast- 
handed,  and  loath  to  part  with  a  second  dowry, 
but  chiefly  being  affectionate  both  by  his  nature, 
and  out  of  politic  considerations  to  continue  the 
alliance  with  Spain,  prevailed  with  the  prince, 
though  not  without  some  reluctation,  such  as  could 
be  in  those  years,  for  he  was  not  twelve  years  of 
age,  to  be  contracted  with  the  Princess  Catharine. 
The  secret  providence  of  God  ordaining  that  mar 
riage  to  be  the  occasion  of  great  events  and 
changes. 

The  same  year  were  the  espousals  of  James, 
King  of  Scotland,  with  the  Lady  Margaret,  the 
king's  eldest  daughter ;  which  was  done  by 
proxy,  and  published  at  Paul's  cross,  the  five  and 
twentieth  of  January,  and  Te  Deum  solemnly 
sung.  But  certain  it  is,  that  the  joy  of  the  city 
thereupon  showed,  by  ringing  of  bells  and  bon 
fires,  and  such  other  incense  of  the  people,  was 
more  than  could  be  expected,  in  a  case  of  so  great 
and  fresh  enmity  between  the  nations,  especially 
in  London,  which  was  far  enough  off  from  feeling 
any  of  the  former  calamities  of  the  war;  and  there 
fore  might  be  truly  attributed  to  a  secret  instinct 
and  inspiring,  which  many  times  runneth  not  only 
in  the  hearts  of  princes,  but  in  the  pulse  and  veins 
of  people,  touching  the  happiness  thereby  to  ensue 
in  time  to  come.  This  marriage  was  in  August 
following,  consummate  at  Edinburgh  :  the  king 
bringing  his  daughter  as  far  as  Colliweston  on 
the  way,  and  then  consigning  her  to  the  attendance 
of  the  Earl  of  Northumberland;  who,  with  a 
great  troop  of  lords  and  ladies  of  honour,  brought 
her  into  Scotland,  to  the  king  her  husband. 

This  marriage  had  been  in  treaty  by  the  space 
of  almost  three  years,  from  the  time  that  the  king 
of  Scotland  did  first  open  his  mind  to  Bishop  Fox. 
The  sum  given  in  marriage  by  the  king  was  ten 
thousand  pounds  :  and  the  jointure  and  advance 
ment  assured  by  the  King  of  Scotland  was  two 
thousand  pounds  a  year,  after  King  James's  death, 
and  one  thousand  pounds  a  year  in  present,  for 
the  lady's  allowance  or  maintenance.  This  to  be 
set  forth  in  lands,  of  the  best  and  most  certain 
revenue.  During  the  treaty,  it  is  reported,  that 
the  king  remitted  the  matter  to  his  council ;  and 
that  some  of  the  table,  in  the  freedom  of  counsel 
lors,  the  king  being  present,  did  put  the  case, 
that  if  God  should  take  the  king's  two  sons  with 
out  issue,  that  then  the  kingdom  of  England 
would  fall  to  the  King  of  Scotland,  which  might 


prejudice  the  monarchy  of  England.  Whereunto 
the  king  himself  replied ;  that  if  that  should  be, 
Scotland  would  be  but  an  accession  to  England, 
and  not  England  to  Scotland,  for  that  the  greater 
would  draw  the  less ;  and  that  it  was  a  safer 
union  for  England  than  that  of  France.  This 
passed  as  an  oracle,  and  silenced  those  that  moved 
the  question. 

The  same  year  was  fatal,  as  well  for  deaths  as 
marriages,  and  that  with  equal  temper.  For  the 
joys  and  feasts  of  the  two  marriages  were  com- 
pensed  with  the  mournings  and  funerals  of  Prince 
Arthur,  of  whom  we  have  spoken,  and  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  who  died  in  child-bed  in  the  Tower, 
and  the  child  lived  not  long  after.  There  died 
also  that  year,  Sir  Reginald  Bray,  who  was  noted 
to  have  had  with  the  king  the  greatest  freedom 
of  any  counsellor  :  but  it  was  but  a  freedom  the 
better  to  set  off  flattery.  Yet  he  bare  more  than 
his  just  part  of  envy  for  the  exactions. 

At  this  time  the  king's  estate  was  very  pros 
perous  :  secured  by  the  amity  of  Scotland, 
strengthened  by  that  of  Spain,  cherished  by  that 
of  Burgundy,  all  domestic  troubles  quenched,  and 
all  noise  of  war,  like  a  thunder  afar  off,  going 
upon  Italy.  Wherefore  nature,  which  many 
times  is  happily  contained  and  refrained  by  some 
bands  of  fortune,  began  to  take  place  in  the  king; 
carrying,  as  with  a  strong  tide,  his  affections  and 
thoughts  unto  the  gathering  and  heaping  up  of 
treasure.  And  as  kings  do  more  easily  find  in 
struments  for  their  will  and  humour,  than  for 
their  service  and  honour ;  he  had  gotten  for  his 
purpose,  or  beyond  his  purpose,  two  instruments, 
Empson  and  Dudley,  whom  the  people  esteemed 
as  his  horse-leeches  and  shearers,  bold  men  and 
careless  of  fame,  and  that  took  toll  of  their  master's 
grist.  Dudley  was  of  a  good  family,  eloquent, 
and  one  that  could  put  hateful  business  into  good 
language.  But  Empson,  that  was  the  son  of  a 
sieve-maker,  triumphed  always  upon  the  deed 
done,  putting  off  all  other  respects  whatsoever. 
These  two  persons  being  lawyers  in  science,  and 
privy  counsellors  in  authority,  as  the  corruption 
of  the  best  things  is  the  worst,  turned  law  and 
justice  into  wormwood  and  rapine.  For  the  first, 
their  manner  was  to  cause  divers  subjects  to  be 
indicted  of  sundry  crimes,  and  so  far  forth  to  pro 
ceed  in  form  of  law:  but  when  the  bills  were 
found,  then  presently  to  commit  them  :  and  never 
theless  not  to  produce  them  in  any  reasonable 
time  to  their  answer,  but  to  suffer  them  to  languish 
long  in  prison,  and  by  sundry  artificial  devices 
and  terrors  to  extort  from  them  great  fines  and 
ransom,  which  they  termed  compositions  and 
mitigations. 

Neither  did  they,  towards  the  end,  observe  so 
much  as  the  half-face  of  justice,  in  proceeding  by 
indictment;  but  sent  forth  their  precepts  to  attach 
men  and  convent  them  before  themselves,  and{ 
some  others,  at  their  private  houses,  in  a  court  of 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


375 


commission;  and  there  used  to  shuffle  up  a  sum 
mary  proceeding  by  examination,  without  trial  of 
jury  ;  assuming  to  themselves  there  to  deal  both 
in  pleas  of  the  crown,  and  controversies  civil. 

Then  did  they  also  use  to  enthral  and  charge 
the  subjects' lands  with  tenures  "in  capite,"  by 
finding  false  offices,  and  thereby  to  work  upon 
them  for  wardships,  liveries,  premier  seisins,  and 
alienations,  being  the  fruits  of  those  tenures,  re 
fusing,  upon  divers  pretexts  and  delays,  to  admit 
men  to  traverse  those  false  offices,  according  to 
the  law.  Nay,  the  king's  wards,  after  they  had 
accomplished  their  full  age,  could  not  be  suffered 
to  have  livery  of  their  lands,  without  paying  ex 
cessive  fines,  far  exceeding  all  reasonable  rates. 
They  did  also  vex  men  with  informations  of  in 
trusion,  upon  scarce  colourable  titles. 

When  men  were  outlawed  in  personal  actions, 
they  would  not  permit  them  to  purchase  their 
charters  of  pardon,  except  they  paid  great  and 
intolerable  sums ;  standing  upon  the  strict  point 
of  law,  which  upon  outlawries  giveth  forfeiture 
of  goods;  nay,  contrary  to  all  law  and  colour, 
they  maintained  the  king  ought  to  have  the  half 
of  men's  lands  and  rents,  during  the  space  of  full 
two  years,  for  a  pain  in  case  of  outlawry.  They 
would  also  ruffle  with  jurors,  and  enforce  them  to 
find  as  they  would  direct,  and,  if  they  did  not, 
convent  them,  imprison  them,  and  fine  them. 

These  and  many  other  courses,  fitter  to  be  bu 
ried  than  repeated,  they  had  of  preying  upon  the 
people ;  both  like  tame  hawks  for  their  master, 
and  like  wild  hawks  for  themselves  ;  insomuch 
as  they  grew  to  great  riches  and  substance :  but 
their  principal  working  was  upon  penal  laws, 
wherein  they  spared  none,  great  nor  small ;  nor 
considered  whether  the  law  were  possible  or  im 
possible,  in  use  or  obsolete  :  but  raked  over  all 
old  and  new  statutes,  though  many  of  them  were 
made  with  intention  rather  of  terror  than  of  rigour, 
having  ever  a  rable  of  promoters,  questmongers, 
and  leading  jurors  at  their  command,  so  as  they 
could  have  any  thing  found  either  for  fact  or  valua 
tion. 

There  remaineth  to  this  day  a  report,  that  the 
king  was  on  a  time  entertained  by  the  Earl  of  Ox 
ford,  that  was  his  principal  servant  both  for  war 
and  peace,  nobly  and  sumptuously,  at  his  castle 
at  Henningham  :  And  at  the  king's  going  away, 
the  earl's  servants  stood,  in  a  seemly  manner,  in 
their  livery  coats,  with  cognisances,  ranged  on 
both  sides,  and  made  the  king  a  lane.  The  king 
called  the  earl  to  him,  and  said,  "  My  lord,  I  have 
heard  much  of  your  hospitality,  but  I  see  it  is 
greater  than  the  speech:  These  handsome  gentle 
men  and  yeomen,  which  I  see  on  both  sides  of 
me,  are  sure  your  menial  servants."  The  earl 
smiled,  and  said,  "  It  may  please  your  grace,  that 
were  not  for  mine  ease :  they  are  most  of  them  my 
retainers,  that  are  come  to  do  me  service  at  such 
a  time  as  this,  and  chiefly  to  see  your  grace." 


The  king  started  a  little,  and  said,  »  By  rny  faith, 
my  lord,  I  thank  you  for  my  good  cheer,  but  I 
may  not  endure  to  have  my  laws  broken  in  my 
sight :  my  attorney  must  speak  with  you."  And 
it  is  part  of  the  report,  that  the  earl  compounded 
for  no  less  than  fifteen  thousand  marks.  And  to 
show  further  the  king's  extreme  diligence,  I  do  re 
member  to  have  seen  long  since  a  book  of  accompt 
of  Empson's,  that  had  the  king's  hand  almost  to 
every  leaf,  by  way  of  signing,  and  was  in  some 
places  postilled  in  the  margin  with  the  king's 
hand  likewise,  where  wras  this  remembrance. 

"Item,  Received  of  such  a  one  five  marks,  for 
a  pardon  to  be  procured  ;  and  if  the  pardon 
do  not  pass,  the  money  to  be  repaid  :  except 
the  party  be  some  other  ways  satisfied." 

Arid  over-against  this  "Memorandum,"  of  the 
king's  own  hand, 

"  Otherwise  satisfied." 

Which  I  do  the  rather  mention,  because  it  shows 
in  the  king  a  nearness,  but  yet  with  a  kind  of 
justness.  So  these  little  sands  and  grains  of  gold 
and  silver,  as  it  seemeth,  helped  not  a  little  to 
make  up  the  great  heap  and  bank. 

But  meanwhile,  to  keep  the  king  awake,  the 
Earl  of  Suffolk,  having  been  too  gay  at  Prince 
Arthur's  marriage,  and  sunk  himself  deep  in  debt, 
had  yet  once  more  a  mind  to  be  a  knight-errant, 
and  to  seek  adventures  in  foreign  parts  ;  and  tak 
ing  his  brother  with  him,  fled  again  into  Flanders. 
That,  no  doubt,  which  gave  him  confidence,  was 
the  great  murmur  of  the  people  against  the  king's 
government :  and  being  a  man  of  a  light  and  rash 
spirit,  he  thought  every  vapour  would  be  a  tempest. 
Neither  wanted  he  some  party  within  the  king 
dom  :  for  the  murmur  of  people  awakes  the  dis 
contents  of  nobles ;  and  again,  that  calleth  up 
commonly  some  head  of  sedition.     The  king  re 
sorting  to  his  wonted  and  tried  arts,  caused  Sir 
Robert  Curson,  captain  of  the  castle  at  Hammes, 
being  at  that  time  beyond  sea,  and  therefore  less 
likely  to  be  wrought  upon  by  the  king,  to  fly  from 
his  charge,  and  to  feign  himself  a  servant  of  the 
earl's.     This  knight,  having  insinuated  himself 
into  the  secrets  of  the  earl,  and  finding  by  him 
upon  whom  chiefly  he  had  either  hope  or  hold, 
advertised  the  king  thereof  in  great  secrecy :  but 
levertheless  maintained  his  own  credit  and  in 
ward  trust  with  the  earl.     Upon  whose  advertise 
ment  the  king  attached  William  Courtney,  Earl 
of  Devonshire,  his  brother-in-law,  married  to  the 
Lady  Catharine,  daughter  to  King  Edward  the 
Fourth  ;  William  de  la  Pole,  brother  to  the  Earl 
of  Suffolk  ;  Sir  James  Tirrel,  and  Sir  John  Wind- 
ham,  and  some  other  meaner  persons,  and  com 
mitted  them  to  custody.     George  Lord  Abergaven- 
ny,  and  Sir  Thomas  Green,  were  at  the  same  time 
apprehended :  but  as  upon  less  suspicion,  so  in 
a  freer  restraint,  and  were  soon  after  delivered 


376 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


The  Earl  of  Devonshire  being  interested  in  the 
blood  of  York,  that  was  rather  feared  than  nocent ; 
yet  as  one  that  might  be  the  object  of  others  plots 
and  designs,  remained  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  dur 
ing  the  king's  life.  William  de  la  Pole  was  also 
long  restrained,  though  not  so  straitly.  But  for 
Sir  James  Tirrel,  against  whom  the  blood  of  the 
innocent  princes,  Ed  ward  the  Fifth,  and  his  brother, 
did  still  "  cry  from  under  the  altar,"  and  Sir  John 
Windham,  and  the  other  meaner  ones,  they  were 
attainted  and  executed  ;  the  two  knights  beheaded. 
Nevertheless,  to  confirm  the  credit  of  Curson, 
who  belike  had  not  yet  done  all  his  feats  of  activi 
ty,  there  was  published  at  Paul's  cross,  about  the 
time  of  the  said  executions,  the  pope's  bull  of  ex 
communication  and  curse  against  the  Earl  of  Suf 
folk  and  Sir  Robert  Curson,  and  some  others  by 
name ;  and  likewise  in  general  against  all  the 
abettors  of  the  said  earl :  wherein  it  must  be  con 
fessed,  that  heaven  was  made  too  much  to  bow  to 
earth,  and  religion  to  policy.  But  soon  after, 
Curson,  when  he  saw  the  time,  returned  into  Eng 
land,  and  withal  into  wonted  favour  with  the  king, 
but  worse  fame  with  the  people.  Upon  whose 
return  the  earl  was  much  dismayed,  and  seeing 
himself  destitute  of  hopes,  the  Lady  Margaret 
also,  by  tract  of  time  and  bad  success,  being  now 
become  cool  in  those  attempts,  after  some  wander 
ing  in  France  and  Germany,  and  certain  little 
projects,  no  better  than  squibs  of  an  exiled  man, 
being  tired  out,  retired  again  into  the  protection 
of  the  Archduke  Philip  in  Flanders,  who  by  the 
death  of  Isabella  was  at  that  time  King  of  Castile, 
in  the  right  of  Joan  his  wife. 

This  year,  being  the  nineteenth  of  his  reign,  the 
king  called  his  parliament;  wherein  a  man  may 
easily  guess  how  absolute  the  king  took  himself  to 
be  with  his  parliament,  when  Dudley,  that  was  so 
hateful,  was  made  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Com 
mons.  In  this  parliament  there  were  not  made  any 
statutes  memorable  touching  public  government ; 
but  those  that  were,  had  still  the  stamp  of  the 
king's  wisdom  and  policy. 

There  was  a  statute  made  for  the  disannulling 
of  all  patents  of  lease  or  grant,  to  such  as  came 
not  upon  lawful  summons  to  serve  the  king  in  his 
wars,  against  the  enemies  or  rebels,  or  that  should 
depart  without  the  king's  licence;  with  an  excep 
tion  of  certain  persons  of  the  long  robe ;  provid 
ing,  nevertheless,  that  they  should  have  the  king's 
wages  from  their  house  till  they  return  home 
again.  There  had  been  the  like  made  before  for 
offices,  and  by  this  statute  it  was  extended  to 
lands.  But  a  man  may  easily  see  by  many 
statutes  made  in  this  king's  time,  that  the  king 
thought  it  safest  to  assist  martial  law  by  law  of 
parliament. 

Another  statute  was  made  prohibiting  the 
bringing  in  of  manufactures  of  silk  wrought  by 
itself,  or  mixed  with  any  other  thread.  But  it 
was  not  of  stuffs  of  whole  piece,  for  that  the  realm 


had  of  them  no  manufacture  in  use  at  that  time 
but  of  knit  silk,  or  texture  of  silk ;  as  ribands 
laces,  cauls,  points,  and  girdles,  &c.,  which  the 
people  of  England  could  then  well  skill  to  make. 
This  law  pointed  at  a  true  principle;  "That  where 
foreign   materials   are   but  superfluities,   foreign 
manufactures   should  be   prohibited."     For  that 
will  either   banish   the  superfluity,  or  gain   the 
manufacture. 

There  was  a  law  also  of  resumption  of  patents 
of  jails,  and  the  reannexing  of  them  to  the  sheriff- 
wicks;  privileged  officers  being  no  less  an  inter 
ruption  of  justice,  than  privileged  places. 

There  was  likewise  a  law  to  restrain  the  by 
laws  or  ordinances  of  corporations,  which  many 
times  were  against  the  prerogative  of  the  king, 
the  common  law  of  the  realm,  and  the  liberty  of 
the  subject,  being  fraternities  in  evil.  It  was 
therefore  provided,  that  they  should  not  be  put  in 
execution,  without  the  allowance  of  the  chancel 
lor,  treasurer,  and  the  two  chief  justices,  or  three 
of  them,  or  of  the  two  justices  of  circuit  where  the 
corporation  was. 

Another  lav/  was,  in  effect,  to  bring  in  the 
silver  of  the  realm  to  the  mint,  in  making  all 
clipped,  minished,  or  impaired  coins  of  silver  not 
to  be  current  in  payments  ;  without  giving  any 
remedy  of  weight,  but  with  an  exception  only  of 
reasonable  wearing,  which  was  as  nothing  in  re 
spect  of  the  uncertainty  ;  and  so,  upon  the  matter, 
to  set  the  mint  on  work,  and  to  give  way  to  new 
coins  of  silver,  which  should  be  then  minted. 

There  likewise  was  a  long  statute  against  va 
gabonds,  wherein  two  things  may  be  noted  ;  the 
one,  the  dislike  the  parliament  had  of  jailing 
them,  as  that  which  was  chargeable,  pesterous, 
and  of  no  open  example.  The  other  that  in  the 
statutes  of  this  king's  time,  for  this  of  the  nine 
teenth  year  is  not  the  only  statute  of  that  kind, 
there  are  ever  coupled  the  punishment  of  vaga 
bonds,  and  the  forbidding  of  dice  and  cards,  and 
unlawful  games,  unto  servants  and  mean  people, 
and  the  putting  down  and  suppressing  of  ale 
houses,  as  strings  of  one  root  together,  and  as  if 
the  one  were  unprofitable  without  the  other. 

As  for  riot  and  retainers,  there  passed  scarce 
any  parliament  in  this  time  without  a  law  against 
them :  the  king  ever  having  an  eye  to  might  and 
multitude. 

There  was  granted  also  that  parliament  a  sub 
sidy,  both  from  the  temporally  and  the  clergy. 
And  yet,  nevertheless,  ere  the  year  expired,  there 
went  out  commissions  for  a  general  benevolence, 
though  there  were  no  wars,  no  fears.  The  same 
year  the  city  gave  five  thousand  marks,  for  con 
firmation  of  their  liberties  ;  a  thing  fitter  for  the 
beginnings  of  kings'  reigns  than  the  latter  ends. 
Neither  was  it  a  small  matter  that  the  mint  gained 
upon  the  late  statute,  by  the  recoinage  of  groats 
and  half-groats,  now  twelve-pences  and  six 
pences.  As  for  Empson  and  Dudley's  mills,  they 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


377 


did  grind  more  than  ever :  so  that  it  was  a  strange 
thing  to  see  what  golden  showers  poured  down 
upon  the  king's  treasury  at  once;  the  last  pay 
ments  of  the  marriage-money  from  Spain;  the 
subsidy ;  the  benevolence ;  the  recoinage ;  the 
redemption  of  the  city's  liberties ;  the  casualties. 
And  this  is  the  more  to  be  marvelled  at,  because 
the  king  had  then  no  occasions  at  all  of  wars  or 
troubles.  He  had  now  but  one  son  and  one 
daughter  unbestowed.  He  was  wise;  he  was 
of  a  high  mind;  he  needed  not  to  make  riches 
his  glory ;  he  did  excel  in  so  many  things  else ; 
save  that  certainly  avarice  doth  ever  find  in  itself 
matter  of  ambition.  Belike  he  thought  to  leave 
his  son  such  a  kingdom,  and  such  a  mass  of 
treasure,  as  he  might  choose  his  greatness  where 
he  would. 

This  year  was  also  kept  the  sergeants' 
feast,  which  was  the  second  call  in  this  king's 
days. 

About  this  time,  Isabella,  Queen  of  Castile, 
deceased ;  a  right  noble  lady,  and  an  honour  to 
her  sex  and  times,  and  the  corner-stone  of  the 
greatness  of  Spain  that  hath  followed.  This 
accident  the  king  took  not  for  news  at  large,  but 
thought  it  had  a  great  relation  to  his  own  affairs, 
especially  in  two  points :  the  one  for  example,  the 
other  for  consequence.  First,  he  conceived  that 
the  case  of  Ferdinando  of  Arragon,  after  the  death 
of  Queen  Isabella,  was  his  own  case  after  the 
death  of  his  own  queen ;  and  the  case  of  Joan 
the  heir  unto  Castile,  was  the  case  of  his  own 
son  Prince  Henry.  For  if  both  of  the  kings  had 
their  kingdoms  in  the  right  of  their  wives,  they 
descended  to  the  heirs,  and  did  not  accrue  to  the 
husbands.  And  although  his  own  case  had  both 
steel  and  parchment,  more  than  the  other,  that  is 
to  say,  a  conquest  in  the  field,  and  an  act  of  par 
liament,  yet  notwithstanding,  that  natural  title  of 
descent  in  blood  did,  in  the  imagination  even  of 
a  wise  man,  breed  a  doubt  that  the  other  two 
were  not  safe  nor  sufficient.  Wherefore  he  was 
wonderful  diligent  to  inquire  and  observe  what 
became  of  the  King  of  Arragon,  in  holding  and 
continuing  the  kingdom  of  Castile;  and  whether 
he  did  hold  it  in  his  own  right;  or  as  adminis 
trator  to  his  daughter ;  and  whether  he  were  like 
to  hold  it  in  fact,  or  to  be  put  out  by  his  son-in- 
law.  Secondly,  he  did  revolve  in  his  mind,  that 
the  state  of  Christendom  might  by  this  late  acci 
dent  have  a  turn.  For  whereas,  before  time, 
himself,  with  the  conjunction  of  Arragon  and 
Castile,  which  then  was  one,  and  the  amity  of 
Maximilian  and  Philip  his  son  the  archduke, 
was  far  too  strong  a  party  for  France ;  he  began 
to  fear,  that  now  the  French  king,  (who  had 
great  interest  in  the  affections  of  Philip,  the 
you  no  King  of  Castile,  who  was  in  ill  terms 
with  his  father-in-law  about  the  present  govern 
ment  of  Castile ;  and  thirdly,  Maximilian, 
Philip's  father,  who  was  ever  variable,  and 

VOL.  I.— 1-8 


upon  whom  the  surest  aim  that  could  be  taken 
was,  that  he  would  not  be  long  as  he  had  been 
last  before,  would,  all  three,  being  potent  princes, 
enter  into  some  strait  league  and  confederation 
amongst  themselves  :  whereby  though  he  should 
not  been  dangered,  yet  he  should  be  left  to  the 
poor  amity  of  Arragon.  And  whereas  he  had 
been  heretofore  a  kind  of  arbiter  of  Europe,  he 
should  now  go  less,  and  be  over-topped  by  so 
great  a  conjunction.  He  had  also,  as  it  seems, 
an  inclination  to  marry,  and  bethought  himself 
of  some  fit  conditions  abroad;  and  amongst 
others  he  had  heard  of  the  beauty  and  virtuous 
behaviour  of  the  young  Queen  of  Naples,  the 
widow  of  Ferdinando  the  younger,  being  then  of 
matronal  years  of  seven-and-twenty :  by  whose 
marriage  he  thought  that  the  kingdom  of  Naples, 
having  been  a  goal  for  a  time  between  the  King 
of  Arragon  and  the  French  king,  and  being  but 
newly  settled,  might  in  some  part  be  deposited 
in  his  hands,  who  was  so  able  to  keep  the  stakes. 
Therefore  he  sent  in  embassage  or  message  three 
confident  persons,  Francis  Marsin,  James  Bray- 
brooke,  and  John  Stile,  upon  two  several  inqui 
sitions  rather  than  negotiations.  The  one  touch 
ing  the  person  and  condition  of  the  young  Queen 
of  Naples ;  the  other  touching  all  particulars  of 
estate,  that  concerned  the  fortunes  and  intentions 
of  Ferdinando.  And  because  they  may  observe 
best,  who  themselves  are  observed  least,  he  sent 
them  under  colourable  pretexts :  giving  them 
letters  of  kindness  and  compliment  from  Catha 
rine  the  princess,  to  her  aunt  and  niece,  the  old 
and  young  Queen  of  Naples,  and  delivering  to 
them  also  a  book  of  new  articles  of  peace  :  which 
notwithstanding  it  had  been  delivered  unto  Doctor 
de  Puebla,  the  lieger  ambassador  of  Spain  here  in 
England,  to  be  sent;  yet  for  that  the  king  had 
been  long  without  hearing  from  Spain,  he  thought 
good  those  messengers,  when  they  had  been  with 
the  two  queens,  should  likewise  pass  on  to  the 
court  of  Ferdinando,  and  take  a  copy  of  the  book 
with  them.  The  instructions  touching  the  Queen 
of  Naples  were  so  curious  and  exquisite,  being 
as  articles  whereby  to  direct  a  survey,  or  framing 
a  particular  of  her  person,  for  complexion,  favour, 
feature,  stature,  health,  age,  customs,  behaviour, 
conditions,  and  estate,  as,  if  the  king  had  been 
young,  a  man  would  have  judged  him  to  be 
amorous:  but,  being  ancient,  it  ought  to  be  inter 
preted,  that  sure  he  was  very  chaste,  for  that  he 
meant  to  find  all  things  in  one  woman,  and  so  to 
settle  his  affections  without  ranging.  But  in  this 
match  he  was  soon  cooled,  when  he  heard  from 
his  ambassadors,  that  this  young  queen  had  had 
a  goodly  jointure  in  the  realm  of  Naples,  well 
answered  during  the  time  of  her  uncle  Frederick, 
yea,  and  during  the  time  of  Lewis,  the  French 
king,  in  whose  division  her  revenue  fell;  but 
since  the  time  that  the  kingdom  was  in  Ferdi- 
nando's  hands,  all  was  assigned  to  the  army  and 


378 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


garrisons  there,  and  she  received  only  a  pension 
or  exhibition  out  of  his  coffers. 

The  other  part  of  the  inquiry  had  a  grave  and 
diligent  return,  informing  the  king  at  full  of  the 
present  state  of  King  Ferdinando.  By  this 
report  it  appeared  to  the  king,  that  Ferdinando 
did  continue  the  government  of  Castile,  as  admi 
nistrator  unto  his  daughter  Joan,  by  the  title  of 
Queen  Isabella's  will,  and  partly  by  the  custom 
of  the  kingdom,  as  he  pretended.  And  that  all 
mandates  and  grants  were  expediated  in  the 
name  of  Joan  his  daughter,  and  himself  as  ad 
ministrator,  without  mention  of  Philip  her  hus 
band.  And  that  King  Ferdinando,  howsoever 
he  did  dismiss  himself  of  the  name  of  King  of 
Castile,  yet  meant  to  hold  the  kingdom  without 
account,  and  in  absolute  command. 

It  appeareth  also,  that  he  flattered  himself  with 
hopes,  that  King  Philip  would  permit  unto  him 
the  government  of  Castile  during  his  life;  which 
he  had  laid  his  plot  to  work  him  unto,  both  by 
some  counsellors  of  his  about  him,  which  Ferdi 
nando  had  at  his  devotion,  and  chiefly  by  promise, 
that  in  case  Philip  gave  not  way  unto  it,  he  would 
marry  some  young  lady,  whereby  to  put  him  by 
the  succession  of  Arragon  and  Granada,  in  case 
he  should  have  a  son;  and  lastly,  by  representing 
unto  him  that  the  government  of  the  Burgundians, 
till  Philip  were  by  continuance  in  Spain  made  as 
natural  of  Spain,  would  not  be  endured  by  the 
Spaniards.  But  in  all  those  things,  though  wisely 
laid  down  and  considered,  Ferdinando  failed;  but 
that  Pluto  was  better  to  him  than  Pallas. 

In  the  same  report  also,  the  ambassadors  being 
mean  men,  and  therefore  the  more  free,  did  strike 
upon  a  string  which  was  somewhat  dangerous; 
for  they  declared  plainly,  that  the  people  of 
Spain,  both  nobles  and  commons,  were  better 
affected  unto  the  part  of  Philip,  so  he  brought 
his  wife  with  him,  than  to  Ferdinando ;  and  ex 
pressed  the  reason  to  be,  because  he  had  imposed 
upon  them  many  taxes  and  tallages  :  which  was 
the  king's  own  case  between  him  and  his  son. 

There  was  also  in  this  report  a  declaration  of 
an  overture  of  marriage,  which  Amason,  the 
secretary  of  Ferdinando,  had  made  unto  the  am 
bassadors  in  great  secret,  between  Charles,  Prince 
of  Castile,  and  Mary,  the  king's  second  daughter; 
assuring  the  king,  that  the  treaty  of  marriage  then 
on  foot  for  the  said  prince  and  the  daughter  of 
France,  would  break;  and  that  she,  the  said 
daughter  of  France  should  be  married  to  Ango- 
lesme,  that  was  the  heir  apparent  of  France. 

There  was  a  touch  also  of  a  speech  of  marriage 
between  Ferdinando  and  Madame  de  Fois,  a  lady 
of  the  blood  of  France,  which  afterwards  indeed 
succeeded.  But  this  was  reported  as  learned  in 
France,  and  silenced  in  Spain. 

The  king,  by  the  return  of  this  embassage, 
which  gave  great  light  unto  his  affairs,  was  well 
instructed,  and  prepared  how  to  carry  himself 


between  Ferdinando,  King  of  Arragon,  and 
Philip,  his  son-in-law,  King  of  Castile;  resolv 
ing  with  himself  to  do  all  that  in  him  lay,  to 
keep  them  at  one  within  themselves ;  but  howso 
ever  they  succeeded,  by  a  moderate  carriage,  and 
bearing  the  person  of  a  common  friend,  to  lose 
neither  of  their  friendships ;  but  yet  to  run  a 
course  more  entire  \vith  the  King  of  Arragon,  but 
more  laboured  and  officious  with  the  King  of 
Castile.  But  he  was  much  taken  with  the  over 
ture  of  marriage  with  his  daughter  Mary;  both 
because  it  was  the  greatest  marriage  of  Chris 
tendom,  and  for  that  it  took  hold  of  both  allies. 

But  to  corroborate  his  alliance  with  Philip,  the 
winds  gave  him  an  interview  :  for  Philip  choosing 
the  winter  season,  the  better  to  surprise  the  King 
of  Arragon,  set  forth  \vith  a  great  navy  out  of 
Flanders  for  Spain,  in  the  month  of  January,  the 
one-and-twentieth  year  of  the  king's  reign.  Bat 
himself  was  surprised  with  a  cruel  tempest,  that 
scattered  his  ships  upon  the  several  coasts  of  Eng 
land.  And  the  ship  wherein  the  king  and  queen 
were,  with  two  other  small  barks  only,  torn  and 
in  great  peril,  to  escape  the  fury  of  the  weather 
thrust  into  Weymouth.  King  Philip  himself, 
having  not  been  used,  as  it  seems,  to  sea,  all 
wearied  and  extreme  sick,  would  needs  land  to 
refresh  his  spirits,  though  it  was  against  the 
opinion  of  his  council,  doubting  it  might  breed 
delay,  his  occasions  requiring  celerity. 

The  rumour  of  the  arrival  of  a  puissant  navy 
upon  the  coast  made  the  country  arm.  And  Sir 
Thomas  Trenchard,  with  forces  suddenly  raised, 
not  knowing  what  the  matter  might  be,  came  to 
Weymouth ;  where,  understanding  the  accident, 
he  did  in  all  humbleness  and  humanity  invite  the 
king  and  queen  to  his  house  ;  and  forthwith  de 
spatched  posts  to  the  court.  Soon  after  came  Sir 
John  Carew  likewise,  with  a  great  troop  of  men 
well  armed :  using  the  like  humbleness  and  re 
spects  towards  the  king,  \vhen  he  knew  the  case. 
King  Philip  doubting  that  they,  being  but  subjects, 
durst  not  let  him  pass  away  again  without  the 
king's  notice  and  leave,  yielded  to  their  entreaties 
to  stay  till  they  heard  from  the  court.  The  king, 
as  soon  as  he  heard  the  news,  commanded  present 
ly  the  Earl  of  Arundel  to  go  to  visit  the  King  of 
Castile,  and  let  him  understand  that  as  he  was 
very  sorry  for  his  mishap,  so  he  was  gl^d  that  he 
had  escaped  the  danger  of  the  seas,  and  likewise 
of  the  occasion  himself  had  to  do  him  honour ;  and 
desiring  him  to  think  himself  as  in  his  own  land  ; 
and  that  the  king  made  all  haste  possible  to  come 
and  embrace  him.  The  earl  came  to  him  in  great 
magnificence,  with  a  brave  troop  of  three  hundred 
horse;  and,  for  more  state,  came  by  torch-light. 
After  he  had  done  the  king's  message,  King 
Philip  seeing  how  the  world  went,  the  sooner  to 
get  away,  went  upon  speed  to  the  king  at  Windsor, 
and  his  queen  followed  by  easy  journeys.  The 
two  kings  at  their  meeting  used  all  the  caresses 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


379 


and  loving  demonstrations  that  were  possible. 
And  the  King  of  Castile  said  pleasantly  to  the 
king,  "  That  he  was  now  punished  for  that  he 
would  not  come  within  his  walled  town  of  Calais, 
when  they  met  last."  But  the  king  answered, 
"  That  walls  and  seas  were  nothing  where  hearts 
were  open ;  and  that  he  was  here  no  otherwise 
but  to  be  served."  After  a  day  or  two's  refresh 
ing,  the  kings  entered  into  speech  of  renewing  the 
treaty ;  the  king  saying,  that  though  King  Philip's 
person  were  the  same,  yet  his  fortunes  and  state 
were  raised  :  in  which  case  a  renovation  of  treaty 
was  used  amongst  princes.  But  while  these 
things  were  in  handling,  the  king  choosing  a  fit 
time,  and  drawing-  the  King  of  Castile  into  a 
room,  where  they  two  only  were  private,  and  lay 
ing  his  hand  civilly  upon  his  arm,  and  changing 
his  countenance  a  little  from  a  countenance  of 
entertainment,  said  to  him,  "  Sir,  you  have  been 
saved  upon  my  coast,  I  hope  you  will  not  suffer 
me  to  wreck  upon  yours."  The  King  of  Castile 
asked  him  what  he  meant  by  that  speech  1  "I 
mean  it,"  saiththe  king,  "  by  that  same  harebrain 
wild  fellow,  my  subject,  the  Earl  of  Suffolk,  who 
is  protected  in  your  country,  and  begins  to  play 
the  fool,  when  all  others  are  weary  of  it."  The 
King  of  Castile  answered,  "I  had  thought,  sir, 
your  felicity  had  been  above  those  thoughts  ;  but 
if  it  trouble  you,  I  will  banish  him."  The  king 
replied,  "  Those  hornets  were  best  in  their  nest, 
and  worst  when  they  did  fly  abroad ;  and  that  his 
desire  was  to  have  him  delivered  to  him."  The 
King  of  Castile,  herewith  a  little  confused,  and 
in  a  study,  said,  "That  can  I  not  do  with  my 
honour,  and  less  with  yours;  for  you  will  be 
thought  to  have  used  me  as  a  prisoner."  The 
king  presently  said,  "Then  the  matter  is  at  end, 
for  I  will  take  that  dishonour  upon  me,  and  so 
your  honour  is  saved."  The  King  of  Castile,  who 
had  the  king  in  great  estimation,  and  besides  re 
membered  where  he  was,  and  knew  not  what  use 
he  might  have  of  the  king's  amity,  for  that  him 
self  was  new  in  his  estate  of  Spain,  and  unsettled 
both  with  his  father-in-law  and  with  his  people, 
composing  his  countenance,  said,  "  Sir,  you  give 
law  to  me,  but  so  will  I  to  you.  You  shall  have 
him,  but,  upon  your  honour,  you  shall  not  take  his 
life."  The  king  embracing  him  said,  "Agreed." 
Saith  the  King  of  Castile,  "Neither  shall  it  dis 
like  you,  if  I  send  to  him  in  such  a  fashion,  as  he 
may  partly  come  with  his  own  good  will."  The 
king  said,  "It  was  well  thought  of;  and  if  it 
pleased  him,  he  would  join  with  him,  in  sending 
to  the  earl  a  message  to  that  purpose."  They 
both  sent  severally,  and  mean  while  they  con 
tinued  feasting  and  pastimes.  The  king  being, 
on  his  part,  willing  to  have  the  earl  sure  before 
the  King  of  Castile  went ;  and  the  King  of  Castile 
being  as  willing  to  seem  to  be  enforced.  The  king 
also,  with  many  wise  and  excellent  persuasions, 
did  advise  the  King  of  Castile  to  be  ruled  by  the 


counsel  of  his  father-in-law  Ferdinando  ;  a  prince 
so  prudent,  so  experienced,  so  fortunate.  The  King 
of  Castile,  who  was  in  no  very  good  terms  with 
his  said  father-in-law,  answered,  "  That  if  his 
father-in-law  would  suffer  him  to  govern  his 
kingdoms,  he  should  govern  him." 

There  were  immediately  messengers  sent  from 
both  kings  to  recall  the  Earl  of  Suffolk  ;  who 
upon  gentle  words  used  to  him,  was  soon  charm 
ed,  and  willing  enough  to  return  ;  assured  of  his 
life,  and  hoping  of  his  liberty.  He  was  brought 
through  Flanders  to  Calais,  and  thence  landed  at 
Dover,  and  with  sufficient  guard  delivered  and  re 
ceived  at  the  Tower  of  London.  Meanwhile, 
King  Henry,  to  draw  out  the  time,  continued  his 
feastings  and  entertainments,  and  after  he  had  re 
ceived  the  King  of  Castile  into  the  fraternity  of 
the  Garter,  and  for  a  reciprocal  had  his  son,  the 
prince,  admitted  to  the  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece, 
he  accompanied  King  Philip  and  his  queen  to  the 
city  of  London,  where  they  were  entertained  with 
the  greatest  magnificence  and  triumph  that  could 
be  upon  no  greater  warning.  And  as  soon  as 
the  Earl  of  Suffolk  had  been  conveyed  to  the 
Tower,  which  was  the  serious  part,  the  jollities 
had  an  end,  and  the  kings  took  leave.  Neverthe 
less,  during  their  being  here,  they  in  substance 
concluded  that  treaty,  which  the  Flemings 
term  "  intercursus  malus,"  and  bears  date  at 
Windsor ;  for  that  there  be  some  things  in  it, 
more  to  the  advantage  of  the  English  than  of 
them  ;  especially,  for  that  the  free-fishing  of  the 
Dutch  upon  the  coasts  and  seas  of  England  grant 
ed  in  the  treaty  of  "undecimo,"  was  not  by  this 
treaty  confirmed.  All  articles  that  confirm  former 
treaties  being  precisely  and  warily  limited  and 
confirmed  to  matter  of  commerce  only,  and  not 
otherwise. 

It  was  observed,  that  the  great  tempest  which 
drove  Philip  into  England,  blew  down  the  golden 
eagle  from  the  spire  of  Paul's,  and  in  the  fall  it 
fell  upon  a  sign  of  the  black  eagle,  which  was  in 
Paul's  church-yard,  in  the  place  where  the  school- 
house  now  standeth,  and  battered  it,  and  brake  it 
down  :  which  was  a  strange  stooping  of  a  hawk 
upon  a  fowl.  This  the  people  interpreted  to  be  an 
ominous  prognostic  upon  the  imperial  house, 
which  was,  by  interpretation  also,  fulfilled  upon 
Philip,  the  emperor's  son,  not  only  in  the  present 
disaster  of  the  tempest,  but  in  that  that  followed. 
For  Philip  arriving  into  Spain,  and  attaining  the 
possession  of  the  kingdom  of  Castile  without  re 
sistance,  insomuch  as  Ferdinando,  who  had  spoke 
so  great  before,  was  with  difficulty  admitted  to 
the  speech  of  his  son-in-law,  sickened  soon  after, 
and  deceased.  Yet  after  such  time,  as  there  was 
an  observation  by  the  wisest  of  that  court,  that  if 
he  had  lived,  his  father  would  have  gained  upon 
him  in  that  sort,  as  he  would  have  governed  his 
councils  and  designs,  if  not  his  affections.  B\» 
this  all  Spain  returned  into  the  power  of  Ferdi 


380 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


irando  in  state  as  it  was  before :  the  rather,  in  re 
gard  of  the  infirmity  of  Joan  his  daughter,  who, 
loving  her  husband,  by  whom  she  had  many  child 
ren,  dearly  well,  and  no  less  beloved  of  him, 
howsoever  her  father,  to  make  Philip  ill-beloved 
of  the  people  of  Spain,  gave  out  that  Philip  used 
her  not  well,  was  unable  in  strength  of  rnind  to 
bear  the  grief  of  his  decease,  and  fell  distracted  of 
her  wits.  Of  which  malady  her  father  was  thought 
noways  to  endeavour  the  cure,  the  better  to  hold 
his  regal  power  in  Castile.  So  that  as  the  felicity 
of  Charles  the  Eighth  was  said  to  be  a  dream ; 
so  the  adversity  of  Ferdinando  was  said  likewise 
to  be  a  dream,  it  passed  over  so  soon. 

About  this  time  the  king  was  desirous  to  bring 
into  the  house  of  Lancaster  celestial  honour,  and 
became  suitor  to  Pope  Julius,  to  canonize  King 
Henry  the  Sixth  for  a  saint,  the  rather,  in  respect 
of  that  his  famous  prediction  of  the  king's  own 
assumption  to  the  crown.  Julius  referred  the 
matter,  as  the  manner  is,  to  certain  cardinals,  to 
take  the  verification  of  his  holy  acts  and  miracles  : 
but  it  died  under  the  reference.  The  general 

o 

opinion  was,  that  Pope  Julius  was  too  dear,  and 
that  the  king  would  not  come  to  his  rates.  But  it 
is  more  probable,  that  the  pope,  who  was  extremely 
jealous  of  the  dignity  of  the  see  of  Rome,  and  of 
the  acts  thereof,  knowing  that  King  Henry  the 
Sixth  was  reputed  in  the  world  abroad  but  for  a 
simple  man,  was  afraid  it  would  but  diminish  the 
estimation  of  that  kind  of  honour,  if  there  were 
not  a  distance  kept  between  innocents  and  saints. 
The  same  year  likewise  there  proceeded  a 
treaty  of  marriage  between  the  king  and  the  Lady 
Margaret,  Duchess-dowager  of  Savoy,  only  daugh 
ter  to  Maximilian,  and  sister  to  the  King  of  Cas 
tile  ;  a  lady  wise,  and  of  great  good  fame.  This 
matter  had  been  in  speech  between  the  two  kings 
at  their  meeting,  but  was  soon  after  resumed  ;  and 
therein  was  employed  for  his  first  piece  the  king's 
then  chaplain,  and  after  the  great  prelate,  Thomas 
Wolsey.  It  was  in  the  end  concluded,  with  great 
and  ample  conditions  for  the  king,  but  with  promise 
de  futuro  only.  It  may  be  the  king  was  the  rather 
induced  unto  it,  for  that  he  had  heard  more  and 
more  of  the  marriage  to  go  on  between  his  great 
friend  and  ally  Ferdinando  of  Arragon,  and  Ma 
dame  de  Fois,  whereby  that  king  began  to  piece 
with  the  French  king,  from  whom  he  had  been 
always  before  severed.  So  fatal  a  thing  it  is,  for 
the  greatest  and  straitest  amities  of  kings  at  one 
time  or  other,  to  have  a  little  of  the  wheel ;  nay, 
there  is  a  farther  tradition  in  Spain,  though  not 
with  us,  that  the  King  of  Arragon,  after  he  knew 
that  the  marriage  between  Charles,  Prince  of 
Castile,  and  Mary,  the  king's  second  daughter, 
went  roundly  on,  (which  though  it  was  first  moved 
i<y  the  King  of  Arragon,  yet  it  was  afterwards 
wholly  advanced  and  brought  to  perfection  by 
Maximilian,  and  the  friends  on  that  side,)  entered 
iuto  a  jealousy  that  the  king  did  aspire  to  the  go 


vernment  of  Castilia,  as  administrator  during  the 
minority  of  his  son-in-law ;  as  if  there  should  have 
been  a  competition  of  three  for  that  government ; 
Ferdinando,  grandfather  on  the  mother's  side; 
Maximilian,  grandfather  on  the  father's  side  ;  and 
King  Henry,  father-in-law  to  the  young  prince. 
Certainly  it  is  not  unlike,  but  the  king's  govern 
ment,  carrying  the  young  prince  with  him,  would 
have  been  perhaps  more  welcome  to  the  Spaniards 
than  that  of  the  other  two.  For  the  nobility  of  Cas 
tilia,  that  so  lately  put  out  the  King  of  Arragon 
in  favour  of  King  Philip,   and   had   discovered 
themselves  so  far,  could  not  be  but  in  a  secret 
distrust  and  distaste  of  that  king.     And  as   for 
Maximilian,  upon  twenty  respects  he  could  not 
have   been  the  man.     But  this  purpose   of  the 
king's  seemeth  to  me,  considering  the  king's  safe 
courses,  never  found  to  be  enterprising  or  adven 
turous,  not   greatly  probable,   except  he  should 
have  had  a  desire  to  breathe  warmer,  because  he 
had  ill  lungs.     This  marriage  with  Margaret  was 
protracted  from  time  to  time,  in  respect  of  the  infir 
mity  of  the  king,  who  now  in  the  two-and-twentieth 
of  his  reign  began  to  be  troubled  with  the  gout: 
but   the   deiiuxion   taking   also   into   his  breast, 
wasted   his  lungs,  so  that  thrice  in  a  year,  in  a, 
kind  of  return,  and  especially  in  the  spring,  he 
had  great  fits  and  labour  of  the  phthisic  :  neverthe 
less,  he  continued  to  intend  business  with  as  great 
diligence  as  before  in  his  health :  yet  so,  as  upon 
this    warning   he   did   likewise   now   more  seri 
ously  think  of  the  world  to  come,  and  of  making 
himself  a  saint,  as  well  as  King  Henry  the  Sixth, 
by  treasure  better  employed,  than  to  be  given  to 
Pope  Julius  ;  for  this  year  he  gave  greater  alms 
than   accustomed,  and  discharged   all   prisoners 
about  the   city,  that  lay  for  fees  or  debts  under 
forty  shillings.      He  did  also  make  haste  with 
religious  foundations  ;  and  in  the  year  following, 
which  was  the  three-and-twentieth,  finished  that 
of  the  Savoy.  And  hearing  also  of  the  bitter  cries 
of  his  people  against  the  oppression  of  Dudley 
and  Empson,  and  their  complices:  partly  by  de 
vout  persons  about  him,  and  partly  by  public  ser 
mons,  the  preachers  doing  their  duty  therein,  he 
was  touched  with  great  remorse  for  the   same. 
Nevertheless  Empson  and  Dudley,  though  they 
could  not  but  hear  of  these  scruples  in  the  king's 
conscience ;    yet,  as  if  the  king's  soul  and  his 
:noney  were  in  several  offices,  that  the  one  was  not 
to  intermeddle  with  the  other,  went  on  with  as  great 
rage  as  ever.     For  the  same  three-and-twentieth 
year  was  there  a  sharp  prosecution  against  Sir 
William  Capel,  now  the  second  time :  and  this 
was  for  matters  of  misgovernment  in  his  mayor 
alty  :  the  great  matter  being,  that  in  some  pay 
ments  he  had  taken  knowledge  of  false  moneys, 
and  did  not  his  diligence  to  examine  and  beat  it 
out  who  were  the  offenders.     For  this  and  some 
other  things  laid  to  his  charge,  he  was  condemned 
;o  pay  two  thousand  pounds ;  and  being  a  man 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


381 


of  stomach,  and  hardened  by  his  former  troubles, 
refused  to  pay  a  mite ;  and  belike  used  some  un 
toward  speeches  of  the  proceedings,  for  which  he 
was  sent  to  the  Tower,  and  there  remained  till  the 
king's  death.  Knes worth  likewise,  that  had  been 
lately  Mayor  of  London,  and  both  his  sheriffs, 
were  for  abuses  in  their  offices  questioned,  and  im 
prisoned,  and  delivered  upon  one  thousand  four 
hundred  pounds  paid.  Hawis,  an  alderman  of 
London,  was  put  in  trouble,  and  died  with  thought 
and  anguish  before  his  business  came  to  an  end. 
Sir  Lawrence  Ailraer,  who  had  likewise  been 
Mayor  of  London,  and  his  two  sheriffs,  were  put, 
to  the  fine  of  one  thousand  pounds.  And  Sir 
Lawrence,  for  refusing  to  make  payment,  was 
committed  to  prison,  where  he  stayed  till  Empson 
himself  was  committed  in  his  place. 

It  is  no  marvel,  if  the  faults  were  so  light,  and 
the  rates  so  heavy,  that  the  king's  treasure  of  store, 
that  he  left  at  his  death,  most  of  it  in  secret 
places,  under  his  own  key  and  keeping,  at  Rich 
mond,  amounted,  as  by  tradition  it  is  reported  to 
have  done,  unto  the  sum  of  near  eighteen  hundred 
thousand  pounds  sterling;  a  huge  mass  of  money 
even  for  those  times. 

The  last  act  of  state  that  concluded  this  king's 
temporal  felicity,  was  the  conclusion  of  a  glorious 
match  between  his  daughter  Mary,  and  Charles, 
Prince  of  Castile,  afterwards  the  great  emperor, 
both  being  of  tender  years  :  which  treaty  was  per 
fected  by  Bishop  Fox,  and  other  his  commission 
ers  at  Calais,  the  year  before  the  king's  death. 
In  which  alliance,  it  seemeth,  he  himself  took  so 
high  contentment,  as  in  a  letter  which  he  wrote 
thereupon  to  the  city  of  London,  commanding  all 
possible  demonstrations  of  joy  to  be  made  for  the 
same,  he  expressed  himself,  as  if  he  thought  he 
had  built  a  wall  of  brass  about  his  kingdom  : 
when  he  had  for  his  sons-in-law,  a  king  of  Scot 
land,  and  a  prince  of  Castile  and  Burgundy.  So 
as  now  there  was  nothing  to  be  added  to  this 
great  king's  felicity,  being  at  the  top  of  all  world 
ly  bliss,  in  regard  of  the  high  marriages  of  his 
children,  his  great  renown  throughout  Europe,  and 
his  scarce  credible  riches,  and  the  perpetual  con 
stancy  of  his  prosperous  successes,  but  an  oppor 
tune  death,  to  withdraw  him  from  any  future 
blow  of  fortune ;  which  certainly  (in  regard  of 
the  great  hatred  of  his  people,  and  the  title  of  his 
son,  being  then  come  to  eighteen  years  of  age, 
and  being  a  bold  prince  and  liberal,  and  that  gained 
upon  the  people,  by  his  very  aspect  and  presence) 
had  not  been  impossible  to  have  come  upon  him. 

To  crown  also  the  last  year  of  his  reign,  as  well 
as  his  first,  he  did  an  act  of  piety,  rare,  and  worthy 
to  be  taken  into  imitation.  For  he  granted  forth 
a  general  pardon :  as  expecting  a  second  corona 
tion  in  a  better  kingdom.  He  did  also  declare  in 
his  will,  that  his  mind  was,  that  restitution  should 
be  made  of  those  sums  which  had  been  unjustly 
taken  by  his  officers. 


And  thus  this  Solomon  of  England,  for  Solomon 
also  was  too  heavy  upon  his  people  in  exactions, 
having  lived  two-and-fifty  years,  and  thereof 
reigned  three-and -twenty  years,  and  eight  months, 
being  in  perfect  memory,  and  in  a  most  blessed 
mind,  in  a  great  calm  of  a  consuming  sickness, 
passed  to  a  better  world,  the  two-and-twentieth  of 
April,  1508,  at  his  palace  of  Richmond,  which  he 
himself  had  built. 

This  king,  to  speak  of  him  in  terms  equal  to 
his  deserving,  was  one  of  the  best  sort  of  won 
ders;   a  wonder  for  wise  men.      He  had  parts, 
both  in  his  virtues  and  his  fortune,  not  so  fit  for  a 
commonplace,  as  for  observation.     Certainly  he 
was  religious,  both  in  his   affection  and   obser 
vance.     But  as  he  could  see  clear,  for  those  times, 
through  superstition,  so  he  would  be  blinded,  now 
and  then,  by  human  policy.     He  advanced  church 
men  :  he  was  tender  in  the  privilege  of  sanctua 
ries,  though  they  wrought  him  much  mischief. 
He  built  and   endowed    many  religious  founda-f 
tions,   besides   his  memorable    hospital    of    the 
Savoy  :  and  yet  was  he  a  great  alms-giver  in  se 
cret;   which    showed,  that  his  works  in  public 
were  dedicated  rather  to  God's   glory   than   his 
own.      He   professed  always  to  love   and  seek 
peace;  and  it  was  his  usual  preface  in  his  treaties, 
that  when  Christ  came  into  the  world  peace  was 
sung;  and  when  he  went  out  of  the  world  peace 
was  bequeathed.     And  this  virtue  could  not  pro 
ceed  out  of  fear  or  softness  :  for  he  was  valiant 
and  active,  and  therefore,  no  doubt,  it  was  truly 
Christian  and  moral.     Yet  he  knew  the  way  to 
peace  was  not  to  seem  to  be  desirous  to  avoid 
wars ;  therefore  would  he  make  offers  and  fames 
of  wars,  till  he  had  mended  the  conditions  of 
peace.     It  was  also  much,  that  one  that  was  so 
great  a  lover  of  peace,  should  be  so  happy  in  war. 
For  his  arms,  either  in  foreign  or  civil  wars,  were 
never  unfortunate ;  neither  did  he  know  what  a 
disaster  meant.     The  war  of  his  coming  in,  and 
the  rebellions  of  the  Earl  of  Lincoln,  and  the 
Lord  Audley,  were  ended  by  victory.     The  wars 
of  France  and  Scotland,  by  peaces  sought  at  his 
hands.      That  of    Britain,   by   accident   of   the 
duke's  death.      The    insurrection   of   the   Lord 
Lovel,  and  that  of  Perkin  at  Exeter,  and  in  Kent, 
by  flight  of  the  rebels  before  they  came  to  blows. 
So  that  his  fortune  of  arms  was  still  inviolate ; 
the  rather  sure,  for  that  in  the  quenching  of  the 
commotions  of  his  subjects,  he  ever  went  in  per 
son  :    sometimes  reserving  himself  to  back  and 
second  his  lieutenants,  but  ever  in  action;  and 
yet  that  was  not  merely  forwardness,  but  partly 
distrust  of  others. 

He  did  much  maintain  and  countenance  his 
laws ;  which,  nevertheless,  was  no  impediment 
to  him  to  work  his  will :  for  it  was  so  handled, 
that  neither  prerogative  nor  profit  went  to  dimi 
nution.  And  yet  as  he  would  sometimes  strain 
up  his  laws  to  his  prerogative,  so  would  he  also 


382 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


let  down  his  prerogative  to  his  parliament.  For 
mint,  and  wars,  and  martial  discipline,  things  of 
absolute  power,  he  would  nevertheless  bring  to 
parliament.  Justice  was  well  administered  in 
nis  time,  save  where  the  king  was  party :  save 
also,  that  the  council-table  intermeddled  too  much 
with  "meum"  and  "tuum."  For  it  was  a  very 
court  of  justice  during  his  time,  especially  in  the 
beginning;  but  in  that  part  both  of  justice  and 
policy,  which  is  the  durable  part,  and  cut,  as  it 
were,  in  brass  or  marble,  which  is  the  making  of 
good  laws,  he  did  excel.  And  with  his  justice, 
he  was  also  a  merciful  prince :  as  in  whose  time, 
there  were  but  three  of  the  nobility  that  suffered  ; 
the  Earl  of  Warwick,  the  lord  chamberlain,  and 
the  Lord  Audley :  though  the  first  two  were 
instead  of  numbers,  in  the  dislike  and  obloquy 
of  the  people.  But  there  were  never  so  great 
rebellions,  expiated  with  so  little  blood,  drawn 
by  the  hand  of  justice,  as  the  two  rebellions  of 
Blackheath  and  Exeter.  As  for  the  severity 
used  upon  those  which  were  taken  in  Kent,  it 
was  but  upon  a  scum  of  people.  His  pardons 
went  ever  both  before  and  after  his  sword.  But 
then  he  had  withal  a  strange  kind  of  interchang 
ing  of  large  and  unexpected  pardons,  with  severe 
executions;  which,  his  wisdom  considered,  could 
not  be  imputed  to  any  inconstancy  or  inequality ; 
but  either  to  some  reason  which  we  do  not  now 
know,  or  to  a  principle  he  had  set  unto  himself, 
that  he  would  vary,  and  try  both  ways  in  turn. 
But  the  less  blood  he  drew,  the  more  he  took  of 
treasure.  And,  as  some  construed  it,  he  was  the 
more  sparing  in  the  one,  that  he  might  be  the 
more  pressing  in  the  other ;  for  both  would  have 
been  intolerable.  Of  nature  assuredly  he  coveted 
to  accumulate  treasure,  and  was  a  little  poor  in 
admiring  riches.  The  people,  into  whom  there  is 
infused,  for  the  preservation  of  monarchies,  a 
natural  desire  to  discharge  their  princes,  though  it 
be  with  the  unjust  charge  of  their  counsellors  and 
ministers,  did  impute  this  unto  Cardinal  Morton 
and  Sir  Reginald  Bray,  who,  as  it  after  appeared, 
as  counsellors  of  ancient  authority  with  him,  did 
so  second  his  humours,  as  nevertheless  they  did 
temper  them.  Whereas  Empson  and  Dudley 
that  followed,  being  persons  that  had  no  reputa 
tion  with  him,  otherwise  than  by  the  servile  fol 
lowing  of  his  bent,  did  not  give  way  only,  as  the 
first  did,  but  shape  him  way  to  those  extremities, 
for  which  himself  was  touched  with  remorse  at 
his  death,  and  which  his  successor  renounced, 
and  sought  to  purge.  This  excess  of  his  had 
at  that  time  many  glosses  and  interpretations. 
Some  thought  the  continual  rebellions  wherewith 
lie  had  been  vexed,  had  made  him  grow  to  hate 
his  people:  some  thought  it  was  done  to  pull 
down  their  stomachs,  and  to  keep  them  low: 
some,  for  that  he  would  leave  his  son  a  golden 
fleece:  some  suspected  he  had  some  high  design 
upon  foreign  parts  :  but  those  perhaps  shall  come 


nearest  the  truth,  that  fetch  not  their  reasons  so 
far  off:  but  rather  impute  it  to  nature,  age,  peace, 
and  a  mind  fixed  upon  no  other  ambition  or  pur 
suit.  Whereunto  I  should  add,  that  having  every 
day  occasion  to  take  notice  of  the  necessities  and 
shifts  for  money  of  other  great  princes  abroad,  it 
did  the  better,  by  comparison,  set  off  to  him  the 
felicity  of  full  coffers.  As  to  his  expending  of 
treasure,  he  never  spared  charge  which  his  affairs 
required :  and  in  his  buildings  was  magnificent, 
but  his  rewards  were  very  limited :  so  that  his 
liberality  was  rather  upon  his  own  state  and 
memory,  than  upon  the  deserts  of  others. 

He  was  of  a  high  mind,  and  loved  his  own 
will,  and  his  own  way ;  as  one  that  revered  him 
self,  and  would  reign  indeed.  Had  he  been  a 
private  man,  he  would  have  been  termed  proud. 
But  in  a  wise  prince,  it  was  but  keeping  of  dis 
tance,  which  indeed  he  did  towards  all ;  not  ad 
mitting  any  near  or  full  approach,  either  to  his 
power,  or  to  his  secrets,  for  he  was  governed  by 
none.  His  queen,  notwithstanding  she  had  pre 
sented  him  with  divers  children,  and  with  a  crown 
also,  though  he  would  not  acknowledge  it,  could 
do  nothing  with  him.  His  mother  he  reverenced 
much,  heard  little.  For  any  person  agreeable  to 
him  for  society,  such  as  was  Hastings  to  King 
Edward  the  Fourth,  or  Charles  Brandon  after  to 
King  Henry  the  Eighth,  he  had  none  :  except  we 
should  account  for  such  persons,  Fox,  and  Bray, 
and  Empson,  because  they  were  so  much  with 
him:  but  it  was  but  as  the  instrument  is  much 
with  the  workman.  He  had  nothing  in  him  of 
vainglory,  but  yet  kept  state  and  majesty  to  the 
height;  being  sensible,  that  majesty  maketh  the 
people  bow,  but  vainglory  boweth  to  them. 

To  his  confederates  abroad  he  was  constant 
and  just,  but  not  open.  But  rather  such  was  his 
inquiry,  and  such  his  closeness,  as  they  stood  in 
the  light  towards  him,  and  he  stood  in  the  dark 
to  them.  Yet  without  strangeness,  but  with  a 
semblance  of  mutual  communication  of  affairs. 
As  for  little  envies,  or  emulations  upon  foreign 
princes,  which  are  frequent  with  many  kings,  he 
had  never  any  :  but  went  substantially  to  his  own 
business.  Certain  it  is,  that  though  his  reputa 
tion  was  great  at  home,  yet  it  was  greater  abroad. 
For  foreigners  that  could  not  see  the  passages  of 
affairs,  but  made  their  judgments  upon  the  issues 
of  them,  noted  that  he  was  ever  in  strife,  and 
ever  aloft.  It  grew  also  from  the  airs  which  the 
princes  and  states  abroad  received  from  their 
ambassadors  and  agents  here ;  which  were  at 
tending  the  court  in  great  number :  whom  he  did 
not  only  content  with  courtesy,  reward,  and  pri- 
vateness :  but,  upon  such  conferences  as  passed 
with  them,  put  them  in  admiration,  to  find  his 
universal  insight  into  the  affairs  of  the  world: 
which  though  he  did  suck  chiefly  from  them 
selves,  yet  that  which  he  had  gathered  from  them 
all,  seemed  admirable  to  every  one.  So  that  they 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


383 


did  write  ever,  to  their  superiors  in  high  terms, 
concerning  his  wisdom  and  art  of  rule;  nay, 
when  they  were  returned,  they  did  commonly 
maintain  intelligence  with  him.  Such  a  dex 
terity  he  had  to  impropriate  to  himself  all  foreign 
instruments. 

He  was  careful  and  liberal  to  obtain  good  in 
telligence  from  all  parts  abroad :  wherein  he  did 
not  only  use  his  interest  in  the  liegers  here,  and 
his  pensioner,  which  he  had  both  in  the  court  of 
Rome,  and  other  the  courts  of  Christendom ;  but 
the  industry  and  vigilancy  of  his  own  ambassa 
dors  in  foreign  parts.  For  which  purpose  his 
instructions  were  ever  extreme,  curious,  and 
articulate :  and  in  them  more  articles  touching 
inquisition,  than  touching  negotiation  :  requiring 
likewise  from  his  ambassadors  an  answer,  in 
particular  distinct  articles  respectively  to  his 
questions. 

As  for  his  secret  spials,  which  he  did  employ 
both  at  home  and  abroad,  by  them  to  discover 
what  practices  and  conspiracies  were  against 
him,  surely  his  case  required  it:  he  had  such 
moles  perpetually  working  and  casting,  to  under 
mine  him.  Neither  can  it  be  reprehended:  for 
if  spials  be  lawful  against  lawful  enemies,  much 
more  against  conspirators  and  traitors.  But  in 
deed  to  give  them  credence  by  oaths  or  curses, 
that  cannot  be  well  maintained  :  for  those  are  too 
holy  vestments  for  a  disguise.  Yet  surely  there 
was  this  further  good  in  his  employing  of  these 
flies  and  familiars ;  that  as  the  use  of  them  was 
cause  that  many  conspiracies  were  revealed,  so 
the  fame  and  suspicion  of  them  kept,  no  doubt, 
many  conspiracies  from  being  attempted. 

Towards  his  queen  he  was  nothing  uxorious, 
nor  scarce  indulgent:  but  companionable  and 
respective,  and  without  jealousy.  Towards  his 
children  he  was  full  of  paternal  affection,  careful 
of  their  education,  aspiring  to  their  high  advance 
ment,  regular  to  see  that  they  should  not  want  of 
any  due  honour  and  respect,  but  not  greatly  will 
ing  to  cast  any  popular  lustre  upon  them. 

To  his  council  he  did  refer  much,  and  sat  oft 
in  person :  knowing  it  to  be  the  way  to  assist  his 
power,  and  inform  his  judgment.  In  which  re 
spect  also  he  was  fairly  patient  of  liberty,  both 
of  advice,  and  of  vote,  till  himself  were  declared. 
He  kept  a  strait  hand  on  his  nobility,  and  chose 
rather  to  advance  clergymen  and  lawyers,  which 
were  more  obsequious  to  him,  but  had  less 
interest  in  the  people;  which  made  for  his  abso 
luteness,  but  not  for  his  safety.  Insomuch  as,  I 
am  persuaded,  it  was  one  of  the  causes  of  his 
troublesome  reign;  for  that  his  nobles,  though 
they  were  loyal  and  obedient,  yet  did  not  co 
operate  with  him,  but  let  every  man  go  his  own 
way.  He  was  not  afraid  of  an  able  man,  as 
Lewis  the  Eleventh  was;  but  contrariwise,  he 
was  served  by  the  ablest  men  that  were  to  be 
found ;  without  which  his  affairs  could  not  have 


prospered  as  they  did.  For  war,  Bedford,  Ox 
ford,  Surrey,  D'Aubigny,  Brooke,  Poynings :  for 
other  affairs,  Morton,  Fox,  Bray,  the  Prior  of 
Lanthony,  Warham,  Urswick,  Hussey,  Frowick, 
and  others.  Neither  did  he  care  how  cunning 
they  were  that  he  did  employ :  for  he  thought 
himself  to  have  the  master-reach.  And  as  he 
chose  well,  so  he  held  them  up  well ;  for  it  is  a 
strange  thing,  that  though  he  were  a  dark  prince, 
and  infinitely  suspicious,  and  his  times  full  of 
secret  conspiracies  and  troubles :  yet  in  twenty- 
four  years'  reign,  he  never  put  down,  or  discom 
posed  counsellor,  or  near  servant,  save  only  Stan 
ley,  the  lord  chamberlain.  As  for  the  disposition 
of  his  subjects  in  general  towards  him,  it  stood 
thus  with  him ;  that  of  the  three  affections, 
which  naturally  tie  the  hearts  of  the  subjects  to 
their  sovereigns,  love,  fear,  and  reverence;  he 
had  the  last  in  height,  the  second  in  good  measure, 
and  so  little  of  the  first,  as  he  was  beholden  to  the 
other  two. 

He  was  a  prince,  sad,  serious,  and  full  of 
thoughts,  and  secret  observations,  and  full  of 
notes  and  memorials  of  his  own  hand,  especially 
touching  persons.  As,  whom  to  employ,  whom 
to  reward,  whom  to  inquire  of,  whom  to  beware 
of,  what  were  the  dependencies,  what  were  the 
factions,  and  the  like;  keeping,  as  it  were,  a 
journal  of  his  thoughts.  There  is  to  this  day  a 
merry  tale ;  that  his  monkey,  set  on  as  it  is 
thought  by  one  of  his  chamber,  tore  his  principal 
note-book  all  to  pieces,  when  by  chance  it  lay 
forth :  whereat  the  court,  which  liked  not  those 
pensive  accounts,  was  almost  tickled  with  sport. 

He  was  indeed  full  of  apprehensions  and  sus 
picions;  but  as  he  did  easily  take  them,  so  he 
did  easily  check  them  and  master  them ;  whereby 
they  were  not  dangerous,  but  troubled  himself 
more  than  others.  It  is  true,  his  thoughts  were 
so  many,  as  they  could  not  well  always  stand 
together;  but  that  which  did  good  oneway,  did 
hurt  another.  Neither  did  he  at  sometimes  weigh 
them  aright  in  their  proportions.  Certainly,  that 
rumour  which  did  him  so  much  mischief,  that  the 
Duke  of  York  should  be  saved  and  alive,  was,  at 
the  first,  of  his  own  nourishing;  because  he 
would  have  more  reason  not  to  reign  in  the  right 
of  his  wife.  He  was  affable,  and  both  well  and 
fair-spoken;  and  would  use  strange  sweetness 
and  blandishments  of  words,  where  he  desired  to 
effect  or  persuade  any  thing  that  he  took  to  heart. 
He  was  rather  studious  than  learned ;  reading 
most  books  that  were  of  any  worth,  in  the  French 
tongue,  yet  he  understood  the  Latin,  as  appeareth 
in  that  Cardinal  Hadrian  and  others,  who  could 
very  well  have  written  French,  did  use  to  write 
to  him  in  Latin. 

For  his  pleasures,  tlvre  is  no  news  of  them; 
and  yet  by  his  instructions  to  Mars  in  and  Stile, 
touching  the  Queen  of  Naples,  it  seemeth  he  could 
interrogate  well  touching  beauty.  He  did  by 


384 


HISTORY  OF  KING  HENRY  VII. 


pleasures,  as  great  princes  do  by  banquets,  come 
and  look  a  little  upon  them,  and  turn  away.  For 
never  prince  was  more  wholly  given  to  his  affairs, 
nor  in  them  more  of  himself:  insomuch  as  in 
triumphs  of  justs  and  tourneys,  and  balls,  and 
masks,  which  they  then  called  disguises,  he  was 
rather  a  princely  and  gentle  spectator,  than  seemed 
much  to  be  delighted. 

No  doubt,  in  him,  as  in  all  men,  and  most  of 
all  in  kino's,  his  fortune  wrought  upon  his  nature, 
and  his  nature  upon  his  fortune.  He  attained  to 
the  crown,  not  only  from  a  private  fortune,  which 
might  endow  him  with  moderation ;  but  also  from 
the  fortune  of  an  exiled  man,  which  had  quickened 
in  him  all  seeds  of  observation  and  industry. 
And  his  times  being  rather  prosperous  than  calm, 
had  raised  his  confidence  by  success,  but  almost 
marred  his  nature  by  troubles.  His  wisdom,  by 
often  evading  from  perils,  was  turned  rather  into 
a  dexterity  to  deliver  himself  from  dangers,  when 
they  pressed  him,  than  into  a  providence  to  prevent 
and  remove  them  afar  off.  And  even  in  nature, 
the  sight  of  his  mind  was  like  some  sights  of  eyes ; 
rather  strong  at  hand,  than  to  carry  afar  off.  For 
his  wit  increased  upon  the  occasion  :  and  so  much 
the  more,  if  the  occasion  were  sharpened  by  danger. 
Again,  whether  it  were  the  shortness  of  his  fore 
sight,  or  the  strength  of  his  will,  or  the  dazzling 
of  his  suspicions,  or  what  it  was,  certain  it  is,  that 
the  perpetual  troubles  of  his  fortunes,  there  being 
no  more  matter  out  of  which  they  grew,  could  not 
have  been  without  some  great  defects  and  main 
errors  in  his  nature,  customs,  and  proceedings, 
which  he  had  enough  to  do  to  save  and  help  with 
a  thousand  little  industries  and  watches.  But 
those  do  best  appear  in  the  story  itself.  Yet  take 
him  with  all  his  defects,  if  a  man  should  compare 
him  with  the  kings  his  concurrents  in  France  and 
Spain,  he  shall  find  him  more  politic  than  Lewis 
the  Twelfth  of  France,  and  more  entire  and  sin 
cere  than  Ferdinando  of  Spain.  But  if  you  shall 
cnange  Lewis  the  Twelfth  for  Lewis  the  Eleventh 


who  lived  a  little  before,  then  the  consort  is  more 
perfect.  For  that  Lewis  the  Eleventh,  Ferdinan 
do,  and  Henry,  may  be  esteemed  for  the  "tres 
magi"  of  kings  of  those  ages.  To  conclude,  if 
this  king  did  no  greater  matters,  it  was  long  of 
himself:  for  what  he  minded  he  compassed. 

He  was  a  comely  personage,  a  little  above  just 
stature,  well  and  straight  limbed,  but  slender. 
His  countenance  was  reverend,  and  a  little  like  a 
churchman :  and  as  it  was  not  strange  or  dark,  so 
neither  was  it  winning  or  pleasing,  but  as  the  face 
of  one  well  disposed.  But  it  was  to  the  disad 
vantage  of  the  painter,  for  it  was  best  when  he 
spake. 

His  worth  may  bear  a  tale  or  two,  that  may  put 
upon  him  somewhat  that  may  seem  divine. 
When  the  Lady  Margaret,  his  mother,  had  divers 
great  suitors  for  marriage,  she  dreamed  one  night, 
that  one  in  the  likeness  of  a  bishop  in  pontifical 
habit  did  tender  her  Edmund,  Earl  of  Richmond, 
the  king's  father,  for  her  husband,  neither  had  she 
ever  any  child  but  the  king,  though  she  had  three 
husbands.  One  day  when  King  Henry  the  Sixth, 
whose  innocency  gave  him  holiness,  was  washing 
his  hands  at  a  great  feast,  and  cast  his  eye  upon 
King  Henry,  then  a  young  youth,  he  said  ;  »  This 
is  the  lad  that  shall  possess  quietly  that,  that  we 
now  strive  for."  But  that,  that  was  truly  divine 
in  him,  was  that  he  had  the  fortune  of  a  true 
Christian,  as  well  as  of  a  great  king,  in  living  ex 
ercised,  and  dying  repentant :  so  as  he  had  a 
happy  warfare  in  both  conflicts,  both  of  sin  and 
the  cross. 

He  was  bom  at  Pembroke  castle,  and  lieth 
buried  at  Westminster,  in  one  of  the  stateliest  and 
daintiest  monuments  of  Europe,  both  for  the  chapel 
and  for  the  sepulchre.  So  that  he  dwelleth  more 
richly  dead,  in  the  monument  of  his  tomb,  than 
he  did  alive  in  Richmond,  or  any  of  his  palaces. 
I  could  wish  he  did  the  like  in  this  monument  of 
his  fame. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  REIGN 


OF 


KING  HENRY  THE   EIGHTH. 


AFTER  the  decease  of  that  wise  and  fortunate 
King1,  Henry  the  Seventh,  who  died  in  the  height 
of  his  prosperity,  there  followed,  as  useth  to  do, 
when  the  sun  setteth  so  exceeding  clear,  one  of 
the  fairest  mornings  of  a  kingdom  that  hath  been 
known  in  this  land  or  anywhere  else.  A  young 
king,  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  for  stature, 
strength,  making,  and  beauty,  one  of  the  goodliest 
persons  of  his  time.  And  though  he  were  given 
to  pleasure,  yet  he  was  likewise  desirous  of  glory ; 
so  that  there  was  a  passage  open  in  his  mind,  by 
glory,  for  virtue.  Neither  was  he  unadorned 
with  learning,  though  therein  he  came  short  of  his 
brother  Arthur.  He  had  never  any  the  least 
pique,  difference,  or  jealousy  with  the  king  his 
father,  which  might  give  any  occasion  of  altering 
court  or  council  upon  the  change ;  but  all  things 
passed  in  a  still.  He  was  the  first  heir  of  the 
white  and  red  rose ;  so  that  there  was  no  discon 
tented  party  now  left  in  the  kingdom,  but  all  men's 
hearts  turned  towards  him :  and  not  only  their 
hearts,  but  their  eyes  also;  for  he  was  the  only 
son  of  the  kingdom.  He  had  no  brother ;  which 
though  it  be  a  comfortable  thing  for  kings  to  have, 
yet  it  draweth  the  subjects'  eyes  a  little  aside. 
And  yet  being  a  married  man  in  those  young 
years,  it  promised  hope  of  speedy  issue  to  succeed 
in  the  crown.  Neither  was  there  any  queen- 
mother,  who  might  share  any  way  in  the  govern 
ment,  or  clash  with  his  counsellors  for  authority, 
while  the  king  intended  his  pleasure.  No  such 


i  thing  as  any  great  and  mighty  subject,  who 
might  anywise  eclipse  or  overshade  the  imperial 
power.  And  for  the  people  and  state  in  general, 
they  were  in  such  lowness  of  obedience,  as  sub 
jects  were  like  to  yield,  who  had  lived  almost 
four-and-twenty  years  under  so  politic  a  king  as 
his  father ;  being  also  one  who  came  partly  by  the 
sword ;  and  had  so  high  courage  in  all  points  of 
regality ;  and  was  ever  victorious  in  rebellions 
and  seditions  of  the  people.  The  crown  extreme 
ly  rich,  and  full  of  treasure,  and  the  kingdom  like 
to  be  so  in  a  short  time.  For  there  was  no  war, 
no  dearth,  no  stop  of  trade,  or  commerce  :  it  was 
only  the  crown  which  had  sucked  too  hard,  and 
now  being  full,  and  upon  the  head  of  a  young 
king,  was  like  to  draw  less.  Lastly,  he  was  in 
heritor  of  his  father's  reputation,  which  was  great 
throughout  the  world.  He  had  strait  alliance 
with  the  two  neighbour  states,  an  ancient  enemy 
in  former  times,  and  an  ancient  friend,  Scotland 
and  Burgundy.  He  had  peace  and  amity  with 
France,  under  the  assurance,  not  only  of  treaty 
and  league,  but  of  necessity  and  inability  in  the 
French  to  do  him  hurt,  in  respect  that  the  French 
king's  designs  where  wholly  bent  upon  Italy :  so 
that  it  may  be  truly  said,  there  had  scarcely  been 
seen,  or  known,  in  many  ages,  such  a  rare  con 
currence  of  signs  and  promises,  of  a  happy  and 
flourishing  reign  to  ensue,  as  were  now  met  in  this 
young  king,  called  after  his  father's  name,  Henry 
the  Eighth 


VOL.  L— 49 


2K 


385 


THE  BEGINNING 


OF   THE 


HISTORY  OF   GREAT   BRITAIN 


BY  the  decease  of  Elizabeth,  Queen  of  England, 
the  issues  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth  failed, being 
spent  in  one  generation  and  three  successions. 
For  that  king,  though  he  were  one  of  the  goodliest 
persons  of  his  time,  yet  he  left  only  by  his  six 
wives  three  children;  who  reigning  successively, 
and  dying  childless,  made  place  to  the  line  of 
Margaret,  his  eldest  sister,  married  to  James  the 
Fourth,  King  of  Scotland,  descended  of  the  same 
Margaret  both  by  father  and  mother :  so  that  by 
a  rare  event  in  the  pedigrees  of  kings,  it  seemed 
as  if  the  divine  Providence,  to  extinguish  and 
take  away  all  envy  and  note  of  a  stranger,  had 
doubled  upon  his  person,  within  the  circle  of  one 
age,  the  royal  blood  of  England  by  both  parents. 
This  succession  drew  towards  it  the  eyes  of  all 
men,  being  one  of  the  most  memorable  accidents 
that  had  happened  a  long  time  in  the  Christian 
world.  For  the  kingdom  of  France  having  been 
reunited  in  the  age  before  in  all  the  provinces 
thereof  formerly  dismembered  :  and  the  kingdom 
of  Spain  being,  of  more  fresh  memory,  united 
and  made  entire,  by  the  annexing  of  Portugal  in 
the  person  of  Philip  the  Second ;  there  remained 
but  this  third  and  last  union,  for  the  counterpois 
ing  of  the  power  of  these  three  great  monarchies ; 
and  the  disposing  of  the  aifairs  of  Europe  thereby 
to  a  more  assured  and  universal  peace  and  concord. 
And  this  event  did  hold  men's  observations  and 
discourses  the  more,  because  the  island  of  Great 
Britain,  divided  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  was 
never  before  united  in  itself  under  one  king,  not 
withstanding  also  that  the  uniting  of  them  had 
been  in  former  times  industriously  attempted  both 
by  war  and  treaty.  Therefore  it  seemed  a  mani 
fest  work  of  providence,  and  a  case  of  reservation 
for  these  times ;  insomuch  that  the  vulgar  conceiv 
ed  that  now  there  was  an  end  given,  and  a  con 
summation  to  superstitious  prophecies,  the  belief 
of  fools,  but  the  talk  sometimes  of  wise  men,  and 
to  an  ancient  tacit  expectation,  which  had  by  tra 
dition  been  infused  and  inveterated  into  men's 
minds.  But  as  the  best  divinations  and  predic 
tions  are  the  politic  and  probable  foresight  and 
386 


conjectures  of  wise  men,  so  in  this  matter  the  pro 
vidence  of  King  Henry  the  Seventh  was  in  all 
men's  mouths;  who  being  one  of  the  deepest  and 
most  prudent  princes  of  the  world,  upon  the  de 
liberation  concerning  the  marriage  of  his  eldest 
daughter  into  Scotland,  had,  by  some  speech  ut 
tered  by  him,  showed  himself  sensible  and  almost 
prescient  of  this  event. 

Neither  did  there  want  a  concurrence  of  divers 
rare  external  circumstances,  besides  the  virtues 
and  condition  of  the  person,  which  gave  great 
reputation  to  this  succession.  A  king  in  the 
strength  of  his  years,  supported  with  great  al 
liances  abroad,  established  with  royal  issue  at 
home,  at  peace  with  all  the  world,  practised  in  the 
regiment  of  such  a  kingdom,  as  might  rather  en 
able  a  king  by  variety  of  accidents,  than  corrupt 
him  with  affluence  or  vainglory;  and  one  that 
besides  his  universal  capacity  and  judgment,  was 
notably  exercised  and  practised  in  matters  of  re 
ligion  and  the  church:  which  in  these  times,  by 
the  confused  use  of  both  swords,  are  become  so 
intermixed  with  considerations  of  estate,  as  most 
of  the  counsels  of  sovereign  princes  or  republics 
depend  upon  them  :  but  nothing  did  more  fill 
foreign  nations  with  admiration  and  expectation 
of  his  succession,  than  the  wonderful,  and,  by 
them,  unexpected  consent  of  all  estates  and  sub 
jects  of  England,  for  the  receiving  of  the  king 
without  the  least  scruple,  pause,  or  question. 
For  it  had  been  generally  dispersed  by  the  fugi 
tives  beyond  the  seas,  who,  partly  to  apply  them 
selves  to  the  ambition  of  foreigners,  and  partly  to 
give  estimation  and  value  to  their  own  employ 
ments,  used  to  represent  the  state  of  England  in  a 
false  light,  that  after  Queen  Elizabeth's  decease 
there  must  follow  in  England  nothing  but  confu 
sions,  interreigns,  and  perturbations  of  estate, 
likely  far  to  exceed  the  ancient  calamities  of  the 
civil  wars  between  the  houses  of  Lancaster  and 
York,  by  how  much  more  the  dissensions  were 
like  to  be  more  mortal  and  bloody,  when  foreign 
competition  should  be  added  to  domestical,  and 
divisions  for  religion  to  matter  of  title  to  the  crown. 


HISTORY  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


387 


And  in  special,  Parsons  the  Jesuit,  under  a  dis 
guised  name,  had  not  long  before  published  an  ex 
press  treatise,  wherein,  whether  his  malice  made 
him  believe  his  own  fancies,  or  whether  he  thought 
it  the  fittest  way  to  move  sedition,  like  evil  spirits, 
which  seem  to  foretell  the  tempest  they  mean  to 
move,  he  laboured  to  display  and  give  colour  to 
all  the  vain  pretences  and  dreams  of  succession 
which  he  could  imagine ;  and  thereby  had  possess 
ed  many  abroad  that  knew  not  the  affairs  here  with 
those  his  vanities.  Neither  wanted  there  here 
within  this  realm,  divers  persons  both  wise  and  well 
affected,  who,  though  they  doubted  not  of  the  un 
doubted  right,  yet  setting  before  themselves  the 
waves  of  people's  hearts,  guided  no  less  by  sudden 
and  temporary  winds,  than  by  the  natural  course 
and  motion  of  the  waters,  were  not  with  out  fear  what 
might  be  the  event.  For  Queen  Elizabeth  being 
a  princess  of  extreme  caution,  and  yet  one  that 
loved  admiration  above  safety ;  and  knowing  the 
declaration  of  a  successor  might  in  point  of  safety 
be  disputable,  but  in  point  of  admiration  and  re 
spect  assuredly  to  her  disadvantage ;  had,  from 
the  beginning,  set  it  down  for  a  maxim  of  estate, 
to  impose  a  silence  touching  succession.  Neither 
was  it  only  reserved  as  a  secret  of  estate,  but  re 
strained  by  severe  laws,  that  no  man  should  pre 
sume  to  give  opinion,  or  maintain  argument  touch 
ing  the  same :  so,  though  the  evidence  of  right 
drew  all  the  subjects  of  the  land  to  think  one 
thing;  yet  the  fear  of  danger  of  law  made  no  man 
privy  to  other's  thought.  And  therefore  it  rejoiced 
all  men  to  see  so  fair  a  morning  of  a  kingdom, 
and  to  be  thoroughly  secured  of  former  apprehen 
sions  ;  as  a  man  that  awaketh  out  of  a  fearful 
dream.  But  so  it  was,  that  not  only  the  consent, 
but  the  applause  and  joy  was  infinite,  and  not  to 
be  expressed,  throughout  the  realm  of  England 
upon  this  succession :  whereof  the  consent,  no 
doubt,  may  be  truly  ascribed  to  the  clearness  of 
the  right;  but  the  general  joy,  alacrity,  and  gratu- 
lation,  were  the  effects  of  differing  causes.  For 
Queen  Elizabeth,  although  she  had  the  use  of 
many  both  virtues  and  demonstrations,  that  might 
draw  and  knit  unto  her  the  hearts  of  her  people  : 
yet  nevertheless  carrying  a  hand  restrained  in  gift, 
and  strained  in  points  of  prerogative,  could  not 
answer  the  votes  either  of  servants  or  subjects  to 
a  full  contentment;  especially  in  her  latter  days, 
when  the  continuance  of  her  reign,  which  extend 
ed  to  five-and-forty  years,  might  discover  in  peo 
ple  their  natural  desire  and  inclination  towards 
change :  so  that  a  new  court  and  a  new  reign 


were  not  to  many  unwelcome.  Many  were  glad, 
and  especially  those  of  settled  estate  and  fortune, 
that  the  fears  and  uncertainties  were  overblown, 
and  that  the  die  was  cast.  Others,  that  had  made 
their  way  with  the  king,  or  offered  their  service 
in  the  time  of  the  former  queen,  thought  now  the 
time  was  come  for  which  they  had  prepared  :  and 
generally  all  such  as  had  any  dependence  upon 
the  late  Earl  of  Essex,  who  had  mingled  the  ser 
vice  of  his  own  ends  with  the  popular  pretence  of 
advancing  the  king's  title,  made  account  their 
cause  was  amended.  Again,  such  as  might  mis 
doubt  they  had  given  the  king  any  occasion  of 
distaste,  did  contend  by  their  forwardness  and 
confidence,  to  show  it  was  but  their  fastness  to 
the  former  government,  and  that  those  affections 
ended  with  the  time.  The  papists  nourished  their 
hopes,  by  collating  the  case  of  the  papists  in  Eng 
land,  and  under  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  the  case  of 
the  papists  in  Scotland  under  the  king:  interpret 
ing  that  the  condition  of  them  in  Scotland  was 
the  less  grievous,  and  divining  of  the  king's 
government  here  accordingly :  besides  the  com 
fort  they  ministered  to  themselves  from  the  memo 
ry  of  the  queen  his  mother.  The  ministers,  and 
those  which  stood  for  the  presbytery,  thought 
their  cause  had  more  sympathy  with  the  discipline 
of  Scotland  than  the  hierarchy  of  England,  and  so 
took  themselves  to  be  a  degree  nearer  their  desires. 
Thus  had  every  condition  of  persons  some  con 
templation  of  benefit,  which  they  promised  them 
selves  ;  over-reaching,  perhaps,  according  to  the 
nature  of  hope,  but  yet  notwithout  some  probable 
ground  of  conjecture.  At  which  time  also  there 
came  forth  in  print  the  king's  book,  intituled, 
Baai\iKdv  Atipov :  containing  matter  of  instruction 
to  the  prince  his  son  touching  the  office  of  a  king; 
which  book  falling  into  every  man's  hand,  filled 
the  whole  realm,  as  with  a  good  perfume  or  in 
cense,  before  the  king's  coming  in;  for  being  ex 
cellently  written,  and  having  nothing  of  affecta 
tion,  it  did  not  only  satisfy  better  than  particular 
reports  touching  the  king's  disposition,  but  far 
exceeded  any  formal  or  curious  edict  or  declara 
tion,  which  could  have  been  devised  of  that  nature, 
wherewith  the  princes  in  the  beginning  of  their 
reigns  do  use  to  grace  themselves,  or  at  least  ex 
press  themselves  gracious  in  the  eyes  of  their 
people.  And  this  was  for  the  general  the  state 
and  constitution  of  men's  minds  upon  this  change ; 
the  actions  themselves  passed  in  this  manner. 

The  rest  is  wanting. 


OF  THE 


STATE   OF   EUROPE 


[WRITTEN  ABOUT  THE  YEAR  1580.] 


IN  the  consideration  of  the  present  state  of 
Christendom,  depending  on  the  inclinations  and 
qualities  of  the  princes,  governors  of  the  same, 
first  the  person  of  the  pope,  acknowledged  for 
supreme  of  the  princes  catholic,  may  be  brought 
forth. 

Gregory  XIII.,  of  the  age  of  seventy  years,  by 
surname  Boncompagno,  born  in  Bolonia,  of  the 
meanest  state  of  the  people,  his  father  a  shoe 
maker  by  occupation ;  of  no  great  learning  nor 
understanding,  busy  rather  in  practice,  than  de 
sirous  of  wars,  and  that  rather  to  further  the  ad 
vancement  of  his  son  and  his  house,  a  respect 
highly  regarded  of  all  the  popes,  than  of  any  in 
clination  of  nature,  the  which,  yet  in  these  years, 
abhorreth  not  his  secret  pleasures.  Howbeit,  two 
things  especially  have  set  so  sharp  edge  to  him, 
whereby  he  doth  bend  himself  so  vehemently 
against  religion.  The  one  is  a  mere  necessity,  the 
other  the  solicitation  of  the  King  of  Spain.  For 
if  we  consider  duly  the  estate  of  the  present  time, 
we  shall  find  that  he  is  not  so  much  carried  with 
the  desire  to  suppress  our  religion,  as  driven  with 
the  fear  of  the  downfall  of  his  own,  if  in  time  it 
be  not  upheld  and  restored. 

The  reasons  be  these :  He  seeth  the  King  of 
Spain  already  in  years,  and  worn  with  labour  and 
troubles,  that  there  is  little  hope  in  him  of  long 
life.  And  he  failing,  there  were  likely  to  ensue 
great  alterations  of  state  in  all  his  dominions, 
the  which  should  be  joined  with  the  like  in  reli 
gion,  especially  in  this  divided  time,  and  in  Spain, 
already  so  forward,  as  the  fury  of  the  Inquisition 
can  scarce  keep  in. 

In  France,  the  state  of  that  church  seemeth  to 
depend  on  the  sole  life  of  the  king  now  reigning, 
being  of  a  weak  constitution,  full  of  infirmities, 
not  likely  to  have  long  life,  and  quite  out  of  hope 
of  any  issue.  Of  the  Duke  of  Anjou  he  doth  not 
assure  himself;  besides  the  opinion  conceived  of 
the  weakness  of  the  complexion  of  all  that  race, 
giving  neither  hope  of  length  of  life  nor  of  child 
ren.  And  the  next  to  the  succession  make  al 
ready  profession  of  the  reformed  religion,  besides 
the  increase  thereof  daily  in  France ;  England  and 
388 


Scotland  are  already,  God  be  thanked,  quite  re- 
'ormed,  with  the  better  part  of  Germany.  And 
because  the  queen's  majesty  hath  that  reputation 
to  be  the  defender  of  the  true  religion  and  faith  ; 
against  her  majesty,  as  the  head  of  the  faithful, 
is  the  drift  of  all  their  mischiefs. 

The  King  of  Spain  having  erected,  in  his  con 
ceit,  a  monarchy,  wherein  seeking  reputation  in 
the  protection  of  religion,  this  conjunction  with 
the  pope  is  as  necessary  to  him  for  the  furtherance 
of  his  purposes,  as  to  the  pope  behoveful  for  the 
advancing  of  his  house,  and  for  his  authority ; 
the  King  of  Spain  having  already  bestowed  on 
the  pope's  son,  degree  of  title  and  of  office,  with 
great  revenues.  To  encourage  the  pope  herein, 
being  head  of  the  church,  they  set  before  him  the 
analogy  of  the  name  Gregory,  saying,  that  we 
were  first  under  a  Gregory  brought  to  the  faith, 
and  by  a  Gregory  are  again  to  be  reduced  to  the 
obedience  of  Rome. 

A  prophecy  likewise  is  found  out,  that  foretell- 
eth,  "the  dragon  sitting  in  the  chair  of  Peter, 
great  things  should  be  brought  to  pass." 

Thus  is  the  King  of  France  solicited  against 
those  of  the  religion  in  France;  the  emperor 
against  those  in  his  dominions;  divisions  set  in 
Germany ;  the  Low  Countries  miserably  oppress 
ed  ;  and  daily  attempts  against  her  majesty,  both 
by  force  and  practice ;  hereto  serve  the  semina 
ries,  where  none  are  now  admitted,  but  those 
who  take  the  oath  against  her  majesty. 

The  sect  of  the  Jesuits  are  special  instruments 
to  alienate  the  people  from  her  majesty,  sow  fac 
tion,  and  to  absolve  them  of  the  oath  of  obedi 
ence,  and  prepare  the  way  to  rebellion  and  revolt. 

Besides,  for  confirmation  of  their  own  religion, 
they  have  used  some  reformation  of  the  clergv» 
and  brought  in  catechizing. 

To  go  forth  with  the  Princes  of  Italy ,  next  in 
situation. 

The  great  Duke  of  Tuscany,  Francisco  de  Me 
dici,  son  to  Cosmo,  and  the  third  duke  of  that 
family  and  province ;  of  the  age  of  forty  years ;  of 


OF  THE  STATE  OF  EUROPE. 


380 


disposition  severe  and  sad,  rather  than  manly  and  j 
grave  ;  no  princely  port  or  behaviour  more  than 
a  great  justicer;  inclined  to  peace,  and  gathering 
money.  All  Tuscany  is  subject  unto  him,  where 
in  were  divers  commonwealths ;  whereof  the 
chief  were  Florence,  Siena,  and  Pisa,  Prato,  and 
Pistoia,  saving  Lucca,  and  certain  forts  on  the 
sea-coast,  held  by  the  King  of  Spain. 

He  retaineth  in  his  service  few,  and  they  stran 
gers,  to  whom  he  giveth  pensions.  In  all  his 
citadels  he  hath  garrison  of  Spaniards,  except  at 
Siena :  in  housekeeping  spendeth  little,  being  as 
it  were  in  pension,  agreeing  for  so  much  the  year 
with  a  citizen  of  Florence  for  his  diet:  he  has  a 
small  guard  of  Swissers,  and  when  he  rideth 
abroad  a  guard  of  forty  light-horsemen.  The  mi 
litia  of  his  country  amounteth  to  forty  thousand 
soldiers,  to  the  which  he  granteth  leave  to  wear 
their  weapons  on  the  holydays,  and  other  immu 
nities.  Besides,  he  entertaineth  certain  men  of 
arms,  to  the  which  he  giveth  seven  crowns  the 
month.  He  also  maintaineth  seven  galleys,  the 
which  serve  under  his  knights,  erected  by  his 
father  in  Pisa,  of  the  order  of  St.  Stephano :  of 
these  galleys  three  go  every  year  in  chase. 

His  common  exercise  is  in  distillations,  and  in 
trying  of  conclusions,  the  which  he  doth  exer 
cise  in  a  house  called  Cassino  in  Florence,  where 
he  spendeth  the  most  part  of  the  day ;  giving  ear 
in  the  mean  season  to  matters  of  affairs  and  con 
ferring  with  his  chief  officers.  His  revenues  are 
esteemed  to  amount  to  a  million  and  a  half  of 
crowns,  of  the  which  spending  half  a  million, 
he  layeth  up  yearly  one  million.  But  certainly 
he  is  the  richest  prince  in  all  Europe  of  coin. 
The  form  of  his  government  is  absolute,  depend 
ing  only  of  his  will  and  pleasure,  though  re 
taining  in  many  things  the  ancient  officers  and 
show.  But  those  magistrates  resolve  nothing 
without  his  express  directions  and  pleasure. 
Privy  council  he  useth  none,  but  reposeth  much 
his  trust  on  sound  secretaries,  and  conferreth 
chiefly  with  his  wife,  as  his  father  did  with  one  of 
his  secretaries.  For  matter  of  examinations,  one 
Corbolo  hath  the  especial  trust ;  he  doth  favour 
the  people  more  than  the  nobility,  because  they 
do  bear  an  old  grudge  to  the  gentlemen,  and  the 
people  are  the  more  in  number,  without  whom 
the  nobility  can  do  nothing.  One  thing  in  him 
giveth  great  contentment  to  the  subjects,  that  he 
vouchsafeth  to  receive  and  hear  all  their  petitions 
himself.  And  in  his  absence  from  Florence,  those 
that  have  suit  do  resort  to  the  offices,  and  there 
exhibit  their  bill  endorsed  ;  whereof  within  three 
days  absolute  answers  is  returned  them,  unless 
the  matter  be  of  great  importance,  then  have  they 
directions  how  to  proceed.  He  is  a  great  jus- 
ticer ;  and  for  the  ease  of  the  people,  and  to  have 
the  better  eye  over  justice,  hath  built  hard  by 
his  palace  a  fair  row  of  houses  for  all  offices  to 
gether  in  one  place. 


Two  years  sithence  he  married  la  Signora  Bi- 
anca,  his  concubine,  a  Venetian  of  Casa  Capelli. 
whereby  he  entered  straiter  amity  with  the  Vene 
tians  :  with  the  pope  he  had  good  intelligence, 
and  some  affinity  by  the  marriage  of  Signor  Ja- 
como,  the  pope's  son,  in  Casa  Sforza. 

To  the  emperor  he  is  allied,  his  first  wife  being 
the  Emperor  Maximilian's  sister. 

With  Spain  he  is  in  strait  league,  and  his 
mother  was  of  the  house  of  Toledo  ;  his  brother 
likewise,  D.  Pietro,  married  in  the  same  house. 
With  France  he  standeth  at  this  present  in  some 
misliking. 

With  Ferrara  always  at  jar,  as  with  all  the 
Dukes  of  Italy,  for  the  preseance  in  some  contro 
versy. 

All  his  revenues  arise  of  taxes  and  customs ;  his 
domains  are  very  small. 

He  hath  by  his  first  wife  one  son,  of  the  age 
of  four  or  five  years,  and  four  daughters  ;  he  hath 
a  base  child  by  this  woman,  and  a  base  brother, 
D.  Joanni,  sixteen  years  of  age,  of  great  ex 
pectation. 

Two  brothers,  D.  Pietro,  and  the  cardinal. 

The  Duke  of  Ferrara,  Alfonso  d'Este,  the  fifth 
duke,  now  about  forty  years  of  age  ;  his  first  wife 
Lucretia,  daughter  to  Cosmo  de  Medici,  whom 
they  say  he  poisoned ;  his  second,  daughter  to 
Ferdinand  the  emperor ;  his  third  wife,  now  liv 
ing,  Anne  daughter  to  the  Duke  of  Mantua.  He 
hath  no  child.  The  chief  cities  of  his  state  are 
Ferrara,  Modena,  and  Reggio  :  he  is  rich  in  money, 
growing  as  the  most  of  Italy,  of  exactions  ;  of  all 
the  princes  of  Italy  alone  inclineth  to  the  French  ; 
with  the  pope  hath  some  jar  about  the  passage  of 
a  river.  The  Venetians  and  he  fall  in  great  ha 
tred  ;  with  Florence  hath  enmity :  with  Lucca 
little  skirmishes  every  year  for  a  castle  he  build- 
eth  on  their  confines,  to  raise  a  great  toll  in 
a  strait  passage,  by  reason  of  his  mother,  a 
Guise. 

William,  of  the  house  of  Gonsaga,  the  third 
Duke  of  Mantua;  his  wife  Barbara,  daughter  to 
the  Emperor  Ferdinand,  by  whom  he  hath  a  son 
of  twenty-two  years  of  age,  and  a  daughter.  His 
son  is  called  Vincentio,  his  daughter  Anne,  mar 
ried  of  late  to  the  Duke  of  Ferrara;  his  son  like 
wise  married  a  year  sithence  to  the  Prince  of 
Parma's  daughter.  The  duke  his  self  very  de 
formed  and  crook-backed,  well  in  years,  Mont- 
ferrat  likewise  appertaineth  to  him.  Divers  cf  his 
house  have  pension  always,  and  serve  the  King 
of  Spain;  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  Nevers,  re- 
maineth  in  France.  He  only  seeketh  to  maintain 
his  estate  and  enrich  himself;  his  greatest  plea 
sure  is  in  horses  and  building. 

The  Duke  of  Urbin,  Francesco  Maria,  of  the 

i  house  of  Rovere,  the  second  of  that  name,  a  prmcb 

of  good  behaviour  and  witty.     In  his  state  are 

!  seven   reasonable   fair  cities ;   Pesaro,  AugubiG, 

1  Sinigaglia,  Fossombrone,  Sanleo,  Cagli,  Urbino, 

2K2 


390 


OF  THE  STATE  OF  EUROPE. 


Pesaro  and  Sinigaglia  are  fortresses  on  the  sea 
side,  Urbino  and  Sanleo  on  the  Appenine,  well 
fortified.  He  holdeth  three  provinces,  Monte- 
feltro,  Massa  Trebaria,  and  Vicariato  di  Mon- 
davio. 

There  hath  been  good  princes  and  valiant  of 
that  house,  not  so  great  exactors  as  the  rest  of  Italy, 
therefore  better  beloved  of  their  subjects,  which 
love  restored  their  house,  being  displaced  by  Pope 
Leo  X. 

His  wife  Leonora,  sister  to  the  Duke  of  Fer- 
rara,  by  whom  he  hath  no  children,  and  now  is 
divorced.  He  hath  two  sisters,  the  one  married 
to  the  Duke  of  Gravina,  the  other  to  the  Prince 
Bisignano,  and  a  third  is  to  marry,  whose  name  is 
Lavinia. 

Ottaviano,  first  Duke  of  Castro,  then  of  Came- 
rino,  and  after  of  Parma  and  Piacenza,  with  great 
trouble  restored  to  his  estate ;  now  is  aged,  and 
liveth  quietly :  his  wife  Marguerite,  daughter  to 
Charles  the  Fifth,  first  wife  to  Alexander  de  Me 
dici,  first  Duke  of  Florence.  He  hath  one  son 
called  Alexander,  now  general  for  the  King  of 
Spain  in  the  Low  Countries;  his  daughter  Vit- 
toria  was  mother  to  the  duke  of  Urbin. 

The  Cardinal  Farnese,  his  uncle,  of  great  credit 
in  that  college,  longtime  hath  aspired  to  be  pope, 
but  withstood  by  the  King  of  Spain  ;  on  whom 
though  now  that  house  depend,  yet  forgetteth  not, 
as  he  thinketh,  the  death  of  Pier  Lugi,  and  the  loss 
of  Parma  and  Piacenza  restored  to  their  house  by 
the  French. 

The  young  princes  of  Mirandola,  in  the  govern 
ment  of  their  mother  Fulvia  Correggio,  and  under 
the  protection  of  the  King  of  France,  who  main- 
taineth  there  a  garrison. 

The  Duke  of  Savoy,  Carlo  Emanuel,  a  young 
prince  of  twenty-one  years,  very  little  of  stature, 
but  well  brought  up  and  disposed.  His  territory 
is  the  greatest  of  any  Duke  of  Italy,  having  Pie- 
inont  beyond  the  Alps,  and  Savoy  on  this  side; 
divers  fair  towns  and  strongholds,  richly  left  of 
his  father,  who  was  accounted  a  very  wise  prince. 
This  duke,  as  is  thought,  is  advised  to  remain  al 
ways  indifferent  between  Spain  and  France,  being 
neighbour  to  them  both,  unless  some  accident  do 
counsel  him  to  declare  himself  in  behalf  of  either. 
Therefore  both  those  princes  go  about  by  marriage 
to  have  him  nearer  allied  to  them.  His  mother 
was  sister  to  King  Francis  the  Great :  his  father 
being  expulsed  his  dominions  by  the  French,  was 
restored  by  the  King  of  Spain,  with  whom  while 
he  lived  he  had  strait  intelligence.  As  yet  his 
inclination  doth  not  appear,  he  retaineth  his  fa 
ther's  alliances  with  Venice,  especially  in  Italy, 
and  with  the  emperor.  With  Florence  he  hath 
question  for  pre-eminence. 

His  revenues  are  judged  to  be  a  million  of 
crowns  yearly;  now  he  is  in  arms  against  Geneva, 
and  guarded  against  Bern. 

Of  free  estates,  Lucca,  the  least,  is  under  the 


protection  of  the  King  of  Spain :  small  in  ter 
ritory  :  the  city  itself  well  fortified  and  provided, 
because  of  the  doubt  they  have  of  the  Duke  of 
Florence. 

Genoa  is  recommended  to  the  King  of  Spain, 
their  galleys  serve  under  him,  and  the  chiefest  of 
their  city  are  at  his  devotion.  Though  there  is  a 
faction  for  the  French,  whereto  he  doth  hearken 
so  weakly,  that  the  Spaniard  is  there  all  in  all ; 
by  whom  that  state  in  few  years  hath  made  a 
marvellous  gain.  And  the  King  of  Spain  hath 
great  need  of  their  friendship  for  their  ports, 
where  embark  and  land  all  men,  and  whatsoever 
is  sent  between  Spain  and  Milan. 

They  hold  Corsica,  an  island,  and  Savonaa  fair 
city,  and  the  goodliest  haven  in  Italy,  until  it  was 
destroyed  by  the  Genevois ;  the  which  now  make 
no  profession  but  of  merchandise. 

There  is  a  dangerous  faction  amongst  them,  be 
tween  the  ancient  houses  and  the  new,  which  were 
admitted  into  the  ancient  families. 

St.  George  is  their  treasure-house  and  receiver, 
as  at  Venice,  St.  Mark. 

Venice,  retaining  still  the  ancient  form  of  go 
vernment,  is  always  for  itself  in  like  estate  and 
all  one ;  at  this  time  between  the  Turk  and  the 
King  of  Spain,  in  continual  watch,  seeming  to 
make  more  account  of  France,  so  much  in  hope 
of  any  great  affiance  at  this  present  to  be  had  in 
him,  but  for  the  reputation  of  that  nation,  and  the 
amity  always  they  have  had  with  the  same,  and 
behoving  them  so  to  do.  They  use  it  with  good 
foresight  and  speedy  preventing,  sparing  for  no 
charge  to  meet  as  they  may  with  every  accident. 
Of  late  they  have  had  some  jar  with  the  pope,  as 
well  about  the  Inquisition  as  title  of  land.  With 
Ferrara  and  the  Venetians  is  ancient  enmity, 
specially  because  he  receiveth  all  their  banished 
and  fugitives.  They  make  most  account  of  the 
Duke  of  Savoy  amongst  the  Princes  of  Italy. 
They  maintain  divers  ambassadors  abroad,  with 
the  Turk,  the  emperor,  France,  Spain,  and  at 
Rome;  with  them  is  an  ambassador  of  France 
and  Savoy,  always  resident,  and  an  agent  of 
Spain,  because  they  gave  the  preseance  to  France. 

In  this  it  seemeth  all  the  potentates  of  Italy 
do  agree  to  let  all  private  grudges  give  place  to 
foreign  invasion,  more  for  doubt  of  alteration  in 
religion,  than  for  any  other  civil  cause. 

There  is  none  amongst  them  at  this  day  in  any 
likelihood  to  grow  to  any  greatness.  For  Venice 
is  bridled  by  the  Turk  and  Spain.  The  Duke  of 
Tuscany  seeketh  rather  title  than  territory,  other 
wise  than  by  purchasing. 

Savoy  is  yet  young ;  the  rest  of  no  great  force 
of  themselves.  France  hath  greatly  lost  the 
reputation  they  had  in  Italy,  by  neglecting  the 
occasions  offered,  and  suffering  the  King  of  Spain 
to  settle  himself. 

The  Emperor  Adolphe,  of  the  house  of  Aus- 
triche,  son  to  Maximilian,  about  thirty  years  o-t' 


OF  THE  STATE  OF  EUROPE. 


391 


age ;  no  strong;  constitution  of  body,  and  greatly 
weakened  by  immoderate  pleasure ;  no  great 
quickness  of  spirit.  In  fashion  and  apparel  all 
Spanish,  where  he  had  his  education  in  his  youth. 
He  was  most  governed  by  his  mother  while  she 
remained  with  him;  and  yet  altogether  by  his 
steward  Dyetristan,  and  his  great  chamberlain 
Romphe,  both  pensionaries  of  Spain,  and  there 
with  him  maintained. 

Of  the  empire  he  hath,  by  the  last  imperial 
diet,  one  million  of  dollars  towards  the  mainte 
nance  of  the  garrisons  of  Hungary;  and,  besides, 
his  guards  are  paid  of  the  empire. 

To  the  Turk  he  payeth  yearly  tribute  for  Hun 
gary  forty  thousand  dollars,  besides  the  charge  of 
the  presents  and  his  ambassadors,  amounting  to 
more  than  the  tribute ;  in  all  one  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars. 

The  ordinary  garrisons  in  Hungary  are  to  the 
number  of  but  evil  paid  at  this  time. 

The  revenues  and  subsidies  of  Hungary  do  not 
pass  one  hundred  thousand  florins.  The  last 
emperor  affirmed  solemnly  that  the  charge  of 
Hungary  amounted  to  one  million  and  a  half. 

The  revenues  of  Bohemia,  ordinary  and  extra 
ordinary,  amount  to  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

In  the  absence  of  the  emperor,  the  Baron  of 
Rosemberg  is  Governor  of  Bohemia,  who  possess- 
eth  almost  a  fourth  part  of  that  country,  and  is 
a  Papist ;  neither  he  nor  his  brother  have  children : 
he  beareth  the  emperor  in  hand  to  make  him  his 
heir. 

Of  Silesia  and  Moravia,  the  emperor  yearly 
may  have  two  hundred  thousand  florins. 

Out  of  Austriche  of  subsidy  and  tribute,  one 
hundred  thousand  florins,  for  his  domains  are  all 
sold  away  and  engaged. 

Thus  all  his  revenues  make  half  a  million  of 
florins. 

To  his  brothers  Maximilian  and  Ernest  he 
alloweth  yearly,  by  agreement  made  between 
them,  forty-five  thousand  florins  apiece,  as  well 
for  Austriche,  as  that  might  hereafter  fall  unto 
them  by  the  decease  of  the  Archduke  Ferdinand 
in  Tyrol,  the  which  shall  come  to  the  emperor. 

The  emperor  altogether  dependeth  on  Spain, 
as  well  in  respect  of  his  house,  as  the  education 
he  received  there,  and  the  rule  his  mother  hath 
over  him  with  the  chief  of  his  council.  He  is 
utter  enemy  to  religion,  having  well  declared  the 
same  in  banishing  the  ministers  out  of  Vienna, 
and  divers  other  towns,  where  he  goeth  about  to 
plant  Jesuits. 

Of  his  subjects  greatly  misliked,  as  his  house 
is  hateful  to  all  Germany. 

The  Archduke  Charles  holdeth  Styria  and 
Carinthia;  his  chief  abode  is  at  Gratz;  his  wife 
is  sister  to  the  Duke  of  Bavyre,  by  whom  he 
hath  children. 

The  Archduke  Ferdinand  hath  Tyrol,  and  re- 
maineth  the  most  part  at  Ilsburg.  For  his  eldest 


son  he  hath  bought  in  Germany  a  pretty  state, 
not  far  from  Ulms ;  the  second  is  a  cardinal. 
Now  he  is  a  widower,  and  said  that  he  shall 
marry  a  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Mantua. 

These  are  uncles  to  the  emperor;  besides 
Maximilian  and  Ernest,  he  hath  two  brothers, 
the  Archduke  Matthias,  that  hath  a  pension  of 
the  estates  of  the  Low  Country,  and  a  Cardinal 
Archbishop  of  Toledo. 

In  Germany  there  arc  divers  princes  diversely 
affected.  The  Elector  Palatine  Ludovic,  a  Lu 
theran  ;  his  chief  abode  is  at  Heidelberg. 

His  brother,  John  Casimir,  Calvinist,  at 
Keiserslautern,  or  Nieustadt. 

Richard,  their  uncle,  at  Symyers. 

During  the  life  of  the  last  elector,  Ludovic 
dwelt  at  Amberg  in  the  Higher  Palatinate. 

Philip  Ludovic  dwelt  at  Norbourg  on  the 
Danow,  and  is  commonly  called  duke  of. 

John  dwelleth  at  Rypont,  or  Sweybourgh,  or  in 
Bergesaber;  the  other  three  brethren  have  no 
certain  dwelling-place.  George  John,  son  of 
Rupert,  Count  Palatine,  dwelleth  at  Lysselsteyn. 

Augustus,  Duke  and  Elector  of  Saxony,  re- 
maineth  the  most  part  at  Dresden  on  the  Elbe ; 
sometimes  at  Torge  on  Elbe,  a  goodly  castle  for 
tified  by  John  Frederick.  This  elector  is  Lu 
theran,  and  a  great  enemy  to  our  profession ;  of 
sixty  j^ears  of  age,  half  frantic,  severe,  governed 
much  by  his  wife,  greater  exactor  than  the  Ger 
man  princes  are  wont  to  be,  and  retaineth  in  his 
service  divers  Italians  ;  his  eldest  son  married  of 
late  the  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Brandebourg. 

The  sons  of  John  Frederick,  captive,  and  yet  in 
prison,  remain  at  Coburge  in  East  Franconia,  near 
the  forest  of  Turinge. 

The  sons  of  John  William  abide  at  Vinaria  in 
Turingia. 

Joachim  Frederick,  son  of  John  George,  Elector 
of  Brandebourg,  at  Hala,  in  Saxony,  on  the  river 
of  Sala,  as  administrator  of  the  Archbishopric 
of  Magdebourg. 

George  Frederick,  son  of  George,  dwelleth  at 
Orsbuche  in  East  Franconia,  or  at  Blassenbourge, 
the  which  was  the  mansion  of  his  uncle  Albert 
the  warrior. 

The  Elector  of  Brandebourg,  John  George,  re- 
maineth  at  Berlin  on  the  river  of  Sprea :  his  uncle 
John  dwelleth  at  Castryne,  beyond  Odera,  very 
strong  both  by  the  situation,  and  fortified. 

William,  Duke  of  Bavyre,  a  Papist,  at  Munich 
in  Bavary,  married  the  daughter  of  the  Duke  of 
Lorrain. 

His  second  brother  Ferdinand  remaineth  most 
at  Landshutt. 

The  third,  Ernest,  is  Bishop  of  Frishinghen 
and  Hildesheim,  and  late  of  Liege. 

Julius,  Duke  of  Brunswick,  at  the  strong  castle 
of  Wolfenbuttel  on  Oker. 

Ericke  of  Brunswick,  son  to  Magnus,  uncle  to 
Julius,  remaineth  at  Mynda,  or  where  the  rivers 


392 


OF  THE  STATE  OF  EUROPE, 


of  Werra  and  Fulda  do  join,  making  the  river  of 
Visurgis  navigable. 

William,  Duke  of  Luneburg  hath  his  being  a 
Cella,  on  the  River  Albera. 

Henry  his  brother  at  Gryson,  where,  before 
their  uncle  Francis  was  wont  to  dwell. 

Otho,  their  cousin,  Duke  of  Luneburg,  inhabit 
eth  Harbourg,  on  this  side  the  Elbe,  over-righ 
against  Hamburgh. 

The  Dukes  of  Pomerania,  John  Frederick  dwell 
eth  at  Stetin. 

Bugeslaus  at  Campena,  some  time  an  abbey  ii 
the  county  of  Bardruse. 

Ernest  Ludovick  at  Wolgast,  on  the  river  of 
Panis  that  runneth  into  the  Baltic  sea. 

Barmin  at  Ragenwald  in  Further  Pomerania, 
on  the  borders  of  Poland  and  Prussia. 

Casimire  at  Camyn,  which  bishopric  he  hold- 
eth,  either  as  administrator,  or  in  his  own  posses 
sion  and  right. 

Ulricke,  Duke  of  Meckelbourg,  remaineth  most 
at  Gustrow ;  his  brother  John  Albert  dwelleth  at 
Swerin,  whose  two  sons  are  in  the  court  of  the 
Duke  of  Saxon. 

Adolph,  Duke   of  Hoist  and  Dytmarch;  1 
chief  seat  is  at  Gottorp  in  the  Duchy  of  Sles- 
wick. 

John,  his  elder  brother,  unmarried,  hath  his 
•abode  at  Hadersburge :  John,  son  to  Christiern, 
King  of  Denmark,  and  brother  to  the  Duke  of 
Hoist,  and  to  Frederick  now  King  of  Denmark, 
Bishop  of  Oeselya  and  Courland  in  Livonia. 

William,  Duke  of  Juliers,  Cleve,  and  Bergin, 
hath  his  court  at  Dusseldorp  in  the  Dukedom  of 
Bergense. 

William,  Landgrave  of  Hesse,  dwelleth  at  Cas- 
sel  on  Fulda. 

Ludovick  at  Marpurge. 
Philip  at  Brubache  on  the  Rhine. 
George  at  Darmstadt. 

Ludovick,  Duke  of  Wlrtenberge,  his  chief 
house  at  Stutgard. 

Frederick  at  Montbelgard. 
The  Marquises  of  Bathe:  the  elder  Ernest,  the 
second  Jacob,  the  third  brother  yet  younger ;  their 
chief  dwelling-place  is  at  Forsheim,  or  at  Dur- 
lach. 

The  sons  of  Philip  at  the  Bath  called  Badan. 
Earnest  Joachim,  prince  of  Anhalt,  at  Zerbest, 
in  the  midway  between  Magdebourg  and  Wittem- 
berg ;  his  other  mansion  is  at  Dessau  on  Mylda, 
where  he  was  born,  new  built  and  fortified  by  his 
grandfather  Ernest;  he  hath  besides  the  castle  of 
Cathenen,  the  which  was  the  habitation  of  Wolf 
gang,  Prince  of  Anhalt,  his  great  uncle ;  Ernest 
favotireth  religion. 

George  Ernest,  Prince  and  Earl  of  Henneberg, 
at  Schlewsing,  by  the  forest  called  Turing. 

George,  Duke  of  Silesia  and  Brieke,  of  the 
family  of  the  Kings  of  Poland,  dwelleth  at  Brieke ; 
iiis  eldest  son,  Joachim  Frederick,  hath  married 


the  daughter  of  the  Prince  of  Anhalt;  his  second 
son,  John  George. 

Henry,  Duke  of  Silesia  and  Lignitz,  son  to  the 
brother  of  George,  dwelleth  at  Lignitz ;  he  hath 
no  children  alive. 

Frederick,  brother  to  Henry,  unmarried. 

Charles,  Duke  of  Munsterburg  and  Olsse,  his 
wife  the  Countess  of  Sternberg,  in  Bohemia,  where 
he  maketh  his  abode. 

Henry,  brother  to  Charles,  remained  at  Olsse. 

John  Frederick,  Duke  of  Teschen. 

Charles,  Duke  of  Lorrain,  his  chief  court  at 
Nancy. 

His  eldest  son  Henry  of  man's  estate. 

Charles,  Cardinal  Archbishop  of  Metes. 

A  daughter  in  the  French  court. 

Besides,  there  are  in  Germany  three  electors 
bishops,  and  divers  bishops  of  great  livings. 

The  free  towns  of  greatest  importance  are  No- 
remberg,  Auspurg,  Ulmes,  and  Strasburg :  then  the 
cantons  of  the  Swisses,  the  Grisons,  and  Valois. 

The  greatest  trouble  in  Germany  at  this  time  is 
about  the  concordate,  furthered  by  the  Duke  of 
Saxon,  and  the  Count  Palatine. 

There  is  at  this  present  no  prince  in  Germany 
greatly  toward  or  redoubted. 

The  Duke  Casimir's  credit  is  greatly  impaired, 
and  his  ability  small. 

The  diet  imperial  shortly  should  be  held,  where 
the  concordate  shall  be  urged,  collection  for  Hun 
gary  made,  and  a  King  of  Romans  named. 

The  French  king,  Henry  the  Third,  of  thirty 
years  of  age,  of  a  very  weak  constitution,  and  full 
of  infirmities  ;  yet  extremely  given  over  to  his 
wanton  pleasures,  having  only  delight  in  dancing, 
feasting,  and  entertaining  ladies,  and  chamber- 
pleasures  :  no  great  wit,  yet  a  comely  behaviour 
and  goodly  personage,  very  poor  through  exact- 
ng  inordinately  by  all  devices  of  his  subjects 
greatly  repining  that  revenge  and  hungry  govern 
ment,  abhorring  wars  and  all  action,  yet  daily 
worketh  the  luin  of  those  he  hateth,  as  all  of  the 
religion  and  the  house  of  Bourbon ;  doting  fondly 
on  some  he  chooseth  to  favour  extremely,  without 
any  virtue  or  cause  of  desert  in  them,  to  wrhom 

giveth  prodigally.  His  chief  favourites  now 
about  him  are  the  Duke  Joyeuse,  La  Valette,  and 
Monsieur  D'Au.  The  queen-mother  nil  eth  him 
•ather  by  policy  and  fear  he  hath  of  her,  than  by 
lis  good  will:  yet  he  always  doth  show  great 
everence  towards  her.  The  Guise  is  in  as  great 
avour  with  him  as  ever  he  was ;  the  house  is  now 
he  greatest  of  all  France,  being  allied  to  Ferrara, 
savoy,  Lorrain,  Scotland,  and  favoured  of  all  the 
Dapists ;  the  French  king  having  his  kinswoman 
o  wife,  and  divers  great  personages  in  that  realm 
f  his  house. 

The  chiefest  at  this  present  in  credit  in  court, 
/hose  counsel  he  useth,  are  Villeroy,  Villaquier, 
Bellievre,  the  chancellor  and  lord  keeper,  Birague 
nd  Chiverny. 


OF  THE  STATE  OF  EUROPE. 


393 


He  greatly  entertaineth  no  amity  with  any 
prince,  other  than  for  form ;  neither  is  his  friend 
ship  otherwise  respected  of  others,  save  in  respect 
of  the  reputation  of  so  great  a  kingdom. 

The  pope  beareth  a  great  sway,  and  the  king 
of  Spain  by  means  of  his  pensions ;  and  of  the 
queen-mother  with  the  Guise;  she  for  her  two 
daughters,  he  for  other  regard,  can  do  what  he  list 
there,  or  hinder  what  he  would  not  have  done. 

The  division  in  his  country  for  matters  of  reli 
gion  and  state,  through  miscontentment  of  the  no 
bility  to  see  strangers  advanced  to  the  greatest 
charges  of  the  realm,  the  offices  of  justice  sold, 
the  treasury  wasted,  the  people  polled,  the  coun 
try  destroyed,  hath  bred  great  trouble,  and  like  to 
see  more.  The  faction  between  the  house  of 
Guise  against  that  of  Montmorancy  hath  gotten 
great  advantage. 

At  this  present  the  king  is  about  to  restore  Don 
Antonio,  King  of  Portugal,  whereto  are  great 
levies  and  preparation. 

Francis,  Duke  of  Anjou  and  of  Brabant,  for  his 
calling  and  quality  greatly  to  be  considered  as 
any  prince  this  day  living,  being  second  person 
to  the  king,  his  brother,  and  in  likelihood  to  suc 
ceed  him.  There  is  noted  in  the  disposition  of 
this  prince  a  quiet  mildness,  giving  satisfaction 
to  all  men  ;  facility  of  access  and  natural  courte 
sy  ;  understanding  and  speech  great  and  eloquent ; 
secrecy  more  than  commonly  is  in  the  French ; 
from  his  youth  always  desirous  of  action,  the 
which  thing  hath  made  him  always  followed  and 
respected.  And  though  hitherto  he  hath  brought 
to  pass  no  great  purpose,  having  suffered  great 
wants  and  resistance  both  at  home  and  abroad, 
yet  by  the  intermeddling  is  grown  to  good  ex 
perience,  readiness,  and  judgment  the  better 
thereby  able  to  guide  and  govern  his  affairs, 
both  in  practice,  in  treaty,  and  action.  Moreover, 
the  diseased  estate  of  the  world  doth  so  concur 
with  this  his  active  forwardness,  as  it  giveth  him 
matter  to  work  upon :  and  he  is  the  only  man  to  be 
seen  of  all  them  in  distress,  or  desirous  of  altera 
tion.  A  matter  of  special  furtherance  to  all  such 
as  have  achieved  great  things,  when  they  have 
found  matter  disposed  to  receive  form. 

And  there  is  to  be  found  no  other  prince  in  this 
part  of  the  world  so  towards  and  forward  as  the 
duke,  towards  whom  they  in  distress  may  turn 
their  eyes.  We  do  plainly  see  in  the  most  coun 
tries  of  Christendom  so  unsound  and  shaken  an 
estate,  as  desireth  the  help  of  some  great  person, 
to  set  together  and  join  again  the  pieces  asunder 
and  out  of  joint.  Wherefore  the  presumption  is 
great,  that  if  this  prince  continue  this  his  course, 
he  is  likely  to  become  a  mighty  potentate :  for, 
one  enterprise  failing,  other  will  be  offered,  and 
still  men  evil  at  ease,  and  desirous  of  a  head  and 
captain,  will  run  to  him  that  is  fittest  to  receive 
them.  Besides,  the  French,  desirous  to  shake  off 
the  civil  wars,  must  needs  attempt  somewhat 

VOL.  I.— 50 


abroad.  This  duke  first  had  intelligence  with  the 
CountLudovicin  King  Charles's  days,  and  an  en 
terprise  to  escape  from  the  court,  and  in  this  king's 
time  joined  with  them  of  the  religion  and  malcon 
tents  :  after  was  carried  against  them  ;  seeketh 
the  marriage  with  her  majesty,  so  mighty  a 
princess,  as  it  were  to  marry  might  with  his  ac 
tivity. 

He  hath  had  practice  in  Germany  to  be  created 
King  of  Romans,  made  a  sudden  voyage  with  great 
expedition  into  the  Low  Countries,  now  is  there 
again  with  better  success  than  so  soon  was  looked 
for. 

The  King  of  Spain,  Philip,  son  to  Charles  the 
Fifth,  about  sixty  years  of  age,  a  prince  of  great 
understanding,  subtle  and  aspiring,  diligent  and 
cruel.  This  king  especially  hath  made  his  benefit 
of  the  time  where  his  last  attempt  on  Portugal  de- 
serveth  exact  consideration,  thereby  as  by  the 
workmanship  to  know  the  master. 

The  first  success  he  had  was  at  St.  Quintin, 
where  he  got  a  notable  hand  of  the  French ;  he 
sought  to  reduce  the  Low  Countries  to  an  abso 
lute  subjection. 

He  hath  kept  France  in  a  continual  broil, 
where,  by  his  pensions  and  the  favour  of  the 
house  of  Guise,  by  means  of  the  queen-mother  in 
contemplation  of  her  nieces,  he  beareth  great 
sway.  With  the  pope  he  is  so  linked  as  he  may 
do  what  him  list,  and  dispose  of  that  authority  to 
serve  his  purposes  :  as  he  has  gotten  great  au 
thority  in  pretending  to  protect  the  church  and 
religion. 

He  possesseth  the  one  half  of  Italy,  comprehend 
ing  Sicily  and  Sardinia,  with  Naples  and  Milan ; 
the  which  estates  do  yield  him  little  other  profit, 
save  the  maintenance  of  so  many  Spaniards  as  he 
keepeth  there  always. 

The  Duke  of  Florence  relieth  greatly  upon 
him,  as  well  in  respect  of  the  state  of  Siena,  as  of 
the  ports  he  holdeth,  and  of  his  greatness.  Lucca 
is  under  his  protection.  Genoa,  the  one  faction 
at  his  devotion,  with  their  galleys  :  at  his  pension 
is  most  of  the  greatest  there. 

Besides  the  Low  Countries,  he  holdeth  the 
French  Comte,  the  best  used  of  all  his  subjects, 
and  Luxembourg:  the  West  Indies  furnish  him 
gold  and  silver,  the  which  he  consumeth  in  the 
wars  of  the  Low  Countries,  and  in  pensions,  and 
is  greatly  indebted  ;  while  he  worketh  on  the  foun 
dation  his  father  laid,  to  erect  a  monarchy,  the 
which,  if  he  succeed  in  the  conquest  of  Portugal, 
he  is  likely  to  achieve,  unless  death  do  cut  him  off. 

He  hath  one  son  of  the  years  of  five  by  his  last 
wife,  two  daughters  by  the  French  king's  sister, 
two  base  sons. 

He  hath  greatly  sought  the  marriage  of  the 
queen's  daughter  of  France,  sister  to  his  last  wife, 
and  cousin-german  removed. 

His  revenues  are  reckoned  to  amount  to  sixteen 
millions. 


394 


OF  THE  STATE  OF  EUROPE. 


The  chief  in  credit  with  him  of  martial  men  and 
for  counsel  are  .... 

He  maketh  account  to  have  in  continual  pay 
fifty  thousand  soldiers. 

He  maintaineth  galleys  to  the  number  of  one 
hundred  and  forty,  whereof  there  are  sixty  in  Por 
tugal,  the  rest  are  at  Naples  and  other  places.  Now 
is  on  league  with  the  Turk. 

D.  Antonio,  elect  King  of  Portugal,  thrust  out 
by  the  King  of  Spain,  of  forty-five  years  of  age,  a 
mild  spirit,  sober  and  discreet:  he  is  now  in 
France,  where  he  he  hath  levied  soldiers,  whereof 
part  are  embarked,  hoping  by  the  favour  of  that 
king  and  the  good  will  the  Portugals  do  bear  him, 
to  be  restored  again.  He  holdeth  the  Torges,  and 
the  East  Indians  yet  remain  well  affected  to  him, 
a  cause  of  itself  deserving  the  considering  and  re 
lief  of  all  other  princes.  Besides  in  his  person, 
his  election  to  be  noted  with  the  title  he  claimeth 
very  singular,  and  seldom  the  like  seen,  being 
chosen  of  all  the  people ;  the  great  dangers  he 
hath  escaped  likewise  at  sundry  times. 

The  King  of  Poland,  Stephen  Batoaye,  a  Baron 
of  Hungary,  by  the  favour  of  the  Turk  chosen 
King  of  the  Pollacks,  after  the  escape  made  by 
the  French  king;  a  prince  of  the  greatest  value 
and  courage  of  any  at  this  day,  of  competent 
years,  sufficient  wisdom,  the  which  he  hath 
showed  in  the  siege  of  Danske,  and  the  wars 
with  the  Muscovite. 

The  Hungarians  could  be  content  to  exchange 
the  emperor  for  him.  The  Bohemians  likewise 
wish  him  in  the  stead  of  the  other.  He  were 
like  to  attain  to  the  empire  were  there  not  that 
mortal  enmity  between  those  two  nations  as  could 
not  agree  in  one  subjection. 

Straight  upon  his  election  he  married  the  In 
fant  of  Poland,  somewhat  in  years  and  crooked, 
only  to  content  the  Pollacks,  but  never  companied 
with  her.  He  doth  tolerate  there  all  religions, 
himself  heareth  the  mass,  but  is  not  thought  to 
be  a  Papist :  he  had  a  great  part  of  his  education 
in  Turkey,  *fter  served  the  last  emperor. 

Frederick  the  Second,  of  forty-eight  years, 
King  of  Denmark  and  Norway ;  his  wife  Sophia, 
daughter  to  Ulricke,  Duke  of  Mechelebourg,  by 
whom  he  hath  six  children,  four  daughters  and 
two  sons,  Christianus  and  Ulricus,  the  eldest  of 
five  years  of  age. 

The  chiefest  about  him,  Nicolas  Cose,  his 
chancellor,  in  whose  counsel  he  doth  much 
repose. 

He  hath  always  eight  hundred  horse  about  his 
coult,  to  whom  he  giveth  ten  dollars  the  month. 


His  father  deceased  in  the  year  1559,  after 
which  he  had  wars  ten  years  space  with  the 
Swede,  which  gave  him  occasion  to  arm  by  sea. 
His  navy  is  six  great  ships  of  one  thousand  five 
hundred  ton,  and  fifteen  smaller,  ten  galleys  which 
sail  to  pass  the  Straits. 

His  revenues  grow  chiefly  in  customs,  and 
such  living  as  were  in  the  hands  of  the  abbeys, 
and  bishops,  whereby  he  is  greatly  enriched :  his 
chief  haven  is  Copenhagen,  where  always  his 
navy  lieth. 

His  brother  John,  Duke  of  Hoist  in  Jutland, 
married  to  the  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Inferior 
Saxony. 

Magnus,  his  other  brother,  Bishop  of  Courland, 
married  the  daughter  of  the  Muscovite's  brother. 

The  chiefest  wars  that  the  King  of  Denmark 
hath  is  with  Sweden,  with  whom  now  he  hath 
peace.  The  Duke  of  Hoist  is  uncle  to  the  king 
now  reigning;  they  make  often  alliances  with 
Scotland. 

John,  King  of  Sweden,  son  of  Gustavus. 

This  Gustavus  had  four  sons,  Erick,  John, 
Magnus,  Charles. 

Erick  married  a  soldier's  daughter,  by  whom 
he  had  divers  children,  and  died  in  prison. 

John,  now  king,  married  the  sister  of  Sigis- 
mond,  late  King  of  Poland. 

Magnus  bestraught  of  his  wits. 

Charles  married  a  daughter  of  the  Palsgrave. 

Five  daughters  of  Gustavus. 

Katherine  married  to  the  Earl  of  East-Frise- 
land. 

Anne  to  one  of  the  Palsgraves. 

Cicilia  to  the  Marquis  of  Baden. 

Sophia  to  the  Duke  of  Inferior  Saxony. 

Elizabeth  to  the  Duke  of  Mecleburg. 

This  prince  is  of  no  great  force  nor  wealth,  but 
of  late  hath  increased  his  navigation,  by  reason  of 
the  wars  between  him  and  the  Dane,  the  which, 
the  wars  ceasing,  they  hardly  maintain. 

The  Muscovite  Emperor  of  Russia,  John  Basil, 
of  threescore  years  of  age,  in  league  and  amity 
with  no  prince;  always  at  wars  with  the  Tarta- 
rians,  and  now  with  the  Pollake. 

He  is  advised  by  no  council,  but  governeth 
altogether  like  a  tyrant.  He  hath  one  son  of 
thirty  years  of  age.  Not  long  sithence  this 
prince  deposed  himself,  and  set  in  his  place  a 
Tartar,  whom  he  removed  again.  Of  late  sent 
an  ambassador  to  Rome,  giving  some  hope  to 
submit  himself  to  that  see.  Their  religion  is 
nearest  the  Greek  church,  full  of  superstition 
and  idolatry. 


I  O  G  R  A  P  H  Y. 


IN  HAPPY  MEMORY 

OF 

ELIZABETH    QUEEN  OF  ENGLAND; 

OR, 

A   COLLECTION   OF   THE   FELICITIES   OF   QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 

WRITTEN   BY   HIS   LORDSHIP   IN   LATIN,   AND    ENGLISHED   BY   DR.   RAWLEY. 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH,  both  in  her  natural  endow 
ments,  and  her  fortune,  was  admirable  amongst 
women,  and  memorable  amongst  princes.  But 
this  is  no  subject  for  the  pen  of  a  mere  scholar, 
or  any  such  cloistered  writer.  For  these  men 
are  eager  in  their  expressions,  but  shallow  in 
their  judgments;  and  perform  the  scholar's  part 
well,  but  transmit  things  but  unfaithfully  to  pos 
terity.  Certainly  it  is  a  science  belonging  to 
statesmen,  and  to  such  as  sit  at  the  helms  of 
great  kingdoms,  and  have  been  acquainted  with 
the  weight  and  secrets  of  civil  business,  to  handle 
this  matter  dexterously.  Rare  in  all  ages  hath 
been  the  reign  of  a  woman,  more  rare  the  felicity 
of  a  woman  in  her  reign,  but  most  rare  a  perma 
nency  and  lasting  joined  with  that  felicity.  As 
for  this  lady  she  reigned  four-and-forty  years 
complete,  and  yet  she  did  not  survive  her  felicity. 
Of  this  felicity  I  am  purposed  to  say  somewhat; 
yet  without  any  excursion  into  praises ;  for  praises 
are  the  tribute  of  men,  but  felicity  the  gift  of  God. 

First,  I  reckon  it  as  a  part  of  her  felicity,  that 
she  was  advanced  to  the  regal  throne  from  a  pri 
vate  fortune.  For  this  is  ingenerate  in  the  nature 
and  opinions  of  men,  to  ascribe  that  to  the  great 
est  felicity,  which  is  not  counted  upon,  and  cometh 
unlocked  for,  but  this  is  not  that  I  intend,  it  is 
this,  princes  that  are  trained  up  in  their  father's 
courts,  and  to  an  immediate  and  apparent  hope  of 
succession,  do  get  this  by  the  tenderness  and  re- 
missness  of  their  education,  that  they  become, 
commonly,  less  capable  and  less  temperate  in  their 
affections.  And  therefore  you  shall  find  those  to 
have  been  the  ablest  and  most  accomplished  kings 
that  were  tutored  by  both  fortunes.  Such  was 
with  us,  King  Henry  the  Seventh ;  and  with  the 
French,  Lewis  the  Twelfth  :  both  which,  in  recent 
memory  and  almost  about  the  same  time,  obtained 


their  crowns,  not  only  from  a  private,  but  also 
from  an  adverse  and  afflicted  fortune;  and  did 
both  excel  in  their  several  ways ;  the  former  in 
prudence,  and  the  other  in  justice.  Much  like 
was  the  condition  of  this  princess,  whose  blossoms 
and  hopes  were  unequally  aspected  by  fortune, 
that  afterwards  when  she  came  to  crown,  fortune 
might  prove  towards  her  always  mild  and  constant. 
For  Queen  Elizabeth,  soon  after  she  was  born, 
was  entitled  to  the  succession  in  the  crown,  upon 
the  next  turn  disinherited  again,  then  laid  aside 
and  slighted  :  during  the  reign  of  her  brother,  her 
estate  was  most  prosperous  and  flourishing;  dur 
ing  the  reign  of  her  sister,  very  tempestuous  and 
full  of  hazard.  Neither  yet  did  she  pass  imme 
diately  from  the  prison  to  the  crown,  which  sud 
den  change  might  have  been  enough  to  make  her 
cast  off  all  moderation  :  but  first  she  regained  her 
liberty,  then  there  buded  forth  some  probable 
hopes  of  succession ;  and  lastly,  in  a  great  still 
and  happiness  she  was  advanced  to  the  imperial 
crown  without  either  noise  or  competitor.  All 
which  I  allege  that  it  may  appear  that  the  divine 
Providence,  intending  to  produce  a  most  exquisite; 
princess,  was  pleased  to  prepare  and  mould  her 
by  these  degrees  of  discipline.  Neither  ought 
the  misfortune  of  her  mother  justly  to  stain  the, 
pure  stream  of  her  blood  ;  especially  seeing  it  is 
very  evident  that  King  Henry  the  Eighth  did  firsr 
burn  with  new  loves,  before  he  was  inflamed 
with  indignation  against  Queen  Anne :  neither  is 
it  unknown  to  the  ages  since  that  he  was  a  king 
naturally  prone  to  loves  and  jealousies ;  and  not 
containing  himself  in  those  cases  from  the  effusion 
of  blood.  Besides,  the  very  person  for  whom 
she  was  suspected  showeth  the  accusation  to  be 
less  probable,  and  built  upon  weak  and  frivolous 
suppositions ;  which  was  both  secretly  whispered 

395 


396 


THE  FELICITIES  OF  QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 


in  many  men's  ears  at  that  time;  and  which 
Queen  Anne  herself  testified  by  her  undaunted 
courage,  and  that  memorable  speech  of  her's  at 
the  time  of  her  death.  For  having  gotten,  as  she 
supposed,  a  faithful  and  friendly  messenger,  in 
the  very  hour  before  her  death,  she  delivered  him 
these  words  to  relate  unto  the  king  :  "That  she 
had  ever  found  the  king  very  constant  and  firm 
to  his  purpose  of  advancing  her;  for  first,  from 
the  estate  of  a  gentlewoman  only,  and  no  way 
pretending  to  noble  titles,  he  raised  her  to  the 
honour  of  a  marchioness  ;  next,  he  vouchsafed  to 
make  her  his  consort  both  of  his  kingdom  and 
bed :  and  now  that  there  remained  no  higher 
earthly  honour,  he  meant  to  crown  her  innocency 
with  the  glory  of  martyrdom."  But  though  the 
messenger  durst  not  relate  these  words  to  the 
king,  who  was  already  inflamed  with  new  loves, 
yet  certain  tradition,  the  conserver  of  truth,  hath 
conveyed  them  to  posterity. 

Another  principal  thing,  which  I  cast  into  Queen 
Elizabeth's  felicity,  was  the  time  and  period  of 
her  reign  ;  not  only  for  that  it  was  long,  but  also 
because  it  fell  into  that  season  of  her  life,  which 
was  most  active  and  fittest  for  the  swaying 
or"  a  sceptre,  for  she  was  fully  five-and-twenty 
years  old  (at  which  age  the  civil  law  freeth  from 
a  curator)  when  she  came  to  the  crown,  and  reign 
ed  to  the  seventieth  year  of  her  life ;  so  that  she 
never  suffered  either  the  detriments  of  pupilage, 
and  check  of  an  over-awing  power,  or  the  incon 
veniences  of  an  impotent  and  unwieldy  old  age ;  and 
old  ago  is -not  without  a  competent  portion  of  mise 
ries,  even  to  private  men ;  but  to  kings,  besides  the 
common  burden  of  years,  it  brings  for  the  most 
part  a  declining  in  the  estates  they  govern,  and 
a  conclusion  of  their  lives  without  honour.  For 
there  hath  scarce  been  known  a  king  that  hath 
lived  to  an  extreme  and  impotent  old  age,  but  he 
hath  suffered  some  detriment  in  his  territories, 
and  gone  less  in  his  reputation.  Of  which  thing 
there  is  a  most  eminent  example  in  Philip  the 
Second,  King  of  Spain,  a  most  puissant  prince, 
and  an  excellent  governor,  who,  in  the  last  years 
of  his  life,  and  impotent  old  age,  was  sensible  of 
this  whereof  we  speak;  and  therefore  with  great 
circumspection  submitted  himself  to  nature's  law, 
voluntarily  surrendered  the  territories  he  had  got 
ten  in  France,  established  a  firm  peace  in  that 
kingdom,  attempted  the  like  in  other  places,  that 
so  he  might  transmit  his  kingdoms  peaceable  and 
entire  to  his  next  heir.  Contrariwise,  Queen 
Elizabeth's  fortune  was  so  constant  and  deeply 
rooted,  that  no  disaster  in  any  of  her  dominions 
accompanied  her  indeed  declining,  but  still  able 
years  :  nay,  further,  for  an  undeniable  token  of  her 
felicity,  she  died  not  before  the  rebellion  in  Ire 
land  was  fortunately  decided,  and  quashed  by  a 
battle  there,  lest  otherwise  it  might  have  defal 
cated  from  the  total  sum  of  her  glor}r.  Now  the 
condition  also  of  the  people  over  whom  she  reio-n- 


ed,  I  take  to  be  a  matter  worthy  our  observation ; 
for  if  her  lot  had  fallen  amongst  the  desolate 
Palmyrenes,  or  in  Asia,  a  soft  and  effeminate  race 
of  men,  a  woman-prince  might  have  been  suffi 
cient  for  a  womanish  people;  but  for  the  English, 
a  nation  stout  and  warlike,  to  be  ruled  by  the  check 
of  a  woman,  and  to  yield  so  humble  obedience  to 
her,  is  a  thing  deserving  the  highest  admiration. 

Neither  was  this  disposition  of  her  people 
(hungry  of  war,  and  unwillingly  bowing  to  peace) 
any  impediment  to  her,  but  that  she  enjoyed  and 
maintained  peace  all  her  days :  and  this  desire  in 
her  of  peace,  together  with  her  fortunate  accom 
plishment  thereof,  I  reckon  to  be  one  of  her  chief- 
est  praises.  For  this  was  happy  for  her  time, 
comely  for  her  sex,  and  comfortable  to  her  con 
science.  Indeed,  about  the  tenth  year  of  her 
reign,  there  was  an  offer  of  a  commotion  in  the 
northern  parts,  but  it  was  soon  laid  asleep  and  ex 
tinguished;  but  all  her  reign  beside  was  free 
from  the  least  breath  or  air  of  civil  broils.  Now 
I  judge  the  peace  maintained  by  her  to  be  the 
more  eminent  for  two  causes,  which  indeed  make 
nothing  for  the  merit  of  that  peace,  but  much  for 
the  honour:  the  one,  that  it  was  set  off,  and  made 
more  conspicuous  by  the  broils  and  dissensions 
of  neighbouring  nations,  as  it  were  by  so  many 
lights  and  torches:  the  other,  that  amidst  the 
benefits  of  peace  she  lost  not  the  honour  of  arms  ; 
insomuch,  that  the  reputation  of  the  English  arms 
was  not  only  preserved,  but  also  advanced  by 
her  upon  many  glorious  occasions.  For  the  suc 
cours  sent  into  the  Netherlands,  France,  and 
Scotland,  the  expeditions  by  sea  into  both  the 
Indies,  whereof  some  circled  the  whole  globe  of 
the  earth ;  the  fleets  sent  into  Portugal,  and  to 
annoy  the  coasts  of  Spain:  and  lastly,  the  often 
suppressions  and  overthrows  of  the  rebels  in  Ire 
land,  did  both  show  the  warlike  prowess  of  our 
nation  to  be  no  whit  diminished,  and  did  much 
increase  the  renown  of  the  queen. 

There  was  another  thing  that  did  greatly  ad 
vance  her  glory ;  that  both  by  her  timely  succours, 
her  neighbour  kings  were  settled  in  their  rightful 
thrones,  and  the  suppliant  people,  who  by  the  ill 
advisedness  of  their  kings  were  abandoned  and 
given  over  to  the  cruelty  of  their  ministers,  and  to 
the  fury  of  the  multitude,  and  to  all  manner  of 
butchery  and  desolation,  were  relieved  by  her; 
by  reason  whereof  they  subsist  unto  this  day. 
Neither  was  she  a  princess  less  benign  and  for 
tunate  in  the  influence  of  her  counsels  than  of 
her  succours;  as  being  one  that  had  oftentimes 
interceded  to  the  King  of  Spain,  to  mitigate  his 
wrath  against  his  subjects  in  the  Netherlands, 
and  to  reduce  them  to  his  obedience  upon  some 
tolerable  conditions ;  and  further,  as  being  one 
that  did  perpetually  and  upon  all  occasions  repre 
sent  to  the  French  kings  the  observation  of  their 
own  edicts,  so  often  declaring  and  promising 
peace  to  their  subjects.  I  cannot  deny  but  that 


THE  FELICITIES  OF  QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 


397 


these  good  counsels  of  hers  wanted  the  effect :  in 
the  former  I  verily  believe  for  the  universal  good 
of  Europe,  lest  happily  the  ambition  of  Spain,  be 
ing  unloosed  from  its  fetters,  should  have  poured 
itself  (as  things  then  stood)  upon  the  other  king 
doms  and  states  of  Christendom :  and  for  the  lat 
ter,  the  blood  of  so  many  innocents  with  their 
wives  and  children  slain  within  their  own  har 
bours  and  nests  by  the  scum  of  the  people,  (who 
like  so  many  mastiffs  were  let  loose,  arid  hearten 
ed,  and  even  set  upon  them  by  the  state,)  would 
not  suffer  it;  which  did  continually  cry  unto  God 
for  vengeance,  that  so  blood-sucking  a  kingdom 
might  have  her  fill  thereof,  in  the  intestine  slaugh 
ters  and  consumption  of  a  civil  war.  Howsoever 
she  persisted  to  perform  the  part  of  a  wise  and 
loving  confederate. 

There  is  another  cause  also  for  which  we  may 
justly  admire  this  peace  so  constantly  pursued 
and  maintained  by  the  queen.  And  that  is,  that 
it  did  not  proceed  from  any  bent  or  inclination  of 
those  times  ;  but  from  the  prudency  of  her  govern 
ment  and  discreet  carriage  of  things.  For  where 
as  she  herself  was  not  without  manifest  danger 
from  an  ill-affected  party  at  home  for  the  cause  of 
religion,  and  that  the  strength  and  forces  of  this 
kingdom  were  in  the  place  of  a  bulwark  to  all 
Europe  against  the  then  dreadful  and  overflowing 
ambition  and  power  of  the  King  of  Spain,  she 
might  have  apprehended  just  cause  of  a  war;  but 
as  she  was  still  ready  with  her  counsel,  so  she 
was  not  behindhand  with  her  forces.  And  this 
we  are  taught  by  an  event  the  most  memorable  of 
any  in  our  time,  if  we  look  upon  the  felicity  there 
of.  For  when  as  the  Spanish  navy  (set  forth 
with  such  wonderful  preparation  in  all  kinds,  the 
terror  and  amazement  of  all  Europe,  carried  on 
with  almost  assurance  of  victory)  came  braving 
upon  our  seas  ;  it  took  not  so  much  as  one  poor 
cock-boat  of  ours,  nor  fired  any  one  village,  nor 
landed  one  man  upon  English  ground ;  but  was 
utterly  defeated,  and  after  a  shameful  flight  and 
many  shipwrecks  quite  dispersed,  so  as  the  peace 
of  this  kingdom  was  never  more  firm  and  solid. 
Neither  was  her  felicity  less  in  escaping  treacher 
ous  attempts  at  home,  than  in  subduing  and  de 
feating  foreign  invasions.  For  not  a  few  treasons 
plotted  against  her  life  were  most  fortunately 
discovered  and  disappointed.  And  this  was  no 
cause  to  make  her  lead  a  more  fearful  or  diffident 
life  than  before.  No  new  increase  of  her  guard, 
no  immuring  herself  within  her  own  walls,  or 
forbearing  to  be  seen  abroad;  but  as  one  assured 
and  confident,  and  that  was  more  mindful  of  her 
escape  from  danger,  than  of  the  danger  itself,  she 
was  constant  to  her  former  customs  and  fashions. 

Furthermore,  it  is  worth  our  labour  to  consider  i 
the  nature  of  the  times  in  which  she  reigned,  j 
For  there  are  some  times  so  barbarous  and  igno-  j 
rant  that  it  is  no  greater  matter  to  govern  people  i 
than  to  govern  a  flock  of  sheep.  But  this  queen  j 


fell  upon  times  of  a  singular  learning  and  suffi 
ciency ;  in  which  it  was  not  possible  to  be  emi 
nent,  without  admirable  endowments  of  wit,  and 
a  rare  temper  of  virtue.  Again,  the  reigns  of 
women  are  for  the  most  part  obscured  by  their 
husbands ;  upon  whom  all  their  praises  and  wor 
thy  acts  do  reflect :  as  for  those  that  continue  un 
married,  it  is  they  that  impropriate  the  whole 
glory  and  merit  to  themselves.  And  this  was 
the  peculiar  glory  of  this  princess,  that  she  had 
no  props  or  supports  of  her  government,  but  those 
that  were  of  her  own  making.  She  had  no  brother, 
the  son  of  her  mother ;  no  uncle,  none  other  of 
the  royal  blood  and  lineage  that  might  be  partner 
in  her  cares,  and  an  upholder  of  the  regal  dignity. 
And  as  for  those  whom  she  raised  to  honour,  she 
carried  such  a  discreet  hand  over  them,  and  so 
interchanged  her  favours  as  they  still  strived  in 
emulation  and  desire  to  please  her  best,  and  she 
herself  remained  in  all  things  an  absolute  princess. 
Childless  she  was,  and  left  no  issue  behind  her; 
which  was  the  case  of  many  of  the  most  fortu 
nate  princes,  Alexander  the  Great,  Julius  Ceesar, 
Trajan,  and  others.  And  this  is  a  case  that  hath 
been  often  controverted  and  argued  on  both  sides, 
whilst  some  hold  the  want  of  children  to  be  a 
diminution  of  our  happiness,  as  if  it  should  be  an 
estate  more  than  human  to  be  happy  both  in  our 
own  persons,  and  in  our  descendants,  but  others 
do  account  the  want  of  children  as  an  addition  to 
earthly  happiness,  inasmuch  as  that  happiness 
may  be  said  to  complete,  over  which  fortune  hath 
no  power,  when  we  are  gone  :  which  if  we  leave 
children  cannot  be. 

She  had  also  many  outward  gifts  of  nature.  A 
tall  stature;  a  comely  and  straight  making;  an 
extraordinary  majest}T  of  aspect,  joined  with  a 
sweetness;  a  most  happy  and  constant  healthful- 
ness  of  body.  Unto  which  I  may  add,  that  in 
the  full  possession  both  of  her  limbs  and  spirits 
until  her  last  sickness,  having  received  no  blow 
from  fortune,  nor  decay  from  old  age ;  she  obtain 
ed  that  which  Augustus  Caesar  so  importunately 
prayed  for;  an  easy  and  undistempered  passage 
out  of  this  world.  Which  also  is  reported  of  An 
toninus  Pius,  that  excellent  emperor ;  whose  death 
had  the  resemblance  of  some  soft  and  pleasing 
slumber.  So  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  disease,  there 
was  no  ghastly  or  fearful  accident;  no  idleness 
of  brain  ;  nothing  unaccustomed  to  man  in  gene 
ral  :  she  was  not  transported  either  with  desire 
of  life,  or  tediousness  of  sickness,  or  extremity 
of  pain  ;  she  had  no  grievous  or  uncomely  symp 
toms,  but  all  things  were  of  that  kind,  as  did  rather 
show  the  frailty  of  nature,  than  a  deordination  or 
reproach  of  it.  For  some  few  days  before  her 
death,  being  much  pined  with  the  extreme  drought 
of  her  body,  and  those  cares  that  accompany  a 
crown,  and  not  wonted  to  refresh  herself  with 
wine,  or  any  liberal  diet,  she  was  struck  with  a 
torpor  and  frigidity  in  her  nerves ;  notwithstand 
2L 


398 


THE  FELICITIES  OF  QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 


ing,  which  is  rare  in  such  diseases,  she  retained 
both  her  speech,  and  memory,  and  motion,  though 
but  slow  and  weak,  even  to  the  end.  And  in  this 
case  she  continued  but  a  few  days ;  so  as  it  cannot 
be  called  the  last  act  of  her  life,  but  the  first  step 
to  her  death.  For  as  it  is  a  miserable  condition 
to  see  the  faculties  of  our  body  buried  before  us ; 
and  to  survive  long  after  them ;  so  it  is  a  fair  and 
natural  conclusion  of  our  life,  when  the  senses 
are  by  little  and  little  laid  asleep,  that  the  dissolu 
tion  of  the  whole  should  immediately  follow. 

I  will  add  one  thing  more  to  make  up  the  full 
measure  of  her  felicity :  which  is,  that  she  was 
not  only  most  happy  in  her  own  person,  but  in 
the  abilities  and  virtues  of  her  servants  and 
ministers,  for  she  was  served  by  such  persons  as 
I  suppose  this  island  never  brought  forth  the  like 
before  her  times.  Now  when  God  beareth  a  love 
to  kings,  no  doubt  he  raiseth  up  the  spirits  of 
wise  servants  as  a  concurrent  blessing. 

There  are  two  fair  issues  of  her  happiness, 
born  to  her  since  her  death,  I  conceive  not  less 
glorious  and  eminent  than  those  she  enjoyed 
alive.  The  one  of  her  successor,  the  other  of 
her  memory.  For  she  had  gotten  such  a  suc 
cessor,  who  although,  for  his  masculine  virtues, 
and  blessing  of  posterity,  and  addition  of  terri 
tories,  he  may  be  said  to  exceed  her  greatness 
and  somewhat  to  obscure  it;  notwithstanding, 
he  is  most  zealous  of  her  name  and  glory ;  and 
doth  even  give  a  perpetuity  to  her  acts,  consider 
ing  both  in  the  choice  of  the  persons,  and  in  the 
orders,  and  institutions  of  the  kingdom,  he  hath 
departed  so  little  from  her,  so  as  a  son  could 
hardly  succeed  a  father  with  less  noise  of  inno 
vation.  As  for  her  memory,  it  hath  gotten  such 
life  in  the  mouths  and  hearts  of  men,  as  that 
envy  being  put  out  by  her  death,  and  her  fame 
lighted,  I  cannot  say  whether  the  felicity  of  her 
life,  or  the  felicity  of  her  memory  be  the  greater. 
For  if,  perhaps,  there  fly  abroad  any  factious 
fames  of  her,  raised  either  by  discontented  per 
sons,  or  such  as  are  averse  in  religion;  which 
notwithstanding,  dare  now  scarce  show  their 
faces,  and  are  everywhere  cried  down ;  the  same 
are  neither  true,  neither  can  they  be  long-lived. 
And  for  this  cause,  especially,  have  I  made  this 
collection,  such  as  it  is,  touching  her  felicity,  and 
the  marks  of  God's  favour  towards  her;  that  no 
malicious  person  should  dare  to  interpose  a  curse, 
where  God  hath  given  a  blessing.  Now  if  any 
man  shall  allege  that  against  me,  was  once  said 
to  Csesar;  "we  see  what  we  may  admire,  but  we 
would  fain  see  what  we  can  commend  ;"  certainly, 
for  my  part,  I  hold  true  admiration  to  be  the 
highest  degree  of  commendation.  And  besides 
such  felicities  as  we  have  recounted  could  not 
befall  any  princess,  but  such  a  one  as  was  ex 
traordinarily  supported  and  cherished  by  God's 
favour;  and  had  much  in  her  own  person,  and 
rare  virtues,  to  create  and  work  out  unto  herself 


such  a  fortune.  Notwithstanding,  I  have  thought 
good  to  insert  something  now  concerning  her 
moral  part,  yet  only  in  those  things  which  have 
ministered  occasion  to  some  malicious  to  traduce 
her. 

This  queen,  as  touching  her  religion,  was 
pious,  moderate,  constant,  and  an  enemy  to 
novelty.  First,  for  her  piety,  though  the  same 
were  most  conspicuous  in  her  acts  and  the  form 
of  her  government;  yet  it  was  portrayed  also  in 
the  common  course  of  her  life,  and  her  daily 
comportment.  Seldom  would  she  be  absent  from 
hearing  divine  service,  and  other  duties  of  religion, 
either  in  her  chapel,  or  in  her  privy  closet.  In 
the  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  and  the  writings 
of  the  fathers,  especially  of  Saint  Augustine,  she 
was  very  frequent ;  she  composed  certain  prayers 
herself  on  emergent  occasions.  Whensoever  she 
named  God,  though  it  were  in  common  discourse, 
she  would  for  the  most  part  add  the  title  of  Maker, 
saying,  God  my  Maker:  and  compose  both  her 
eyes  and  countenance  to  a  submissness  and  reve 
rence.  This  I  have  often,  myself,  observed, 
being  in  her  presence ;  now  whereas  some  have 
divulged  her  unrnindfulness  of  mortality,  in  that 
she  would  never  endure  any  mention  either  of  her 
age,  or  death,  is  most  false :  for  she  would  often, 
and  that  man)''  years  before  her  death,  with  a 
great  deal  of  meekness  profess  that  she  found 
herself  grown  an  old  woman,  and  she  would 
sometimes  open  herself  what  she  liked  best  for 
an  inscription  upon  her  tomb,  saying,  that  she 
loved  no  pompous  or  vainglorious  titles,  but  would 
only  have  a  line  or  two  for  her  memory,  wherein 
her  name  and  her  virginity,  and  the  years  of  her 
reign,  and  her  establishing  of  religion,  and  her 
maintaining  of  peace,  should  be  in  the  fewest 
words  comprehended.  It  is  true,  that  whilst  she 
was  in  her  vigorous  years,  and  able  to  bear  child 
ren,  if  at  any  time  she  were  moved  to  declare 
her  successor,  she  would  make  answer,  that  she 
would  never  endure  to  see  her  winding-sheet 
before  her  eyes.  And  yet,  notwithstanding,  some 
few  years  before  her  death,  one  day  when  she 
was  in  a  deep  meditation,  and,  as  it  may  be 
guessed,  in  that  of  her  mortality,  one  that  might 
be  bold  said  unto  her,  "Madam,  there  are  divers 
offices,  and  great  places  in  the  state,  which  you 
keep  long  void."  She  arose  up  in  some  displea 
sure,  and  said,  "I  am  sure  my  office  will  not  be 
long  void." 

As  for  her  moderateness  in  religion,  I  shall 
seem  to  be  at  a  stand,  in  regard  of  the  severe 
laws  made  against  her  subjects  of  the  Romis^ 
religion:  notwithstanding,  that  which  I  shall  sav 
is  no  more  than  what  I  know  for  certain,  »»•.-. 
diligently  observed.  Most  certain  it  is,  th-it  * 
was  the  firm  resolution  of  this  princess  not  i-. 
offer  any  violence  to  consciences;  but  then  •?<. 
the  other  side,  not  to  suffer  the  state  of  her  king 
dom  to  be  ruined  under  pretence  of  conscience 


THE  FELICITIES  OF  QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 


399 


and  religion.  Out  of  this  fountain  she  concluded ; 
first,  that  to  allow  freedom  and  toleration  of  two 
religions  by  public  authority,  in  a  nation  fierce 
and  warlike,  and  that  would  easily  fall  from  dis 
sension  of  minds  to  siding  and  blows,  would 
bring  inevitable  ruin  to  this  kingdom.  Again, 
in  the  newness  of  her  reign,  when  there  was  a 
general  distrust,  she  singled  out  some  of  the 
bishops  of  the  most  turbulent  and  factious  spirits, 
and  committed  them  to  free  custody;  and  this 
not  without  the  warrant  of  former  laws.  As  for 
the  rest,  either  of  the  clergy  or  laity,  she  did  not 
ransack  their  consciences  by  any  severe  inqui 
sition,  but  rather  secured  them  by  a  gracious 
connivancy :  and  this  was  the  state  of  things  at 
the  first.  Neither  did  she  depart  from  this 
clemency,  when  the  excommunication  of  Pius 
Quintus  came  thundering  against  her,  which 
might  both  justly  have  provoked  her,  and  have 
ministered  occasion  to  new  courses ;  but  howso 
ever  she  followed  her  royal  nature  still :  for  as  a 
wise  lady,  and  of  a  high  courage,  she  was  not  a 
whit  terrified  at  the  roaring  of  a  bull,  being  well 
assured  of  her  people's  love  and  fidelity  towards 
her,  as  also  of  the  disability  of  the  popish  faction 
within  the  kingdom  to  do  her  hurt,  if  no  foreign 
enemy  joined  with  them.  But  then,  about  the 
three-and-twentieth  year  of  her  reign  there  fol 
lowed  a  mighty  change.  And  this  distinction  of 
the  times  is  not  any  device  of  mine,  but  it  is  ex 
pressed  in  the  public  acts  of  that  time,  and  as  it 
were  cut  in  brass ;  for  before  that  year  was  there 
never  any  capital  or  severe  punishment  inflicted 
upon  any  of  her  subjects,  as  they  had  relation  to 
the  Romish  religion,  by  the  laws  formerly  made. 
But  just  then  began  that  proud  and  vast  intention 
of  Spain  to  conquer  this  kingdom,  by  little  and 
little  to  show  itself.  Of  this  the  principal  part 
was  to  stir  up  by  all  means  a  party  within  the 
kingdom,  of  such  as  were  ill-affected  to  the  state, 
and  desirous  of  innovation,  that  might  adhere  to 
the  foreigner  at  his  landing.  For  this  they  had 
no  other  hopes  than  the  difference  in  religion; 
wherefore  they  set  it  down  to  pursue  this  course 
with  all  their  power :  and  the  seminaries  at  that 
time  budding,  priests  were  sent  into  England  to 
plant  and  disperse  a  love  to  the  Romish  religion; 
to  teach  and  inculcate  the  power  of  the  pope's 
excommunication  in  freeing  subjects  from  their 
allegiance,  and  to  awaken  and  prepare  the  minds 
of  men  to  an  expectation  of  a  change.  About  the 
same  time,  Ireland  also  was  attempted  by  an 
invasion,  and  the  queen's  name  and  government 
traduced  by  sundry  and  scandalous  libels.  To 
be  short,  there  was  an  unusual  swelling  in  the 
state,  the  forerunner  of  greater  troubles:  yet  I 
will  not  affirm,  that  every  priest  which  was  sent 
over  was  made  of  the  council,  or  privy  to  the 
enterprise,  but  that  some  of  them  became  the 
wicked  instruments  only  of  other  men's  malice. 
Notwithstanding  this  is  true,  and  witnessed  by 


the  confessions  of  many,  that  almost  all  the 
priests  which  were  sent  into  this  kingdom  from 
that  aforenamed  year,  unto  the  thirtieth  year  of 
Queen  Elizabeth's  reign,  at  which  time  that  de 
sign  of  the  pope  and  Spain  was  put  into  execu 
tion,  by  those  memorable  preparations  of  the 
navy  and  land  forces,  had  in  their  instructions, 
besides  other  parts  of  their  function,  to  distil  and 
insinuate  into  the  people  these  particulars :  "  It 
was  impossible  things  should  continue  at  this 
stay  :  they  should  see  ere  long  a  great  change  in 
this  state ;  that  the  pope  and  Catholic  princes 
were  careful  for  the  English,  if  they  would  not 
be  wanting  to  themselves."  Again,  sundry  of 
the  priests  did  manifestly  interpose  themselves 
into  those  consultations  and  plots  which  tended 
to  the  undermining  and  ruining  of  this  kingdom  : 
and,  which  especially  moved  her,  letters  were  in 
tercepted  out  of  divers  parts  that  discovered  the 
true  face  of  the  plot ;  in  which  was  written,  that 
they  doubted  not  to  go  beyond  the  vigil ancy  of 
the  queen  and  state  in  the  matter  of  Catholics; 
for  the  queen  would  only  have  an  eye  lest  there 
should  arise  any  fit  head,  in  the  person  of  some 
lord,  or  other  eminent  gentleman  of  quality,  under 
whom  the  Catholics  might  unite ;  but  they  had 
thought  upon  another  course,  as  namely ,  by  private 
men,  and  those  but  of  mean  rank,  that  should  not 
confer,  nor  scarce  know  of  each  other's  employ 
ments,  to  prepare  and  mature  the  business  by  the 
secresy  of  confession.  And  these  were  their  en 
gines,  the  which,  as  hath  appeared  since  in  a  case 
not  much  unlike,  are  usual  and  familiar  to  that 
order  of  men.  In  this  great  deluge  of  danger, 
there  was  a  necessity  imposed  upon  Queen  Eliza 
beth  to  restrain,  by  some  sharper  bands  of  laws, 
that  part  of  her  subjects  which  were  alienated 
from  her,  and  had  drunk  too  deep  a  draught  of 
this  poison  ever  to  recover ;  and  further,  which 
by  their  retired  living,  arid  exemption  from  public 
offices,  were  grown  very  rich  :  and  moreover,  the 
mischief  daily  growing,  when  as  the  cause  there 
of  was  ascribed  to  none  other  than  the  seminary 
priests,  who  had  been  nourished  in  foreign  parts, 
and  received  exhibition  from  the  bounty  and  alms 
of  foreign  princes,  professed  enemies  to  this  state ; 
and  who  had  conversed  in  such  places  where  the 
name  of  Queen  Elizabeth  was  never  heard,  but 
as  of  a  heretic,  and  excommunicate,  and  accursed 
person ;  and  who,  though  themselves,  sometimes, 
had  no  hand  in  treason,  yet  they  were  known  to 
be  the  intimate  friends  of  them  that  had.  And 
lastly,  who  by  their  arts  and  poisons  had  infected 
and  soured  the  mass  and  lump  of  the  Catholics, 
which  before  was  more  sweet  and  harmless,  with 
a  new  kind  of  leaven,  and  desperate  malicious 
ness  :  there  could  no  other  remedy  be  devised, 
but  by  forbidding  such  persons  to  enter  into  this 
kingdom  upon  pain  of  their  lives ;  which  at  last, 
in  the  twenty-seventh  year  of  her  reign,  was  ac 
cordingly  done.  Nay,  and  when  the  event  itself 


400 


THE  FELICITIES  OF  QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 


had  confirmed  this  to  be  true,  I  mean  immediately 
after  that  the  dreadful  tempest  arose  from  Spain, 
threatening  no  less  than  utter  desolation,  yet  did 
it  nothing  mollify  or  turn  the  edge  of  these  men's 
malice  and  fury,  but  rather  whetted  it,  as  if  they 
had  cast  off  all  natural  affection  to  their  country. 
As  for  the  times  succeeding,  I  mean  after  the  thir 
tieth  year  of  her  reign,  though  indeed  our  fear  of 
Spain,  which  had  been  the  spur  to  this  rigour,  had 
fairly  breathed  out,  or  was  well  abated ;  yet  con 
sidering  the  memory  of  times  past  had  made  so  deep 
impression  in  men's  hearts  and  cogitations,  and 
that  it  would  have  seemed  either  inconstancy  to 
repeal  those  former  laws,  or  sloth  to  neglect  them, 
the  very  constitution  of  things  did  suggest  to  the 
queen,  that  it  was  not  safe  to  reduce  them  unto 
that  state  wherein  they  had  continued  until  the 
three-and-twentieth  year  of  her  reign.  Hereunto 
may  be  added  the  industry  of  some  persons  in 
improving  the  revenues  of  the  exchequer,  and  the 
zeal  of  some  other  ministers  of  justice,  which  did 
never  think  their  country  safe  unless  the  laws 
were  rigorously  executed ;  all  which  did  impor 
tune  and  press  the  execution  of  the  laws.  Not 
withstanding,  the  queen,  for  a  manifest  token  of 
her  royal  nature,  did  so  dull  the  edge  of  tha  laws, 
that  but  a  very  few  priests,  in  respect  of  their 
number,  did  suffer  death.  Now  all  this  which  I 
have  said  is  not  by  wray  of  defence,  for  the  matter 
needs  it  not;  for  neither  could  this  kingdom  have 
been  safe  without  it,  neither  were  the  proceedings 
any  way  comparable  or  of  kin  to  those  bloody  and 
unchristianly  massacres  in  the  Catholic  countries, 
which  proceeded  merely  from  rancour  and  pride, 
and  not  from  any  necessity  of  state  :  howsoever, 
1  hope  I  have  made  my  first  assertion  good,  that 
she  was  moderate  in  the  point  of  religion,  and 
that  the  change  which  happened  was  not  in  her 
nature,  but  upon  the  necessity  of  the  times. 

Now  for  the  constancy  of  Queen  Elizabeth  in 
religion,  and  the  observance  thereof,  I  know  no 
better  argument  than  this,  That  although  she 
found  the  Romish  religion  confirmed  in  her  sister's 
days  by  act  of  parliament,  and  established  by  all 
strong  and  potent  means  that  could  be  devised, 
and  to  have  taken  deep  root  in  this  kingdom ;  and 
that  all  those  which  had  any  authority,  or  bore 
any  office  in  the  state,  had  subscribed  to  it :  yet 
for  that  she  saw  that  it  was  not  agreeable  to  the 
word  of  God,  nor  to  the  primitive  purity,  nor  to 
her  own  conscience,  she  did,  with  a  great  deal  of 
courage,  and  with  the  assistance  of  a  very  few 
persons,  quite  expel  and  abolish  it.  Neither  did 
she  this  by  precipitate  and  heady  courses,  but  tim 
ing  it  wisely  and  soberly.  And  this  may  well  be 
conjectured,  as  from  the  thing  itself,  so  also  by  an 
answer  of  hers,  which  she  made  upon  occasion. 
For  within  a  very  few  days  of  her  coming  to  the 
crown,  when  many  prisoners  were  released  out  of 
prison,  as  the  custom  is  at  the  inauguration  of  a 
prince,  there  came  to  her  one  day  as  she  was  go 


ing  to  chapel,  a  certain  courtier  that  had  the  li 
berty  of  a  buffoon,  and  either  out  of  his  own  mo 
tion,  or  by  the  instigation  of  a  wiser  man,  present 
ed  her  with  a  petition :  and  before  a  great  number 
of  courtiers,  said  to  her  with  a  loud  voice,  "That 
there  were  yet  four  or  five  prisoners  unjustly  de 
tained  in  prison ;  he  came  to  be  a  suitor  to  have 
them  set  at  liberty  ;  those  were  the  four  evange 
lists,  and  the  apostle  Saint  Paul,  who  had  been 
long  shut  up  in  an  unknown  tongue,  as  it  were 
in  prison,  so  as  they  could  not  converse  with  the 
common  people."  The  queen  answered  very 
gravely,  "  That  it  was  best  first  to  inquire  of  them, 
whether  they  would  be  set  at  liberty  or  no." 
Thus  she  silenced  an  unseasonable  motion  with  a 
doubtful  answer,  as  reserving  the  matter  wholly  in 
her  own  power.  Neither  did  she  bring  in  this  al 
teration  timorously,  or  by  pieces,  but  in  a  grave 
and  mature  manner,  after  a  conference  betwixt 
both  sides,  and  the  calling  and  conclusion  of  a 
parliament.  And  thus  within  the  compass  of  one 
year,  she  did  so  establish  and  settle  all  matters 
belonging  to  the  church,  as  she  departed  not  one 
hair's  breadth  from  them  to  the  end  of  her  life  : 
nay,  and  her  usual  custom  was,  in  the  beginning 
of  every  parliament,  to  forewarn  the  houses  not  to 
question  or  innovate  anything  already  established 
in  the  discipline  or  rites  of  the  church.  And  thus 
much  of  her  religion. 

Now  if  there  be  any  severer  nature  that  shall 
tax  her  for  that  she  suffered  herself,  and  was  very 
willing  to  be  courted,  wooed,  and  to  have  sonnets 
made  in  her  commendation ;  and  that  she  conti 
nued  this  longer  than  was  decent  for  her  years  : 
notwithstanding,  if  you  will  take  this  matter  at 
the  best  it  is  not  without  singular  admiration,  be 
ing  much  like  unto  that  which  we  find  in  fabu- 
.lous  narrations,  of  a  certain  queen  in  the  Fortunate 
Islands,  and  of  her  court  and  fashions,  where  fair 
purpose  and  love  making  was  allowed,  but  lasci- 
viousness  banished.  But  if  you  will  take  it  at  the 
worst,  even  so  it  amounteth  to  a  more  high  admi 
ration,  considering  that  these  courtships  did  not 
much  eclipse  her  fame,  and  not  at  all  her  majesty  ; 
neither  did  they  make  her  less  apt  for  govern 
ment,  or  choke  with  the  affairs  and  businesses  of 
the  public,  for  such  passages  as  these  do  often 
entertain  the  time  even  with  the  greatest  princes. 
But  to  make  an  end  of  this  discourse,  certainly 
this  princess  was  good  and  moral,  and  such  sh.- 
would  be  acknowledged  ;  she  detested  vice,  and 
desired  to  purchase  fame  only  by  honourable 
courses.  And  indeed  whilst  I  mention  her  moral 
parts,  there  comes  a  certain  passage  into  my  mind 
which  I  will  insert.  Once  giving  order  to  write 
to  her  ambassador  about  certain  instructions  to  be 
delivered  apart  to  the  queen-mother  of  the  house 
of  Valois,  and  that  her  secretary  had  inserted  a 
certain  clause  that  the  ambassador  should  say,  as 
it  were  to  endear  her  to  the  queen-mother,  "  That 
!  they  two  were  the  only  pair  of  female  princes, 


CIVIL  CHARACTER  OF  JULIUS  C^SAR. 


401 


from  whom,  for  experience  and  arts  of  government, 
there  was  no  less  expected  than  from  the  greatest 
kings."  She  utterly  disliked  the  comparison, 
and  commanded  it  to  be  put  out,  saying,  "  That 
she  practised  other  principles  and  arts  of  govern 
ment  than  the  queen-mother  did."  Besides  she 
was  not  a  little  pleased,  if  any  one  should  fortune 
to  tell  her,  that  suppose  she  had  lived  in  a  private 
fortune,  yet  she  could  not  have  escaped  without 
some  note  of  excellency  and  singularity  in  her  sex. 
So  little  did  she  desire  to  borrow  or  be  beholding 
to  her  fortune  for  her  praise.  But  if  I  should  wade 


further  into  this  queen's  praises,  moral  or  politic, 
either  I  must  slide  into  certain  commonplaces, 
and  heads  of  virtue,  which  were  not  worthy  of  so 
great  a  princess  :  or  if  I  should  desire  to  give  her 
virtues  the  true  grace  and  lustre,  I  must  fall  into 
a  history  of  her  life,  which  requireth  both  better 
leisure  and  a  better  pen  than  mine  is.  Thus  much 
in  brief  according  to  my  ability :  but  to  say  the 
truth,  the  only  commender  of  this  lady's  virtues  is 
time;  which  for  as  many  ages  as  it  hath  run,  hath 
not  yet  showed  us  one  of  the  female  sex  equal  to 
her  in  the  administration  of  a  kingdom. 


A 

CIVIL  CHARACTER  OF  JULIUS   CJESAR, 

WRITTEN  BY  HIS  LOIIDSHIP  IN   LATIN,   AND   ENGLISHED   BY   DR.   RAWLEY. 


JULIUS  CjESAtt  was  partaker  at  first  of  an  exer 
cised  fortune ;  which  turned  to  his  benefit ;  for  it 
ibated  the  haughtiness  of  his  spirit,  and  whetted 
his  industry.  He  had  a  mind,  turbulent  in  his 
desires  and  affections  ;  but  in  his  judgment  and 
understanding  very  serene  and  placid :  this  ap 
pears  by  his  easy  deliverances  of  himself,  both  in 
his  transactions  and  in  his  speech.  For  no  man 
ever  resolved  more  swiftly,  or  spake  more  perspi 
cuously  and  plainly.  There  was  nothing  forced  or 
difficult  in  his  expressions.  But  in  his  will  and 
appetite,  he  was  of  that  condition,  that  he  never 
rested  in  those  things  he  had  gotten;  but  still 
thirsted  and  pursued  after  new ;  yet  so,  that  he 
would  not  rush  into  new  affairs  rashly,  but  settle 
and  make  an  end  of  the  former,  before  he  attempt 
ed  fresh  actions.  So  that  he  would  put  a  season 
able  period  to  all  his  undertakings.  And  there 
fore,  though  he  won  many  battles  in  Spain,  and 
weakened  their  forces  by  degrees  ;  yet  he  would 
not  give  over,  nor  despise  the  relics  of  the  civil 
war  there,  till  he  had  seen  all  things  composed : 
but  then  as  soon  as  that  was  done,  and  the  state 
settled,  instantly  he  advanced  in  his  expedition 
against  the  Parthians. 

He  was,  no  doubt,  of  a  very  noble  mind ;  but 
yet  such  as  aimed  more  at  his  particular  advance 
ment,  than  at  any  merits  for  the  common  good. 
For  he  referred  all  things  to  himself;  and  was  the 
true  and  perfect  centre  of  all  his  actions.  By 
which  means,  being-  so  fast  tied  to  his  ends,  he 
was  still  prosperous,  and  prevailed  in  his  pur 
poses  •  insomuch,  that  neither  country,  nor  reli 
gion,  nor  good  turns  done  him,  nor  kindred,  nor 
friendship  diverted  his  appetite,  nor  bridled  him 
from  pursuing  his  own  ends.  Neither  was  he 
much  inclined  to  works  of  perpetuity ;  for  he  es- 

VOL.  I 51 


tablished  nothing  for  the  future;  he  founded  no 
sumptuous  buildings ;  he  procured  to  be  enacted 
no  wholesome  laws,  but  still  minded  himself: 
and  so  his  thoughts  were  confined  within  the  circle 
of  his  own  life.  He  sought  indeed  after  fame  and 
reputation,  because  he  thought  they  might  be  pro 
fitable  to  his  designs :  otherwise,  in  his  inward 
thoughts,  he  propounded  to  himself  rather  abso 
luteness  of  power,  than  honour  and  fame.  For 
as  for  honour  and  fame,  he  pursued  not  after  them 
for  themselves :  but  because  they  were  the  instru 
ments  of  power  and  greatness.  And  therefore 
he  was  carried  on  through  a  natural  inclination,  not 
by  any  rules  that  he  had  learned  to  affect  the  sole 
regiment;  and  rather  to  enjoy  the  same,  than  to 
seem  worthy  of  it.  And  by  this  means  he  won 
much  reputation  amongst  the  people,  who  are  no 
valuers  of  true  worth ;  but  amongst  the  nobility 
and  great  men,  who  were  tender  of  their  own 
honours,  it  procured  him  no  more  than  this,  thu,t  he 
incurred  the  brand  of  an  ambitious  and  daring  man. 
Neither  did  they  much  err  from  the  truth  who 
thought  him  so,  for  he  was  by  nature  exceeding 
bold ;  and  never  did  put  on  any  show  of  modesty, 
except  it  were  for  some  purpose.  Yet  notwith 
standing,  he  so  attempered  his  boldness,  that  it 
neither  impeached  him  ofrashness,  nor  was  bur 
densome  to  men ;  nor  rendered  his  nature  sus 
pected,  but  was  conceived  to  flow  out  of  an  innate 
sincerity  and  freeness  of  behaviour;  and  the 
nobility  of  his  birth :  and  in  all  other  things  he 
passed,  not  for  a  crafty  and  deceitful  person,  but 
for  an  open-hearted  and  plain-dealing  man.  And 
whereas  he  was  indeed  an  arch-politician,  that 
could  counterfeit  and  dissemble  sufficiently  well ; 
and  was  wholly  compounded  of  frauds  and  de 
ceits  ;  so  that  there  was  nothing  sincere  in  him, 
2L2 


402 


CIVIL  CHARACTER  OF  JULIUS  C^SAR. 


but  all  artificial ;  yet  he  covered,  and  disguis 
ed  himself  so,  that  no  such  vices  appeared  to 
the  eyes  of  the  world;  but  he  was  generally  re 
puted  to  proceed  plainly  and  uprightly  with  all 
men.  Howbeit,  he  did  not  stoop  to  any  petty  and 
mean  artifices,  as  they  do,  which  are  ignorant  in 
state  employments ;  and  depend  not  so  much  upon 
the  strength  of  their  own  wits,  as  upon  the  coun 
sels  and  brains  of  others,  to  support  their  au 
thority  ;  for  he  was  skilled  in  the  turnings  of  all 
*uiman  affairs ;  and  transacted  all  matters,  espe 
cially  those  of  high  consequence,  by  himself,  and 
not  by  others. 

He  was  singularly  skilful  to  avoid  envy  ;  and 
found  it  not  impertinent  to  his  ends,  to  decline 
that,  though  it  were  with  some  diminution  of  his 
dignity.  For  aiming  at  a  real  power,  he  was 
content  to  pass  by  all  vain  pomp  and  outward 
shows  of  power  throughout  his  whole  life ;  till  at 
the  last,  whether  high-flown  with  the  continual 
exercise  of  power,  or  corrupted  with  flatteries,  he 
affected  the  ensigns  of  power,  (the  style  and  dia 
dem  of  a  king,)  which  was  the  bait  that  wrought 
his  overthrow. 

This  is  true,  that  he  harboured  the  thoughts  of 
a  kingdom  from  his  very  youth :  and  hereunto 
the  example  of  Sylla,  and  the  kindred  of  Marius, 
and  his  emulation  of  Pompey,  and  the  corruption 
and  ambition  of  the  times,  did  prick  him  forward  : 
but  then  he  paved  his  way  to  a  kingdom,  after  a 
wonderful  and  strange  manner.  As  first,  by  a 
popular  and  seditious  power ;  afterwards  by  a 
military  power,  and  that  of  a  general  in  war.  For 
there  was  required  to  effect  his  ends ;  first,  that 
he  should  break  the  power  and  authority  of  the 
senate  ;  which,  as  long  as  it  stood  firm,  was  ad 
verse,  and  a  hinderance,  that  no  man  could  climb 
to  sovereignty  and  imperial  command.  Then  the 
power  of  Crassus  and  Pompey  wTas  to  be  subdued 
and  quelled,  which  could  not  be  done  otherwise 
than  by  arms.  And  therefore,  as  the  most  cun 
ning  contriver  of  his  own  fortune,  he  laid  his  first 
foundation  by  bribes ;  by  corrupting  the  courts  of 
justice ;  by  renewing  the  memory  of  Caius  Mari 
us,  and  his  party ;  for  most  of  the  senators  and 
nobility  were  of  Sylla's  faction :  by  the  laws  of 
distributing  the  fields,  amongst  the  common  peo 
ple  :  by  the  sedition  of  the  tribunes,  where  he  was 
^the  author :  by  the  madness  and  fury  of  Catiline, 
and  the  conspirators,  unto  which  action  he  secret 
ly  blew  the  coals  !  By  the  banishment  of  Cicero, 
which  was  the  greatest  blow  to  the  authority  of 
the  senate,  as  might  be;  and  several  other  the  like 
arts;  but  most  of  all  by  the  conjunction  of  Cras 
sus  and  Pompey,  both  betwixt  themselves,  and 
with  him ;  which  was  the  thing  that  finished  the 
work. 

Having  accomplished  this  part,  he  betook  him 
self  to  the  other  ;  which  was  to  make  use  of,  and 
to  enjoy  his  power.  For  being  made  proconsul 
pf  France  for  five  years ;  and  afterwards  continu 


ing  it  for  five  years  more;  he  furnished  himself 
with  arms  and  legions,  and  the  power  of  a  warlike 
and  opulent  province;  and  was  formidable  to 
Italy. 

Neither  was  he  ignorant,  that  after  he  had 
strengthened  himself  with  arms,  and  a  military 
power,  neither  Crassus  nor  Pompey  could  ever 
be  able  to  bear  up  against  him ;  whereof  the  one 
trusted  to  his  great  riches;  the  other  to  his  fame 
and  reputation  ;  the  one  decayed  through  age,  the 
other  in  power  and  authority  :  and  neither  of  them 
were  grounded  upon  true  and  lasting  foundations. 
And  the  rather,  for  that  he  had  obliged  all  the 
senators  and  magistrates:  and  in  a  word  all  those 
that  had  any  power  in  the  commonwealth,  so 
firmly  to  himself,  with  private  benefits,  that  he 
was  fearless  of  any  combination  or  opposition 
against  his  designs,  till  he  had  openly  invaded 
the  imperial  power. 

Which  thing,  though  he  always  bare  in  his 
mind,  and  at  the  last  acted  it;  yet  he  did  not  lay 
down  his  former  person  :  but  coloured  things  so, 
that  what  with  the  reasonableness  of  his  demands  ; 
what  with  his  pretences  of  peace;  and  what  with 
the  moderate  use  of  his  successes,  he  turned  .all 
the  envy  of  the  adverse  party ;  and  seemed  to 
take  up  arms  upon  necessity  for  his  own  preser 
vation  and  safety.  But  the  falseness  of  this  pre 
tence  manifestly  appeared,  inasmuch  as  soon 
after  having  obtained  the  regal  power,  all  civil 
wars  being  appeased,  and  all  his  rivals  and  oppo- 
sites,  which  might  put  him  to  any  fear,  being  re 
moved  out  of  the  way  by  the  stroke  of  death  ;  not 
withstanding  he  never  thought  of  resigning  the 
republic  ;  no,  nor  ever  made  any  show  or  offer  of 
resigning  the  same.  Which  showed  plainly,  that 
his  ambition  of  being  a  king  was  settled  in  him, 
and  remained  with  him  unto  his  last  breath.  For 
he  did  not  lay  hold  upon  occasions,  as  they  hap 
pened,  but  moulded  and  formed  the  occasions,  as 
himself  pleased. 

His  chief  abilities  consisted  in  martial  know 
ledge  ;  in  which  he  so  excelled,  that  he  could  not 
only  lead  an  army,  but  mould  an  army  to  his  own 
liking.  For  he  was  not  more  skilful  in  managing 
affairs,  than  in  winning  of  hearts.  Neither  did  he 
effect  this  by  any  ordinary  discipline,  as  by  inur 
ing  them  to  fulfil  all  his  commands;  or  by  strik 
ing  a  shame  into  them  to  disobey,  or  by  carrying 
a  severe  hand  over  them  :  but  by  such  a  wray  as 
did  wonderfully  stir  up  an  alacrity  and  cheerful 
ness  in  them;  and  did  in  a  sort  assure  him  of  the 
victory  aforehand,  and  which  did  oblige  the  soldier 
to  him,  more  than  was  fit  for  a  free  estate.  Now 
whereas  he  was  versed  in  all  kinds  of  martial 
knowledge,  and  joined  civil  arts,  with  the  arts  of 
war;  nothing  came  so  suddenly,  or  so  unlocked 
for  upon  him,  for  which  he  had  not  a  remedy  at 
hand :  and  nothing  was  so  adverse,  but  that  he 
could  pick  something  for  his  turn  and  benefit  out 
of  it. 


CIVIL  CHARACTER  OF  AUGUSTUS  C.ESAR. 


403 


He  stood  sufficiently  upon  his  state  and  great 
ness.  For  in  great  battles  he  would  sit  at  home 
in  the  head-quarter,  and  manage  all  things  by  mes 
sages,  which  wroughthim  a  double  benefit.  First, 
that  it  secured  his  person  more,  and  exposed  him 
the  less  to  danger.  Secondly,  that  if  at  any  time 
his  army  was  worsted,  he  could  put  new  spirit 
into  them  with  his  own  presence,  and  the  addition 
of  fresh  forces,  and  turn  the  fortune  of  tho  day. 
In  the  conducting  of  his  wars,  he  would  not  only 
follow  former  precedents,  but  he  was  able  to  de 
vise  and  pursue  new  stratagems,  according  as  the 
accidents  and  occasions  required. 

He  was  constant,  and  singularly  kind,  and  in 
dulgent  in  his  friendships  contracted.  Notwith 
standing,  he  made  choice  of  such  friends,  as  a 
man  might  easily  see,  that  he  chose  them  rather 
to  be  instruments  to  his  ends,  than  for  any  good 
will  towards  them.  And  whereas,  by  nature, 
and  out  of  a  firm  resolution,  he  adhered  to  this 
principle ;  not  to  be  eminent  amongst  great  and 
deserving  men,  but  to  be  chief  amongst  the  infe 
riors  and  vassals  ;  he  chose  only  mean  and  active 
men,  and  such  as  to  whom  himself  might  be  all  in 
all.  And  hereupon  grew  that  saying,  "  So  let 
Ccesar  live,  though  I  die;"  and  other  speeches 
of  that  kind.  As  for  the  nobility,  and  those  that 
\vere  his  peers,  he  contracted  friendship  with 
such  of  them  as  might  be  useful  to  him ;  and  ad 


mitted  none  to  his  cabinet  council,  but  those  that 
had  their  fortunes  wholly  depending  upon  him. 

He  was  moderately  furnished  with  good  litera 
ture,  and  the  arts  ;  but  in  such  sort  as  he  applied 
his  skill  therein  to  civil  policy.  For  he  was  well 
read  in  history ;  and  was  expert  in  rhetoric,  and 
the  art  of  speaking.  And  because  he  attributed 
much  to  his  good  stars,  he  would  pretend  more 
than  an  ordinary  knowledge  in  astronomy.  As 
for  eloquence,  and  a  prompt  elocution,  that  was 
natural  to  him  and  pure. 

He  was  dissolute,  and  propense  to  voluptuous 
ness  and  pleasures;  which  served  well  at  first 
for  a  cover  to  his  ambition.  For  no  man  would 
imagine,  that  a  man  so  loosely  given  could  har 
bour  any  ambitious  and  vast  thoughts  in  his  heart. 
Notwithstanding,  he  so  governed  his  pleasures, 
that  they  were  no  hinderance  either  to  his  profit 
or  his  business ;  and  they  did  rather  whet  than 
dull  the  vigour  of  his  mind.  He  was  temperate 
at  his  meals  ;  free  from  niceness  and  curiosity  in 
his  lusts  ;  pleasant  and  magnificent  at  public  in 
terludes. 

Thus  being  accomplished,  the  same  thing  was 
the  means  of  his  downfall  at  last,  which  in  his  be 
ginnings  was  a  step  to  his  rise ;  I  mean,  his  affec 
tion  of  popularity ;  for  nothing  is  more  popular 
than  to  forgive  our  enemies ;  through  which, 
either  virtue  or  cunning,  he  lost  his  life. 


CIVIL  CHARACTER  OF  AUGUSTUS  CJESAR. 

WRITTEN    IN    LATIN    BY    HIS    LORDSHIP,    AND    ENGLISHED    BY   DR.    RAWLEY. 


AUGUSTUS  CAESAR,  if  ever  any  mortal  man,  was 
endued  with  a  greatness  of  mind,  undisturbed 
with  passions,  clear  and  well  ordered ;  which  is 
evidenced  by  the  high  achievements  which  he  per 
formed  in  his  early  youth.  For  those  persons 
which  are  of  a  turbulent  nature  or  appetite,  do 
commonly  pass  their  youth  in  many  errors ;  and 
about  their  middle,  and  then  and  not  before,  they 
show  forth  their  perfections  :  but  those  that  are  of 
a  sedate  and  calm  nature  may  be  ripe  for  great 
and  glorious  actions  in  their  youth.  And  whereas 
the  faculties  of  the  mind,  no  less  than  the  parts 
and  members  of  the  body,  do  consist  and  flourish 
in  a  good  temper  of  health,  and  beauty,  and 
strength ;  so  he  was  in  the  strength  of  the  mind 
inferior  to  his  uncle  Julius ;  but  the  health  and 
beauty  of  the  mind  superior.  For  Julius  being 
of  an  unquiet  and  uncomposed  spirit,  as  those 
who  are  troubled  with  the  falling  sickness  for  the 
most  part  are.  Notwithstanding,  he  carried  on 


his  own  ends  with  much  moderation  and  discre 
tion;  but  he  did  not  order  his  ends  well,  pro 
posing  to  himself  vast  and  high  designs  above  the 
reach  of  a  mortal  man.  But  Augustus,  as  a  man 
sober  and  mindful  of  his  mortality,  seemed  to 
propound  no  other  ends  to  himself  than  such  as 
were  orderly  and  well-weighed  and  governed  by 
reason.  For  first  he  was  desirous  indeed  to  have 
the  rule  and  principality  in  his  hands:  then  he 
sought  to  appear  worthy  of  that  power  which  he 
should  acquire  :  next,  to  enjoy  a  high  place  he 
accounted  but  a  transitory  thing :  lastly,  he  en 
deavoured  to  do  such  actions  as  might  continue 
his  memory  and  leave  an  impression  of  his  good 
government  to  after  ages.  And,  therefore,  in  the 
beginning  of  his  age,  he  affected  power;  in  the 
middle  of  his  age,  honour  and  dignity;  in  the  de 
cline  of  his  years,  ease  and  pleasure ;  and  in  tho 
end  of  his  life,  he  was  wholly  bent  to  memory  and 
posterity. 


THE  PRAISE  OF 

HENRY,    PRINCE    OF    WALES, 

BY  FRANCIS  BACON. 

WRITTEN   IN   LATIN   BY    HIS   LORDSHIP.    AND   TRANSLATED   BY   DR.   BIRCH.* 


HENRY,  Prince  of  Wales,  eldest  son  of  the  King 
of  Great  Britain,  happy  in  the  hopes  conceived  of 
him,  and  now  happy  in  his  memory,  died  on  the 
6th  of  Nov.  1612,  to  the  extreme  concern  and  re 
gret  of  the  whole  kingdom,  being  a  youth  who 
had  neither  offended  nor  satiated  the  minds  of 
men.  He  had  by  the  excellence  of  his  disposition 
excited  high  expectations  among  great  numbers  of 
all  ranks;  nor  had  through  the  shortness  of  his 
life  disappointed  them.  One  capital  circumstance 
added  to  these  was,  the  esteem  in  which  he  was 
commonly  held,  of  being  firm  to  the  cause  of  re 
ligion:  and  men  of  the  best  judgment  were  fully 
persuaded,  that  his  life  was  a  great  support  and 
security  to  his  father  from  the  danger  of  conspira 
cies;  an  evil,  against  which  our  age  has  scarce 
found  a  remedy ;  so  that  the  people's  love  of  re 
ligion  and  the  king  overflowed  to  the  prince :  and 
this  consideration  deservedly  heightened  the  sense 
of  the  loss  of  him.  His  person  was  strong  and 
erect;  his  stature  of  a  middle  size;  his  limbs  well 
made;  his  gait  and  deportment  majestic;  his  face 
long  and  inclining  to  leanness  :  his  habit  of  body 
full ;  his  look  grave,  and  the  motion  of  his  eyes 
rather  composed  than  spirited.  In  his  counte 
nance  were  some  marks  of  severity,  and  in  his  air 
some  appearance  of  haughtiness.  But  whoever 
looked  beyond  these  outward  circumstances,  and 
addressed  and  softened  him  with  a  due  respect  and 
seasonable  discourse,  found  the  prince  to  be  gra 
cious  and  easy  ;  so  that  he  seemed  wholly  differ 
ent  in  conversation  from  what  he  was  in  appear 
ance,  and  in  fact  raised  in  others  an  opinion  of  him 
self  very  unlike  what  his  manner  would  at  first 
have  suggested.  He  was  unquestionably  ambi 
tious  of  commendation  and  glory,  and  was  strong 
ly  affected  by  every  appearance  of  what  is  good  and 
honourable;  which  in  a  young  man  is  to  be  con 
sidered  as  virtue.  Arms  and  military  men  were 

*  He  says,  "  The  following  translation  is  an  attempt,  for  the 
sake  of  the  English  reader,  to  give  the  sense  of  the  original, 
without  pretending  to  reach  the  force  and  conciseness  of  ex 
pression  peculiar  to  the  great  writer  as  well  as  to  the  Roman 
language." 
404 


highly  valued  by  him ;  and  he  breathed  himself 
something  warlike.  He  wras  much  devoted  to 
the  magnificence  of  buildings  and  works  of  all 
dnds,  though  in  other  respects  rather  frugal ;  and 
was  a  lover  both  of  antiquity  and  arts.  He  show 
ed  his  esteem  of  learning  in  general  more  by  the 
countenance  which  he  gave  to  it,  than  by  the  time 
which  he  spent  in  it.  His  conduct  in  respect  of 
norals  did  him  the  utmost  honour;  for  he  was 
thought  exact  in  the  knowledge  and  practice  of 
every  duty.  His  obedience  to  the  king  his  father 
was  wonderfully  strict  and  exemplary  :  towards 
the  queen  he  behaved  with  the  highest  reverence  : 
to  his  brother  he  was  indulgent;  arid  had  an  en 
tire  affection  for  his  sister,  whom  he  resembled  in 
person  as  much  as  that  of  a  young  man  could  the 
beauty  of  a  virgin.  The  instructors  of  his  younger 
years  (which  rarely  happens)  continued  high  in 
his  favour.  In  conversation  he  both  expected  a 
proper  decorum,  and  practised  it.  In  the  daily 
business  of  life  and  the  allotment  of  hours  for  the 
several  offices  of  it,  he  was  more  constant  and  re 
gular  than  is  usual  at  his  age.  His  affections  and 
passions  were  not  strong,  but  rather  equal  than 
warm.  With  regard  to  that  of  love,  there  was  a 
wonderful  silence,  considering  his  age,  so  that  he 
passed  that  dangerous  time  of  his  youth,  in  the 
highest  fortune,  and  in  a  vigorous  state  of  health, 
without  any  remarkable  imputation  of  gallantry. 
In  his  court  no  person  was  observed  to  have  any 
ascendant  over  him,  or  strong  interest  with  him  • 
and  even  the  studies,  with  which  he  was  most  de 
lighted,  had  rather  proper  times  assigned  them, 
than  were  indulged  to  excess,  and  were  rather  re 
peated  in  their  turns,  than  that  any  one  kind  of 
them  had  the  preference  of  and  controlled  the 
rest :  whether  this  arose  from  the  moderation  of  his 
temper,  and  that  in  a  genius  not  very  forward,  but 
ripening  by  slow  degrees,  it  did  not  yet  appear 
what  would  be  the  prevailing  object  of  his  incli 
nation.  He  had  certainly  strong  parts,  and  was 
endued  both  with  curiosity  and  capacity ;  but  in 
speech  he  was  slow,  and  in  some  measure  hesi- 


THE  PRAISE  OF  HENRY,  PRINCE  OF  WALES. 


405 


tating.  But  whoever  diligently  observed  what  fell 
from  him,  either  by  way  of  question  or  remark, 
saw  it  to  be  full  to  the  purpose,  and  expressive  of 
no  common  genius.  So  that  under  that  slowness 
and  infrequency  of  discourse,  his  judgment  had 
more  the  appearance  of  suspense  and  solicitude  to 
determine  rightly,  than  of  weakness  and  want  of 
apprehension.  In  the  mean  time  he  was  wonder 
fully  patient  in  hearing,  even  in  business  of  the 
greatest  length ;  and  this  with  unwearied  atten 
tion,  so  that  his  mind  seldom  wandered  from  the 
subject,  or  seemed  fatigued,  but  he  applied  him 
self  wholly  to  what  was  said  or  done  :  which  (if 
his  life  had  been  lengthened)  promised  a  very  su 
perior  degree  of  prudence.  There  were  indeed  in 


the  prince  some  things  obscure,  and  not  to  be  dis 
covered  by  the  sagacity  of  any  person,  but  by 
time  only,  which  was  denied  him ;  but  what  ap 
peared  were  excellent,  which  is  sufficient  for  his 
fame. 

He  died  in  the  19th  year  of  his  age  of  an  ob 
stinate  fever,  which  during  the  summer,  through 
the  excessive  heat  and  dryness  of  the  season,  un 
usual  to  islands,  had  been  epidemical,  though  not 
fatal,  but  in  autumn  became  more  mortal.  Fame 
which,  as  Tacitus  says,  is  more  tragical  with  re 
spect  to  the  deaths  of  princes,  added  a  suspicion 
of  poison  :  but  as  no  signs  of  this  appeared,  espe 
cially  in  his  stomach,  which  uses  to  be  chiefly 
affected  by  poison,  this  report  soon  vanished. 


MISCELLANEOUS    TRACTS. 

[TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  LATIN.] 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THINGS .* 


Of  the  Division  of  Bodies,  of  Continuity,  and  a 
Vacuum. 

THOUGHT  I. 

THE  theory  of  Democritus  relating  to  atoms  is, 
if  not  true,  at  least  applicable  with  excellent  effect 
to  the  exposition  of  nature.  For  it  is  not  easy, 
except  on  the  hypothesis  of  atomic  particles,  ei 
ther  to  grasp  in  thought,  or  express  in  words,  the 
real  exility  of  parts  in  nature,  such  as  it  is  disco 
verable  in  objects  themselves. 

Now,  the  term  atom  is  taken  in  two  senses,  not 
materially  different  from  one  another.  It  is  taken 
either  to  signify  the  ultimate  term,  the  minutest 
subdivision,  in  the  section  or  breaking  down  of 
bodies ;  or  a  corpuscle  containing  in  it  no  vacuum. 
As  relates  to  the  first,  the  two  following  princi 
ples  may  be  safely  and  surely  laid  down.  The 
first  is,  that  there  exists  in  objects  an  attenuation 
and  minuteness  of  particles,  far  exceeding  all  that 
falls  under  ocular  observation.  The  second  is, 
that  it  is  not  carried  to  infinity,  or  endless  divisi 
bility.  For  if  one  needfully  attend,  he  will  find 
that  the  corpuscles  composing  bodies  which  pos 
sess  continuity,  far  transcend  in  subtility  those 
which  are  found  in  broken  and  discontinuous 
ones.  Thus  we  see  a  little  saffron,  intermixed 
and  stirred  in  water,  (a  cask  of  water  for  instance,) 
impart  to  it  such  a  tincture,  that  even  by  the  eye 
it  is  easy  distinguishable  from  pure  water.  The 
particles  of  the  saffron  thus  disseminated  through 
the  water,  certainly  exceed  in  fineness  the  most 
impalpable  powder.  This  will  become  still  clearer, 
if  you  mingle  with  the  water  a  small  portion  of 
Brazilian-wood  ground  to  a  powder,  or  of  pome 
granate  flowers,  or  of  any  other  very  high  coloured 
substance,  yet  which  wants  the  susceptibility  of 
saffron  to  diffuse  itself  in  liquids,  and  incorporate 
with  them. 

It  was  therefore  absurd  to  take  atoms  to  be  those 
minute  particles  which  are  visible  by  the  aid  of 
the  sun's  light.  For  these  are  of  the  nature  of  a 
L  *  This  is  the  translation  of  my  friend  Wm.  G.  Glen.— [B.  M.] 


powder,  but  an  atom,  as  Democritus  said  himself, 
no  one  either  has  seen  or  can  possibly  see.  Bui 
this  dispersion  of  substance  presents  itself  in  a 
still  more  surprising  light  in  odours.  For  if  a 
little  saffron  can  tinge  and  impregnate  a  whole 
cask  of  water,  a  little  civet  does  so  to  a  spacious 
chamber,  and  to  a  second,  and  a  third  successive 
ly.  And  let  none  imagine  that  odours  can  be 
propagated  like  light,  or  heat  and  cold,  without  a 
stream  of  effluvia  from  the  substance,  since  we 
may  observe  that  odours  are  tenacious  of  solids, 
of  woods,  of  metallic  substances,  and  for  no  incon 
siderable  time,  and  that  they  can  be  extracted  and 
cleansed  away  from  these,  by  the  process  of  rub 
bing  and  washing.  But  that  in  these  and  similar 
cases,  the  subtilization  is  not  carried  to  infinity, 
no  man  in  his  senses  will  dispute,  since  this  sort 
of  radiation  or  diffusion  is  confined  to  certain 
spaces,  and  local  boundaries,  and  to  certain  quan 
tities  of  substance,  as  is  very  conspicuous  in  the 
abovementioned  instances. 

As  relates  to  atom  in  its  second  sense,  which 
presupposes  the  existence  of  a  vacuum,  and  builds 
its  definition  of  atom  on  the  absence  of  the  va 
cuum;  it  was  an  excellent  and  valuable  distinc 
tion  which  Hero  so  carefully  drew,  when  he  de 
nied  the  existence  of  a  vacuum  coacervatum,  (or 
fully  formed,)  and  affirmed  a  vacuum  commistum 
(or  interstitial  vacuum.)  For  when  he  saw  that 
there  was  one  unbroken  chain  of  bodies,  and  that 
no  point  of  space  would  be  discovered  or  instanced, 
which  was  not  replenished  with  body ;  and  much 
more,  when  he  perceived  that  bodies  weighty  and 
massive  tended  upwards,  and  as  it  were  repu 
diated  and  violated  their  natures  rather  than  suffer 
complete  disruption  from  the  contiguous  body ; 
he  came  to  the  full  determination  that  nature  ab 
horred  a  vacuum  of  the  larger  description,  or  a 
vacuum  coacervatum.  On  the  other  hand,  when 
he  observed  the  same  quantity  of  matter  compos 
ing  a  body  in  a  state  of  contraction  and  coarcta- 
tion,  and  again  in  one  of  expansion  and  dilatation, 
occupying  and  filling  unequal  spaces,  sometimes 

406 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THINGS. 


407 


smaller,  sometimes  greater,  he  did  not  see  in  what 
manner  this  going  out  and  in  of  corpuscles,  in  re 
ference  to  their  position  in  that  body,  could  exist, 
except  in  consequence  of  an  interspersed  vacuum, 
contracting  on  the  compression,  and  enlarging  on 
the  relaxation,  of  the  body.  For  it  was  clear  that 
this  contraction  of  necessity  was  produced  in  one 
of  three  ways  ;  either  in  that  which  we  have  spe 
cified,  namely,  the  expulsion  of  a  vacuum  by 
means  of  pressure,  or  the  extrusion  of  some  other 
body  previously  incorporated,  or  the  possession  by 
bodies  of  some  natural  virtue  (whatever  it  might 
be)  of  concentration  and  diffusion  within  them 
selves.  As  relates  to  the  extrusion  of  the  rarer 
body,  it  is  a  mode  of  reasoning  that  involves  us  in 
an  endless  series  of  such  expulsions.  For  true  it 
is,  that  sponges  and  the  like  porous  substances, 
contract  by  the  ejection  of  the  air.  But  with  re 
spect  to  air  itself,  it  is  clear  from  manifold  experi 
ments  that  it  can  be  condensed  in  a  known  space. 
Are  we  then  to  suppose  that  the  finer  part  of  air 
itself  may  be  thus  eliminated  by  compressure, 
and  of  the  eliminated  part  another  part,  and  so  on 
to  infinity1?  For  it  is  a  fact  most  decidedly  ad 
verse  to  such  an  opinion,  that,  the  rarer  bodies  are, 
they  are  susceptible  of  the  more  contraction ;  when 
the  contrary  ought  to  be  the  fact,  if  contraction 
was  performed  by  expressing  the  rarer  portion  of 
the  substance.  As  to  that  other  mode  of  solution, 
namely,  that  the  same  bodies  without  farther  al 
teration  undergo  various  degrees  of  rarity  and 
density,  it  is  not  worthy  of  elaborate  attention.  It 
seems  to  be  an  arbitrary  dictum,  depending  on  no 
cognisable  reason,  or  intelligible  principle,  like 
the  generality  of  the  dogmas  of  Aristotle.  There 
remains  then  the  third  way,  the  hypothesis  of  a 
vacuum.  Should  any  one  object  to  this,  that  it 
appears  a  difficult  and  even  impossible  supposi 
tion,  that  there  should  exist  an  interspersed  vacu 
ity,  where  body  is  everywhere  found  ;  if  he  will 
only  reflect  calmly  and  maturely  on  the  instances 
we  have  just  adduced,  of  water  imbued  with  saf 
fron,  or  air  with  odours,  he  will  readily  discover 
that  no  portion  of  the  water  can  be  pointed  out 
where  there  is  not  the  saffron,  and  yet  it  is  mani 
fest,  by  comparing  the  saffron  and  the  water  pre 
vious  to  their  intermixture,  that  the  bulk  of  the 
water  exceeds  by  many  times  the  bulk  of  the  saf 
fron.  Now,  if  so  subtile  an  interspersion  is  found 
to  take  place  in  different  bodies,  much  more  is 
such  interspersion  possible  in  the  case  of  a  body 
and  a  vacuum. 

Yet  the  theory  of  Hero,  a  mere  experimentalist, 
fell  short  of  that  of  the  illustrious  philosopher, 
Democritus,  in  this  particular  point,  namely,  that 
Hero,  not  finding  in  this  our  globe  a  vacuum  coa- 
cervatum,  denied  it,  therefore,  absolutely.  Now, 
there  is  nothing  to  hinder  the  existence  of  a  com 
plete  vacuity  in  the  tracts  of  air,  where  there  are, 
undoubtedly,  greater  diffusions  of  substances. 

And  let  me  give  this  once  the  admonition,  that, 


in  these  and  similar  investigations,  none  be  over 
powered  or  despair,  because  of  the  surpassing 
subtilty  of  nature.  Let  him  reflect  that  things, 
in  their  units  and  their  aggregates,  are  equally 
mastered  by  calculation.  For,  one  expresses  or 
conceives  with  the  same  facility  a  thousand  years 
and  a  thousand  moments,  though  years  are  com 
posed  of  multitudes  of  moments.  And,  again, 
let  no  one  think  that  such  studies  are  matter  of 
speculative  curiosity,  rather  than  connected  with 
practical  effects  and  uses.  For,  it  is  observable, 
that  almost  all  the  philosophers  and  others,  who 
have  most  intensely  busied  themselves,  who  have 
probed  nature  to  the  quick,  as  it  were,  in  the  pro 
cess  of  experiment  and  practical  detail;  have 
been  led  on  to  such  investigations,  though  unfor 
tunate  in  the  mode  of  conducting  them.  Nor 
does  there  exist  a  more  powerful  and  more  certain 
cause  of  that  utter  barrenness  of  utility  which 
distinguishes  the  philosophy  of  the  day,  than  its 
ambitious  affectation  of  subtilty  about  mere  words 
or  vulgar  notions,  while  it  has  neither  p.ursued 
nor  planned  a  well  supported  investigation  of  the 
subtilty  of  nature. 

Of  the  equality  or  inequality  of  Atoms,  or  seminal 
Particles. 

II. 

The  theories  and  maxims  of  Pythagoras  were, 
for  the  most  part,  better  adapted  to  found  a  pecu 
liar  order  of  religionists,  than  to  open  a  new 
school  in  philosophy,  as  was  verified  by  the 
event.  For,  that  system  of  training  prevailed 
and  flourished  more  under  the  sway  of  the  Mani- 
chaean  heresy  and  Mahomedan  superstition,  than 
among  philosophic  individuals.  Notwithstanding 
this,  his  opinion  that  the  world  was  composed  of 
numbers,  may  be  taken  in  a  sense  in  which  it 
goes  deep  into  the  elementary  principles  of  na 
ture.  For,  there  are  (as  indeed  there  may  be) 
two  doctrines  with  respect  to  atoms  or  seminal 
particles;  the  one  that  of  Democritus,  which 
ascribes  to  atoms  inequality  one  to  another,  figure. 
and,  in  virtue  of  figure,  position;  the  other,  that 
of  Pythagoras,  perhaps,  which  affirms  them  to  be 
all  precisely  equal  and  alike.  Now,  he  who 
ascribes  to  atoms  equality,  necessarily  makes 
all  things  depend  on  numbers ;  while  he  who 
clothes  them  with  other  attributes,  admits,  in 
addition  to  mere  numbers,  or  modes  of  assem 
blage,  certain  primitive  properties  inherent  in 
single  atoms.  Now,  the  practical  question  colla 
teral  to  the  theoretical  one,  and  which  ought  to 
determine  its  limits,  is  this,  which  Democritus 
proposes :  whether  all  things  can  be  made  out  of 
all  1  To  me,  however,  this  question  appears  not 
to  have  been  maturely  weighed,  if  it  be  under 
stood  as  referring  to  an  immediate  transmutation 
of  bodies.  It  is,  whether  all  things  do  not  pass 
through  an  appointed  circuit  and  succession  of 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THINGS. 


transformations,  that  is  the  legitimate  subject 
of  inquiry.  For,  there  is  not  a  doubt  that  the 
elementary  particles,  though  they  were  originally 
equal,  become,  after  having  been  cast  into  certain 
assemblages  and  knots,  entirely  impregnated  with 
the  nature  of  the  dissimilar  bodies  they  compose, 
till  the  several  assemblages  or  knots  of  matter 
undergo  solution ;  so  that  the  properties  and  affec 
tions  of  things  in  concretion,  offer  no  less  resist 
ance  and  impediment  to  immediate  transmutation, 
than  of  things  in  their  simplest  elements.  But 
Democritus,  acute  as  he  is  in  tracing  the  principles 
of  quiescent  body,  is  found  unequal  to  himself, 
and  deficient  in  knowledge  of  his  subject,  when 
he  comes  to  examine  the  principles  of  motion ;  a 
common  failing  of  all  the  philosophers.  And,  I 
know  not  but  the  investigations  we  are  now 
handling,  of  the  primary  character  of  seminal 
and  atomic  particles,  is  of  a  utility  greatly  supe 
rior  to  all  others  whatsoever,  as  forming  the 
sovereign  rule  of  action  and  of  power,  and  the 
true  criterion  of  hope  and  operation.  Another 
inquiry,  also,  proceeds  from  it,  less  comprehen 
sively  useful,  indeed,  in  its  scope,  but  more 
immediately  connected  with  practice  and  use 
ful  works.  It  is  respecting  separation  and  al 
teration,  that  is,  what  operations  are  the  effect 
of  separation,  and  what  of  the  other  process. 
For,  it  is  an  error  habitual  to  the  human  mind, 
and  which  has  derived  great  force  and  depth  from 
the  philosophy  of  the  alchymists,  to  ascribe  those 
appearances  to  separation  which  look  quite  the 
other  way.  For  instance,  when  water  passes 
into  the  state  of  vapour,  one  would  readily  sup 
pose  that  the  more  subtile  part  of  the  fluid  was 
extricated,  and  the  grosser  remained,  as  is  seen 
in  wood,  where  part  flies  off  in  flame  and  smoke, 
part  is  left  in  the  form  of  ashes.  One  might  infer 
that  something  analogous  to  this  takes  place  in 
the  water  also,  though  not  so  discernible  to  obser 
vation.  For,  though  the  whole  mass  of  water  is 
observed  to  bubble  up  and  waste  away,  yet  it 
might  occur,  that  a  sort  of  sediment  of  it,  its 
ashes,  as  it  were,  still  remained  in  the  vessel. 
Yet,  such  an  impression  is  delusive;  for  it  is 
most  certain,  that  the  entire  body  of  water  may 
be  converted  into  air,  and  if  any  portion  still 
continues  in  the  vessel,  that  does  not  happen  in 
consequence  of  its  separation  and  segregation  as 
the  grosser  part,  but  because  a  certain  quantity 
of  the  fluid,  though  of  precisely  the  same  sub 
stance  with  the  part  which  evaporates,  remains  in 
contact  with  the  internal  surface  of  the  vessel. 
The  same  thing  is  distinctly  visible  in  the  case 
of  quicksilver,  the  whole  of  which  is  volatilized 
and  then  condensed  again  without  the  subtraction 
of  the  smallest  particle.  In  the  oil  of  lamps,  too, 
and  in  the  tallow  of  candles,  the  whole  of  the  fat 
is  sublimated,  and  there  is  no  incineration, 
for  the  fuliginous  matter  is  formed,  not  before, 


but  after  the  ignition,  and  is,  so  to  speak,  the 
corpse  of  the  flame,  not  a  deposition  of  the  oil 
or  tallow. 

And  this  lays  open  one  way  to  overturn  the 
theory  of  Democritus,  with  respect  to  the  diver 
sity  of  seminal  particles  or  atoms ;  a  way,  I  say, 
in  the  process  of  investigating  nature  herself:  in 
opinion,  indeed,  there  is  another  way  to  overturn 
it,  much  more  smooth  and  easy,  as  the  received 
philosophy  assumes  its  phantasmal  matter  to  be 
common  to  the  forms  of  nature,  and  equally  sus 
ceptible  of  them  all. 

Of  the  Remissness  of  the  Jlncients  in  investigating 
Motion  and  moving  Principles. 

III. 

To  place  the  investigation  of  nature  chiefly  in 
the  consideration  and  examination  of  motion,  is 
the  characteristic  of  him  who  has  an  eye  to  prac 
tical  effect  as  his  object.  And  to  indulge  in  me 
ditation  and  revery,  respecting  the  principles  of 
nature  viewed  as  quiescent,  belongs  to  such  as 
desire  to  spin  out  dissertations,  or  supply  matter 
of  argumentative  subtlety.  Now  those  princi 
ples  I  call  quiescent,  which  inform  us  of  what 
elements  things  are  compounded,  and  consist; 
but  not  by  what  energy  or  in  what  way  they 
effect  these  coalitions.  For  it  is  not  enough, 
with  a  view  to  action  and  the  enlargement  of  the 
power  and  operation  of  man,  nor  does  it  in  fact 
bear  materially  on  these  ends  at  all,  to  know 
what  are  the  constituent  parts  of  things,  if  you 
are  ignorant  of  the  modes  and  processes  of  their 
transformations  and  metamorphoses.  For  to  take 
an  example  from  the  mechanical  adepts,  (in  whose 
heated  imagination  those  famous  speculations 
regarding  the  first  principles  of  nature  appear  to 
have  had  their  origin,)  is  the  man  who  knows 
the  simples  that  enter  into  the  composition  of  an 
alexipharmic,  (or  antidote,)  necessarily  able  in 
consequence,  to  prepare  an  alexipharmic  1  Or  is 
he  who  has  got  a  correct  analysis  of  the  ingre 
dients  of  sugar,  glass,  or  canvass,  to  be  therefore 
supposed  a  master  of  the  art  of  their  preparation 
and  manufacture1?  Yet  it  is  in  speculating  and 
inquiring  with  respect  to  this  description  of  dead 
principles,  that  the  meditations  of  men  have 
been  hitherto  principally  absorbed :  as  if  one 
were,  of  set  purpose  and  resolution,  to  employ 
himself  in  poring  over  the  dissection  of  the  dead 
carcass  of  nature,  rather  than  to  set  himself  to 
ascertain  the  powers  and  properties  of  living 
nature.  Indeed,  the  examination  of  the  princi 
ples  of  motion  is  generally  looked  upon  as  a 
matter  by  the  way,  so  that  it  passes  admiration 
in  what  a  perfunctory  and  remiss  manner,  a  sub 
ject  of  all  others  the  most  momentous  and  most 
useful,  has  been  investigated  and  treated.  For,  to 
turn  our  attention  for  a  moment  to  the  themes 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THINGS 


409 


which  are  actually  discoursed  of;  will  the  im 
pulse  communicated  to  matter  by  privation,  the 
formation  of  matter  on  mind,  (or  archetypal 
ideas,)  the  coalition  of  like  particles,  the  fortui 
tous  play  of  atoms  in  vacancy,  the  enmity  and 
friendship  supposed  to  exist  in  substances,  the 
mutual  action  of  heaven  and  earth  on  one  another, 
the  commerce  of  the  elements  by  the  intermedia 
tion  of  consenting  properties,  the  influence  of  the 
celestial  bodies,  occult  and  specific  medicinal 
powers  and  properties  of  drugs,  fate,  fortune, 
necessity;  will,  I  say,  such  vague  generalities  as 
these,  which  are  nothing  but  phantasms  and 
spectral  illusions,  floating  about  and  playing  on 
the  surface  of  things,  as  in  water,  really  advance 
the  blessings,  or  effectually  augment  the  powers 
of  man?  They  indeed  occupy  or  rather  inflate 
the  imagination,  but  contribute  absolutely  nothing 
to  establish  new  methods  of  working  nature,  to 
the  power  of  altering  her  forms,  or  commanding 
her  motions.  And,  again,  all  their  attempts  to 
reason  and  subtilize  regarding  motion,  natural 
and  violent,  motion  self-determined  or  impressed 
exteriorly,  the  limitations  of  motion,  these  too  do 
not  enter  to  any  depth  the  trunk  of  nature,  but 
show  rather  like  figures  inscribed  in  the  bark. 
Wherefore  dismissing  such  speculations,  or  con 
demning  them  to  exile  among  the  theatres  of 
popular  display,  we  must  make  it  our  business  to 
trace  those  affections  and  tendencies  of  things, 
by  which  that  surprising  multiplicity  of  effects 
and  of  changes,  visible  alike  in  the  works  of  art 
and  of  nature,  grows  up  and  emerges  into  view. 
We  must  thus  endeavour  to  bind  nature  as  a 
Proteus;  for  the  various  species  of  motions,  duly 
discovered  and  methodically  discriminated,  may 
be  regarded  as  the  true  bonds  to  tie  this  Proteus 
withal.  For  according  as  the  just  impulses  and 
restraints  of  motion,  that  is,  of  matter  stimulated 
to  activity  or  restrained  in  it,  are  invented  and 
applied,  there  follows  the  capacity  of  modifying 
and  transmuting  matter  itself. 

Of  the  common  Division  of  Motion,  that  it  is 
equally  deficient  in  point  of  Utility  and  Dis 
crimination. 

IV. 

The  division  of  motion  in  the  philosophy  in 
vogue  appears  to  be  superficial  and  without  foun 
dation,  as  it  forms  its  distribution  of  it  only  by 
its  effects,  and  does  not  at  all  conduce  to  our 
knowledge  of  it  by  its  causes.  For  generation, 
corruption,  increase,  diminution,  alteration,  re 
moval  to  place,  are  only  the  operations  and  effects 
of  motions,  which  having  attained  to  the  produc 
tion  of  a  visible  transmutation  of  things,  palpa 
ble  to  vulgar  observation,  are  (in  the  inertness  of 
common  apprehension)  distinguished  by  these 
appellations.  We  have  no  doubt  that  the  mean 
ing  of  the  terms  stands  thus : — that  when  bodies, 

VOL.  I.— 52 


in  the  progression  of  their  motion,  (of  whatever 
character  the  motion  be  )  have  reached  that  point 
at  which  they  assume  a  new  form,  or  lay  aside 
the  old,  (forming  a  sort  of  full  break,  and  the 
completion  of  a  regular  stage  of  that  motion,) 
this  is  termed  the  motion  of  generation  and  cor 
ruption.  Again,  if,  the  configuration  remaining 
the  same,  they  acquire  only  a  new  quantity  or 
measure  of  dimension,  this  is  called  the  motion 
of  increase  and  diminution ;  so  also,  if  the  mass 
and  the  outline  of  the  object  remain  unaltered, 
yet  its  quality,  operations,  and  properties,  under 
go  change,  this  is  said  to  be  the  motion  of  altera 
tion  ;  lastly,  if  the  body  continue  unmodified  in 
figure,  matter,  and  quantity,  but  change  its  place, 
and  that  only,  this  is  indicated  by  the  words, 
motion  of  removal.  But  to  him  who  looks  into 
this  matter  with  something  more  of  penetration 
and  accuracy,  these  phrases  will  appear  to  repre 
sent  only  points  in  the  measurement  of  motion, 
pauses  and  breaks  in  it,  or,  as  it  were,  the  suc 
cessive  courses  motions  have  to  run,  and  tasks 
they  have  to  perform,  but  to  convey  no  real  dis 
tinctions;  as  they  only  point  to  that  which  has 
been  done,  but  scarcely  even  hint  at  the  mode  of 
doing  it.  Words  of  this  description  are  required 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  information,  and  adjust 
ed  to  the  forms  of  the  scholastic  logic,  but  they 
are  utterly  unproductive  of  physical  knowledge. 
For  they  all  signify  motions  combined,  re-com 
bined,  and  in  manifold  ways  still  further  com 
bined;  whereas  men  of  more  acute  meditation 
ought  to  penetrate  to  simpler  principles.  For  the 
principles,  the  sources,  the  causes,  and  the  modes 
of  motion,  that  is,  the  tendencies  and  appetencies 
of  every  form  of  matter,  are  the  proper  field  of 
philosophy;  and  so  in  their  order  the  modes  of 
communicating  and  stimulating  motion,  its  re 
straints,  retardations,  lines,  impediments,  its 
reactions  and  combinations,  its  indirect  paths  and 
concatenations,  in  short,  the  entire  progression  of 
motions.  For  of  little  avail  are  windy  disputa 
tions,  or  specious  discourses,  or  vague  medita 
tions,  or,  lastly,  plausible  maxims.  The  busi 
ness  is,  by  well  digested  methods,  and  a  manage 
ment  adapted  to  nature,  to  acquire  a  capacity  to 
control,  to  intensify,  to  remit,  to  combine  with 
other  motions,  to  let  gently  down,  to  bring  to  a 
pause  the  motion  of  every  portion  of  susceptible 
matter,  and  so  to  accomplish  the  conservation, 
the  modification,  and  the  transformation  of  bodies. 
We  must,  however,  direct  our  inquiries  princi 
pally  to  those  motions  which  are  uncompounded, 
original,  ultimate,  of  which  the  rest  are  constitu 
ted.  For  it  is  most  unquestionable,  that  in  pro 
portion  as  simpler  motions  are  discovered,  in  the 
same  proportion  will  the  power  of  man  be 
augmented,  delivered  from  the  trammel  of  using 
only  specific  and  elaborated  substances,  and 
invigorated  to  strike  out  new  lines  of  operation. 
And,  assuredly,  since  the  words  or  vocables  of 
2M 


410 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THINGS. 


all  languages,  in  all  their  prodigious  variety,  are 
compounded  of  a  few  simple  characters,  so,  in 
.like  manner,  are  the  agencies  and  powers  of  the 
universe  composed  of  a  few  primary  properties  or 
original  springs  of  motion.  And  disgraceful 
would  it  be  to  mankind,  to  have  studied  with 
such  pertinacious  exactness  the  tinkle  of  their 
own  utterance ;  hut  to  have  been  in  the  tongue 
of  nature  unlearned,  and  like  the  barbarians  of 
primeval  times,  before  letters  were  invented,  dis- 
tino-uishing  only  the  compounded  sound  or  ex 
pression,  but  incapable  of  analyzing  it  into 
elementary  tones  and  characters. 

Of  a  fixed  Sum  of  Matter,  and  that  Change  takes 
place  without  Annihilation  of  Substance. 

V. 

That  all   things   change,  that  nothing  really 
perishes,  and  the  mass  of  matter  remains  abso 
lutely  the  same,  is  sufficiently  evident.     And  as 
the  Divine  omnipotence  was  required  to  create 
any  thing  out  of  nothing,  so  also  is  that  omnipo 
tence   to   make   any   thing  lapse   into    nothing. 
Whether  that  would  take  place,  by  a  withdrawing 
of  the  preserving  energy,  or  by  the  act  of  anni 
hilation,  is  of  no  importance;  this  much  is  neces 
sary,  the  interposition  of  a  decree  of  the  Creator. 
Having  laid  down  this  as  an  aphorism,  we  would, 
in  order  to  fix  the  wandering  of  the  mind,  and 
prevent  the  supposition  that  we  mean  some  in 
vented  matter  of  the  schools,  intimate  thus  much 
in  further  explanation;  namely,  that  the  matter 
here  introduced  by  us,  is  such,  and  with  such 
attributes  invested,  that  it  may  be  truly  affirmed 
of  it,  that  more  of  that  matter  is  present  in  one 
body,  and   less  (though   they  occupy  the   same 
dimensions)   in  another.     For  instance,  there  is 
more  of  it  in  lead,  less  in  water,  greatly  less  still 
in  air,  and  that  not  in  a  vague  sense,  or  a  dubious 
and  unsatisfactory  manner,  but  specifically,  so  as 
to  be  matter  of  exact  computation,  as  that  there  is 
twice  as  much  of  it  in  this  body,  thrice  as  much 
in  that,  and  so  on.     If  any  one  were  to  say,  then, 
that  air  could  be  made  out  of  water,  or  water, 
again,  out  of  air,  I  should  listen  to  him ;    but 
should  he  say,  that  a  like  quantity  of  water  could 
be  made  into  a  like  quantity  of  air,  I  should  not 
listen.     For  that  would  be  equivalent  to  sayin 
that  something  could  be  made  into  nothing.     In 
like  manner,  conversely,  if  he  were  to  say  that  a 
determinate  quantity  of  air  (that,  for  example, 
contained  in  a  vessel  of  a  given  measure)  could 
be  converted   into  a  like  quantity  of  water,  it 
would  be  the  same  as  saying  that  something  can 
be  made  out  of  nothing.     From  these  principles, 
three  rules  or  practical  directions  seem  to  me 
deducible,  in  order  that  men  may  with  greater 
skill,  and,  in  consequence  of  skill,  with  greater 
success,  conduct  their  trade  with  nature.      The 
first  is  in  this  wise,  that  men  ought  often  to  con 


trol  nature  by  a  counter-reckoning,  in  giving  in 
her  account;  that  is,  that  when  they  see  some 
body,  which  had  previously  been  full  in  the  eye 
of  sense,  make  its  escape  and  vanish,  they  should 
not  at  once,  as  it  were,  authenticate  and  clear  off 
the  account  of  nature,  till  a  correct  voucher  has 
been  given  to  them,  whither  such  body  has  trans 
ferred  itself,  and  in  what  it  has  found  a  recipient. 
This,  as  matters  now  go,  is  most  carelessly  done, 
and  contemplation  in  general  stops  with  appear-, 
ances ;  thus  men  are  ignorant  of  the  recipient  of 
flame,  the  most  common  of  substances ;  for  it  is  a 
perfect  fallacy  to  suppose  that  it  is  converted  into 
the  substance  of  the  air.      The  second  is  thus ; 
that  while  men  regard  the  property  inherent  in 
matter  of  being  self-sustained,  and  not  dropping 
nto  annihilation  or  dissolution,  as  an  adamantine 
necessity   of  nature,   they    ought  to  permit  no 
nethod  to  escape  them  of  torturing  and  agitating 
matter,  if  they  would  detect  and  drag  to  light  its 
ultimate    workings    and    obstinately    preserved 
secrets.     Now,  this  may  seem  to  be,  wrhat  I  at 
once  admit  that  it  is,  an  admonition  which  it 
•equires  little  sagacity  to  give  : — yet  it  seems  to 
contain  in  it  something  of  real  use;  it  is  not  a 
counsel  that  has  nothing  in  it.      Let  us  now, 
however,  add  to  this  subject,  if  you  please,  a 
sprinkling  of  actual  observation.     Thus,  then,  the 
greatest  difficulty  man  encounters  in  operation  or 
experiment  is,  that  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  keep 
together,  act  upon,  and  master  the  refractory  pro 
perties  of  a  given  quantity  of  matter,  without  such 
substance   undergoing  diminution  or  augmenta 
tion  ;  but  a  separation  of  the  parts  taking  place, 
the  effort  of  experiment  is  rendered,  in  the  last 
resort,  abortive.    Now,  separation  interposes  thus 
in  two  ways;  either  so  that  a  part  of  the  matter 
flies  off,  as  in  extraction,  or,  at  least,  that  a  segre 
gation  of  parts  takes  place,  as  in  cream.     The 
intention,  therefore,  of  a  complete  a.?;d  thorough 
change  of  bodies  is  no  other  than  to  vex  matter 
by   every   well    digested    method   of    scrutiny; 
always,  however,  with  due  prevention  of  these 
two  kinds  of  separation,  during  the  period  of  such 
process.     For  then,  and  not  till  then,  is  matter 
truly  delivered  up  bound  into  our  hands,  when 
every  avenue  of  escape  has  been  closed  up.     The 
third    direction  is   this,  that  when   men  behold 
alterations  take  place  in  the  same  section  of  mat 
ter,  without  its  being  either  increased   or  dimi 
nished,  they  should  first  free  their  imagination  from 
the  deeply-rooted  error,  that  alteration  is  effected 
by  separation  alone;  and  should  then  begin  pain 
fully   and  carefully  to  discriminate   the   various 
forms  of  alteration,  when  they  ought  to  be  placed 
to  the  account  of  separation,  when  to  that  of  dis 
organization  only,  and  a  different  collocation  of 
the  same  parts,  without  other  separation;  when 
to  that  of  both  together.      For  I  do  not  believe, 
that  when   we  shuffle  hard,  throw  about,  and 
meliorate  in  our  hands  a  harsh  and  untimely  pear 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NATURE  Ot   THINGS. 


411 


by  which  it  acquires  sweetness,  or  when  amber 
or  a  diamond  reduced  to  an  extremely  fine  dust, 
are  divested  of  colour,  that  there  is  any  perceptible 
fraction  of  the  substance  of  either  lost,  but  only 
that  their  component  parts  are  arranged  differently 
as  to  place. 

It  remains  that  we  try  to  eradicate  from  the 
minds  of  men  an  error  of  which  the  influence  is 
such,  that  if  credit  continues  to  be  attached  to  it, 
several  of  the  investigations  we  have  mentioned 
must  be  given  up  in  despair  as  impracticable. 
For  it  is  the  common  persuasion,  that  the  ethers 
(or  spirits)  of  substances,  when  they  have  been 
brought  to  an  extreme  degree  of  exility  by  heat, 
evaporate  even  in  the  most  solid  vessels,  (such  as 
silver  or  glass  retorts,)  through  certain  impercep 
tible  pores  and  crevices.  This  is  not  true.  For 
neither  air,  nor  such  ethers,  not  even  flame  itself, 
volatilize  so  perfectly,  as  to  become  capable  of 
seeking  or  finding  emission  through  such  orifices. 
But  as  an  exceeding  small  aperture  does  not  per 
mit  the  escape  of  water,  so  neither  do  such  pores 
the  passage  of  air.  For,  as  air  is  a  fluid  rarer  by 
far  than  water,  so  such  pores  are  proportionally 
much  more  minute  than  visible  apertures.  Nor 
would  suffocation  in  a  covered  vessel  be  inevita 
ble,  if  such  exudations  either  existed,  or  were 
competent  to  produce  their  supposed  effect.  And 
the  instance  they  adduce  is  pitiful,  or  rather  a  fit 
subject  for  pity,  as  are  most  of  the  speculations 
of  the  common  philosophy,  when  they  are  brought 
down  to  details.  They  say,  that  if  ignited  paper 
be  put  in  a  cup,  and  the  mouth  of  the  cup  inverted 
on  a  vessel  of  water,  the  water  is  then  drawn  up 
wards  ;  their  reason  is,  that  after  the  flame,  and 
the  air  subtilized  by  the  flame,  occupying  as  they 
had  done  a  certain  portion  of  the  interior  space, 
had  passed  out  through  the  pores  of  the  vessel,  it 
remains  that  some  other  body  should  succeed  to 
their  place.  The  same,  they  say,  is  the  case  in 
cupping  glasses,  which  raise  the  flesh.  And  with 
respect  to  the  water  and  the  flesh  succeeding 
another  body  which  is  displaced,  their  notion  is  a 
just  one  enough,  but  of  the  cause  which  produces 
that  effect,  a  most  ignorant  one.  For  there  is  no 
emission,  creating  vacant  space,  but  only  the  con 
traction  of  that  body.  For  the  body  into  which 
the  flame  has  passed  now  occupies  much  less 
space  than  before  the  flame  had  been  extinguish 
ed.  It  is  thus  that  a  vacuum  is  formed,  desiderat 
ing  the  succession  of  something  else.  And  this 
is  perfectly  clear  in  the  instance  of  cupping 
glasses.  For  when  they  wish  them  to  act  more 
powerfully  on  the  flesh,  they  apply  to  them 
sponges  filled  with  cold  water,  that  the  cold  may 
condense  the  imprisoned  air,  and  make  it  gather 
itself  up  into  smaller  space. 

Thus  do  we  extricate  men  from  the  anxiety  and 


desirous  to  confine,  odours,  savours,  and  the  like, 
do  not  really  exhale  from  their  prisons,  but  are 
lost  within  them. 


Of   seeming   Quiescence,  of  Consistency,    and   of 
Fluidity. 

VI. 

That  certain  bodies  appear  quiescent  and  void 
of  motion,  is  a  just  impression  in  reference  to  their 
wholes  or  aggregates,  but  as  respects  their  parts, 
it  misleads  men's  opinion.  For  simple  and  abso 
lute  immobility,  either  in  the  parts  or  the  totality 
of  bodies,  there  is  none;  but  what  is  so  regarded, 
is  the  effect  of  the  obstacles,  restraints,  and 
balances  with  one  another,  subsisting  among 
motions.  For  instance,  when  in  the  vessels  per 
forated  at  the  bottom,  which  we  use  in  watering 
gardens,  the  water  does  not  find  vent  through  the 
holes,  if  the  mouth  of  the  vessel  be  closed,  it  is 
evident  that  this  is  occasioned  by  the  resilient 
motion,  not  the  quiescent  property  of  the  water. 
For  the  water  desires  to  fall,  precisely  as  much 
as  if  it  were  performing  the  act  of  descent;  but 
as  there  is  not  a  body  to  fill  up  the  vacuity  formed 
at  the  top  of  the  vessel,  the  water  at  the  bottom 
is  drawn  back,  and  with  considerable  force,  by 
the  water  at  the  top.  Thus,  in  wrestling,  if  a 
man  grasp  another  weaker  than  himself  in  such 
a  way  that  he  is  unable  to  move,  and  yet  con 
tinues  to  strain  his  utmost,  the  motion  of  renitency 
is  not  made  less  because  it  is  mastered  and  tied 
by  the  stronger  motion. 

Now,  the  observation  we  make  on  false  quies 
cence  is  useful  to  be  known  in  numberless  cases, 
and  affords  no  little  light  in  the  inquiry  into  the 
nature  of  solid  and  liquid  bodies,  or  of  consistency 
and  fluidity.  For  solids  seem  to  remain  at  rest 
in  their  positions,  but  liquids  subject  to  agitation 
and  interfusion  of  parts.  Thus  a  column,  or  any 
other  figured  body  of  water,  cannot  be  raised  as 
one  of  wood  or  stone.  It  is,  therefore,  hastily 
supposed  that  the  upper  parts  of  the  water  tend 
(in  their  natural  motion,  as  it  is  termed)  to  flow 
downwards,  but  the  corresponding  parts  of  the 
wood  not.  But  this  is  not  true;  since  in  the 
parts  of  the  wood  forming  its  top,  there  exists 
the  same  tendency  to  motion  downwards  as  in 
water;  and  it  would  be  brought  into  act,  were  it 
not  fettered  and  drawn  the  other  way  by  a 
superior  motion.  Now,  the  appetite  of  continuity 
or  horror  of  separation,  which  is  in  itself  no  less 
incident  to  water  than  to  wood,  is  in  the  wood 
stronger  than  the  motion  of  gravity,  in  water 
weaker.  For  that  liquids  also  partake  of  this 
motion,  is  manifest.  Thus  we  see  in  a  succession 
i  of  waterdrops,  how,  to  prevent  a  solution  of  con 
tinuity,  the  water  draws  itself  out  and  tapers  to 


the  dispiriting  impression  engendered  by  the  ease    a  thin  filament,  so  long  as  the  fluid  which  suc- 


with  which  such  finer  spirits  effect  their  libera 
tion;  6)  nee  ine  very  spirits  which  they  are  chiefly 


ceeds  supplies  the  means ;  but  should  water  bo 
wanting  to  maintain  the  continuity,  it  then  gather* 


412 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THINGS. 


itself  int:  globules,  the  diameter  of  which  is 
considerably  greater  than  the  filament  previously 
formed.  In  the  same  way  we  see  that  the  water 
with  difficulty  admits  of  being  broken  into  more 
minute  particles,  since  it  does  not,  without  having 
been  shaken,  exude  by  its  natural  gravity  through 
pertures  and  crevices,  if  they  be  somewhat 
minute.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  there  is  a  ten 
dency  to  continuity  in  fluids  also,  but  weak.  On 
the  contrary,  however,  it  is  strong  in  solids,  and 
predominates  over  the  natural  motion,  or  that  of 
gravity.  For  if  any  one  conceives  that  in  a  pillar 
of  wood  or  stone,  the  upper  parts  do  not  through 
out  affect  descent,  but  rather  to  maintain  them 
selves  in  entirely  the  same  position,  he  will 
easily  set  himself  right,  by  considering  that  a 
column  or  a  similar  structure,  if  the  altitude  is 
disproportioned  to  the  base,  or  exceeds  the  due 
relation  to  it,  cannot  stand,  but  is  precipitated  by 
its  own  gravity.  So  that  in  very  elevated  piles 
of  building  it  is  necessary  to  make  them  incline 
to  the  pyramidal  form,  and  narrow  to  an  apex. 
What  that  principle  in  nature  is,  however,  which 
determines  the  intensity  or  weakness  of  the  affec 
tion  of  continuity,  will  not  easily  occur  to  the 
inquirer.  It  might,  perhaps,  be  suggested  that 
the  parts  of  solids  are  more  concentrated  and 
compact,  those  of  liquids  more  lax,  or  that  in 
liquids  there  was  an  ether,  the  principle  of  fluidity, 
which  was  wanting  in  solids  and  the  like.  But 
neither  of  these  explanations  is  reconcileable  to 
truth ;  for  it  is  apparent  that  snow  and  wax, 
which  can  be  divided,  cast  into  form,  and  receive 
the  impression  of  other  bodies,  are  a  much  rarer 
substance  than  melted  quicksilver  or  lead  ;  as  is 
proved  by  a  comparison  of  their  weight.  But  if 
any  one  still  insists  that  it  is  possible  that  snow 
or  wax,  though  (as  a  whole)  less  gross  than 
quicksilver,  may,  nevertheless,  have  its  parts  dis 
posed  more  closely  and  compactly,  yet,  that  as  it 
is  a  porous  body,  containing  many  cavities  and 
much  air,  it  is,  therefore,  rendered  lighter  as  a 
whole:  as  is  the  case  of  pumicestone,  which, 
though  in  comparing  the  size  of  both,  it  be  per 
haps  lighter  than  wood,  nevertheless,  if  both  be 
ground  to  a  dust,  the  dust  of  the  pumicestone  will 
outweigh  that  of  the  wood,  because  the  porosity 
of  the  formei  no  longer  continues  :  these  are  well 
observed  and  well  objected  facts.  But  what  shall 
be  said  of  melted  snow  or  wax,  where  the  same 
interstices  are  now  filled  up :  or  what  of  gum 
mastic  and  the  like  substances,  which  have  no 
perceptible  cavities  of  the  kind,  and  are  yet  lighter 
than  several  liquids'?  As  to  the  allegation  of  an 
ether  by  the  virtue  and  impulse  of  which  things 
are  put  into  the  state  of  being  fluid,  that,  no 
doubt,  is  at  the  first  glance  probable,  and  falls  in 
kindly  with  the  common  notions :  but  in  the  ex 
perience  of  actual  nature,  it  is  much  more  hard  to 
admit,  and  inaccurate,  being  not  merely  unsup 


ported  by  sound  reason,  but  almost  repugnant  to 
it.  For  that  other  of  which  they  speak,  has  for 
its  proper  effect  (surprising  as  the  saying  may 
appear)  consistency,  not  fluidity.  This  is  also 
very  well  seen  in  the  instance  of  snow,  where, 
though  the  substance  be  a  concrete  of  air  and 
water,  and  the  water  and  air  be  separate  fluids, 
yet  the  union  of  the  two  produces  consistency. 
Should  any  one  object,  that  this  consistency  may 
be  occasioned  by  the  condensation  of  the  aqueous 
part  by  cold,  and  not  by  means  of  the  incorporated 
air,  he  will  correct  himself  by  observing  that 
froth  also,  which  is  a  body  similar  to  snow,  is  not 
in  any  way  condensed  by  cold.  Yet,  if  he  still 
press  the  objection,  by  saying  that  in  the  forma 
tion  of  foam  there  is  still  an  antecedent  condensa 
tion,  not  indeed  by  the  action  of  cold,  but  by 
agitation  and  concussion:  let  him  take  a  lesson 
from  the  boys,  who  with  a  slight  inspiration  of 
air  through  a  pipe  or  reed,  and  by  the  aid  of  some 
water  rendered  rather  more  viscid  by  mixing  a 
little  soap  with  it,  form  a  strange  turriform  con 
geries  of  bubbles. 

The  case,  in  fact,  stands  thus  :  bodies  at  the 
contact  of  a  friendly  or  homogeneous  body  relax 
and  fall  to  solution;  at  that  of  a  dissimilar  body 
they  contract  and  hold  themselves  erect  and  aloof. 
The  application,  therefore,  of  an  incongruous  body 
is  the  cause  of  consistency.  Thus  we  see  oil 
mixed  with  water,  as  takes  place  in  preparing 
unguents,  in  so  far  divest  itself  of  the  fluidity 
which  before  prevailed,  both  in  the  water  and  the 
oil.  On  the  contrary,  we  observe  paper  moistened 
with  water  become  flaccid  and  lose  its  consisten 
cy,  (which  was  considerable,  by  reason  of  the  air 
which  had  penetrated  its  pores,)  but  when  moist 
ened  with  oil,  the  cohesion  is  less  affected,  be 
cause  it  has  less  congruity  with  paper.  We  see 
the  same  thing  take  place  also  in  sugar  and  the 
like  substances,  which  soften  into  commixture 
with  water  and  wine ;  and  not  only  blend  intima 
tely  with  these  fluids,  but  even  attact  and  suck 
them  up. 

Of  the  Harmony  of  sentient  Bodies  with  insentient. 

VII. 

The  affections  of  bodies  endowed  with  sense 
and  destitute  of  it,  have  great  conformity  with  one 
another,  except  that  in  the  sentient  body,  there  is 
the  addition  of  spirit.  For  the  pupil  of  the  eye 
corresponds  with  a  mirror  and  with  water,  arid  by 
a  similar  property  admits  and  refracts  the  images 
of  light  and  of  visible  objects.  The  organ,  too, 
of  hearing  is  analogous  to  the  obstructed  part  or 
a  cave-like  passage,  from  which  part  the  voice  and 
all  sound  best  reverberates.  The  attractions,  also, 
of  inanimate  objects,  and  again  their  affections  of 
horror  and  flight,  (those  I  mean  which  corne  of 
their  own  spontaneous  motion,)  are  correlative  to 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THINGS. 


413 


smell  and  to  odours  grateful  and  offensive  in  the 
case  of  animals.  But  the  capacity  of  touch  and 
taste,  like  a  prophet  and  interpreter,  delivers  to 
the  mind  all  the  modes  either  of  forcible  appeal, 
or  of  benign  and  insinuating  flattery  to  the  sense, 
which  are  incident  to  inanimate  substances,  and 
all  the  forms  they  assume  under  the  influence  of 
these  affections.  For  compressions,  expansions, 
corrosions,  separations,  and  the  like,  are,  in  things 
without  life,  invisible  in  their  progress,  and  are 
not  perceived  till  the  effect  is  manifest.  But  all 
violence  to  the  organization  of  animals  is  accom 
panied  with  a  sense  of  pain,  according  to  their 
different  kinds  and  peculiar  natures,  owing  to  that 
sentient  essence  which  pervades  their  frames. 
And  from  this  principle  may  be  inferred  the  know 
ledge  whether  haply  any  animal  possesses  some 
additional  sense,  besides  those  commonly  ob 
served,  and  what  senses  and  how  many  can  pos 
sibly  exist  in  the  whole  circle  of  animated  nature. 
For  from  the  affections  of  matter  duly  analyzed, 
will  follow  the  number  of  the  senses,  if  there 
be  only  the  sufficing  organs  for  the  operation 
of  such  senses,  and  the  presence  of  spirit  to 
inform  them. 

Of  violent  Motion,  that  it  is  the  rapid  Motion  and 
Discursation  of  the  Particles  of  a  Body,  in  conse 
quence  of  Pressure,  but  perfectly  invisible. 

VIII. 

Violent  motion,  (as  it  is  termed,)  by  which  mis 
siles,  as  stones,  arrows,  cannon  balls,  and  the  like, 
move  through  the  air,  is  of  all  descriptions  of  mo- 
tion  nearly  the  most  familiar.  And  we  may  note 
here,  the  singular  and  supine  indifference  which 
men  have  discovered  in  observing  and  investi 
gating  this  kind  of  motion.  Nor  is  a  faulty  way 
of  tracing  the  nature  and  power  of  it  attended  with 
only  trivial  loss;  since  it  is  of  unlimited  use,  and 
as  it  were  the  life  and  informing  principle  of  pro 
jectiles,  engines,  and  all  the  applications  of  me 
chanical  pow7er.  Yet  many  conceive  that  they 
have  completely  acquitted  themselves  of  their  j 
part  in  the  investigation,  if  they  but  pronounce 
such  motion  to  be  violent,  and  contradistinguish 
it  from  natural.  And  no  doubt  it  is  the  system 
of  Aristotle  and  his  school,  to  instruct  men  what 
to  say,  not  what  to  think ;  to  teach  a  man  by  what 
devices  of  affirming  or  denying,  he  may  get  clear 
of  a  disputant  in  argument,  not  how,  by  force  of 
thought,  he  may  get  clear  of  a  difficulty  in  the 
conviction  of  his  own  mind.  Others,  rather  more 
attentive,  laying  hold  of  the  position  that  two 
bodies  cannot  exist  in  one  place,  say  that  it  fol 
lows  as  a  consequence  that  the  stronger  body 
propel,  and  the  weaker  be  dislodged:  that  this 
dislodging  or  flight,  if  a  less  force  is  used,  con 
tinues  no  longer  than  the  duration  of  the  origina1 
impulse,  as  in  protrusion;  but  if  a  greater,  the 


impulsion  continues  for  a  time,  even  after  the 
removal  of  the  impelling  body,  till  it  gradually 
slackens,  as  in  throwing.  And  here,  again,  accord 
ing  to  another  inveterate  habit  of  the  same  school, 
they  catch  only  at  the  commencement  of  the  thing, 
indifferent  to  its  progression  and  termination,  and 
drag  in  all  that  follows  under  the  head  of  the  be 
ginning  ;  whence,  with  an  overweening  haste  and 
impatience,  they  break  off  their  train  of  thought 
in  the  midst.  For  in  what  they  say  of  bodies 
giving  way  at  the  impelling  force,  there  is  some 
thing  ;  but  why  the  motion  should  continue  after 
the  urging  body  is  withdrawn,  and  consequently 
the  necessary  alternative  of  the  weaker  and 
stronger  body  mingling  is  at  an  end,  of  this  they 
say  nothing,  not  sufficiently  apprehending  the 
scope  of  their  own  observations. 

Others,  however,  more  attentive  and  steady  in 
investigating,  having  marked  the  force  of  the  air 
in  winds  and  the  like  instances,  which  is  capable 
of  throwing  down  trees  and  towers,  have  supposed 
that  the  force  which  urges  and  accompanies  pro 
jectiles,  after  the  first  impulsion,  ought  to  be  re 
ferred   to  the   air  accumulating  and  rushing  in 
behind  the  body  in   motion,  by  the  impulse  of 
which  that  body  is  borne  along,  like  a  ship  in  the 
expanse  of  water.     And  such  persons,  at  least,  do 
not  quit  their  subject,  but  carry  their  thought  to 
its   conclusion ;   yet  they,   nevertheless,  do   not 
attain  to  the  truth.     The  cause  in  reality  is  this. 
The  principal  motion  seems  to  be  in  the  parts  of 
the  volant  body  itself,  which  parts  being  imper 
ceptible  to  vision,  on  account  of  their  extreme 
tenuity,  escape  the  notice  of  men,  not  sufficiently 
attentive  to  their  subject,  and  passing  it  over  with 
a  cursory  glance.     But  to  one  who  gives  it  a 
sounder  examination,  it  is  clearly  evident,  tha^ 
the  harder  bodies  are,  they  are  the  more  impatient 
of  pressure,  the  more  acutely  sensitive  to  it,  as  it 
were;  so  much  so,  that  if  disturbed  ever  so  little 
from  their  natural  position,  they  endeavour  with 
great  velocity   of  movement  to  free  themselves 
from  its  effect,  and  resume  their  original  state. 
To  effect  which,  the  several  parts,  beginning  with 
the  part  struck,  successively  propel  one  another, 
in  the  same  way  as  an  external  force,  and  keep 
up  that  motion  vigorously  ;  hence  results  a  con 
tinuous  and,  though  invisible,  intense  vibration  of 
the  parts.     And  this  we  see  exemplified  in  glass, 
sugar,  and  similar  brittle  substances,  which,  it' 
they  be  divided  by  a  blade  or  edged  instrument, 
are,  as  it  were,  in  a  moment  broken  down  in  other 
parts  distant  from  the  line  described  by  the  blade. 
Which  evidently  proves  that  the  motion  of  pres 
sure  travels  to  the  parts  of  these  substances  suc 
cessively.     This  motion  pervading  all  the  parts 
of  the  body,  and  trying,  as  it  were,  their  compact 
ness,   causes   the  breaking  down   of  that   part, 
where,  from  the  structure,  the  cohesion  is  weak. 
Yet  does  not  this  motion,  though  it  agitates  and 
2  M  2 


414 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THINGS. 


permeates  the  whole,  come  into  view,  till  a  visible 
break  or  divulsion  of  continuity  takes  place. 
Again,  we  observe,  if  we  happen  to  bend  and 
compress  between  the  thumb  and  forefinger  the 
two  ends  of  a  wire,  or  bit  of  cane,  or  the  harder 
part  of  a  pen,  (or  similar  bodies  which  unite 
flexibility  with  a  certain  degree  of  elasticity,)  they 
anon  spring  from  the  hand.  The  cause  of  which 
motion  is  evidently  discernible  not  to  be  in  the 
extremities  compressed  by  the  fingers,  but  in  the 
middle  part,  which  is  the  seat  of  forcible  pressure, 
to  relieve  itself  from  which,  the  motion  cornes  into 
play.  And  in  this  instance  it  is  clearly  shown, 
that  the  alleged  cause  of  motion,  the  impulsion 
of  the  air,  is  inadmissible.  For  here  there  is  no 
concussion  to  let  in  a  rush  of  air.  This  is  also 
proved  by  a  slight  experiment,  when  we  press 
the  fresh  and  smooth  ball  of  a  plum,  drawing  the 
fingers  gradually  together,  and  in  this  manner  let 
it  go.  For  in  that  instance  also  compression  is 
substituted  for  percussion.  But  the  most  conspi 
cuous  effect  of  this  interior  motion  is  in  the  revo 
lutions  and  gyrations  of  missiles  while  Hying. 
The  missiles,  indeed,  proceed  onwards,  but  they 
make  their  progression  in  spiral  lines,  that,  is,  by 
straight-lined  and  rotatory  motion  together,  and 
indeed  this  curvilinear  motion  is  so  fleet,  and  at 
the  same  time  so  easy,  and  somehow  so  familiar 
to  things,  as  to  excite  a  doubt  in  my  rnind  whe 
ther  it  does  not  depend  on  some  higher  principle. 
Yet  I  think  that  the  cause  of  this  fact  is  no  other 
than  the  same  we  are  now  handling.  For  the 
Concussion  of  the  body  occasions  an  excessive 
impetus  in  all  its  parts  and  particles,  to  effect  in 
some  way  or  other  their  extrication  and  freedom. 
The  body,  therefore,  not  only  acts  and  flies  forth 
in  a  straight  line,  but  strives  to  move  from  every 
point  in  it  at  once,  and,  therefore,  whirls  round  ; 
for  in  both  ways  it  somewhat  relieves  itself  of  its 
irnpuise.  Now  this,  which  in  the  harder  solids 
is  a  somewhat  recondite  and  latent  property,  is  in 
the  softer  ones  evident,  and,  so  to  speak,  palpable. 
For  as  wax,  and  lead,  and  similar  soft  bodies, 
when  struck  with  a  mallet,  give  way  not  only  in 
the  line  of  percussion,  but  laterally  every  way; 
so,  in  like  manner,  hard  or  resisting  bodies  move 
in  a  straight  line  and  periphery  at  once.  For  the 
retrocession  of  soft  bodies  in  their  substance,  and 
of  hard  ones  in  their  place,  is  the  same  in  its  prin 
ciple,  as  is  evidently  seen  in  the  structure  of  the 
soft  body,  and  in  the  affection  of  the  hard  one, 
exhibited  in  its  flight  and  volant  path.  Meantime 
let  none  think  that  besides  this  motion,  (which  is 
the  cardinal  point,)  I  do  not  ascribe  a  certain  de 
gree  of  effect  to  the  conveyance  of  the  air,  which 
is  capable  of  assisting,  obstructing,  modifying, 
and  regulating  the  principal  motion ;  for  its  power 
is  far  from  being  inconsiderable.  And  this  doc 
trine  of  violent  or  mechanical  motion  (which  has 
been  hitherto  unknown)  is,  as  it  were,  the  foun 
tain-head  of  practical  mechanics. 


Of  the  cause  of  Motion  in  Fire-arms,  which  has  been 
hitherto  investigated  only  in  part,  and  that  part 
comparatively  unimportant. 

IX. 

The  theory  of  fire-arms — of  a  motion  so  power 
ful  and  so  remarkable,  is  imperfect,  arid,  in  the 
more  important  part,  defective.  For  it  is  said  in 
explanation  that  the  gunpowder,  after  having  been 
converted  into  flame  and  volatilized,  expands  and 
occupies  more  space;  whence  it  follows,  that  as 
two  bodies  cannot  exist  in  the  same  space,  other 
wise  a  jumbling  of  their  dimensions  would  ensue, 
or  the  elementary  form  be  destroyed,  or  a  preter 
natural  arrangement  of  the  internal  parts  of  the 
body  be  the  effect,  (for  this  is  what  they  say,)  that 
the  impeding  body  is  ejected  or  broken.  And 
what  they  say  contains  something.  For  this  ten 
dency  is  both  an  affection  of  matter,  and  an  ingre 
dient  in  the  motion  itself.  Yet  they  err  in  this, 
that  in  their  over  hasty  way  of  determining,  they 
jump  at  once  to  the  necessary  consequence  of  the 
dilatation  of  a  body,  and  do  not  accurately  consider 
what  comes  first  in  the  order  of  nature.  For  that 
the  substance  of  the  gunpowder, after  havingbeen 
converted  into  flame,  must  occupy  a  larger  space, 
is  doubtless  a  thing  of  necessity  ;  but  that  the  sub 
stance  of  the  gunpowder  should  be  inflamed  at 
all,  and  that  so  instantaneously,  is  not  determined 
by  a  like  necessity,  but  depends  on  an  antagonism, 
and  comparative  force  of  motions.  For  there  is 
not  a  doubt,  that  the  compact  and  heavy  body 
which  is  expelled  or  dislodged  by  this  motion, 
offers  considerable  resistance  before  it  gives  way, 
and,  if  it  happen  to  be  the  stronger,  is  victorious ; 
that  is  to  say,  the  flame,  in  that  case,  does  not  cast, 
out  the  ball,  but  the  ball  stifles  the  flame.  If, 
therefore,  instead  of  gunpowder,  you  take  sul 
phur,  asphultum,  or  the  like,  bodies  which  are  also 
quickly  inflammable,  and  (as  the  closeness  of 
particles  in  bodies  hinders  ignition)  reduce  them 
to  a  grain  like  gunpowder,  mixing  up  with  it  a 
small  quantity  of  the  ashes  of  the  juniper,  or  some 
other  very  combustible  wood  ;  yet,  should  the 
nitre  be  wanting,  that  rapid  and  powerful  motion 
does  not  follow  :  the  motion  to  perfect  inflamma 
tion  is  impeded  and  fettered  by  the  resisting  body, 
so  that  it  cannot  fully  expand  and  take  effect. 
For,  besides  the  motion  of  inflammation,  which 
chiefly  arises  from  the  sulphureous  part  of  the 
gunpowder,  there  is  yet  another  powerful  and  vio 
lent  motion  in  the  case.  This  is  caused  by  the 
crude  watery  ether,  which  is  extricated  from  the 
nitre  in  part,  but  chiefly  from  the  charcoal,  and 
which  not  only  itself  dilates,  as  exhaled  essences 
are  wont  to  do,  on  the  application  of  heat,  but  at 
the  same  time  (which  is  the  principal  circum 
stance)  by  a  motion  of  extreme  rapidity,  flies  off 
and  breaks  forth  from  the  heat  and  flame,  thus 
distending  and  opening  passages  for  the  inflam 
mation  to  follow.  Of  this  motion  we  see  the 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THINGS. 


415 


simplest  form  in  the  crackling-  of  the  dry  leaves  of 
laurel  or  ivy,  when  we  cast  them  into  the  fire,  and 
still  more  in  salt,  which  approximates  more  nearly 
to  the  substance  under  examination.  We  also 
often  observe  something  like  this  in  the  tallow  of 
candles  when  melted,  and  in  the  windy  rustle  ol 
green  wood  set  on  fire.  But  it  is  chiefly  discern 
ible  in  quicksilver,  which  is  an  extremely  crude 
substance,  not  unlike  the  water  of  a  chalybeate 
spring-;  and  the  force  of  it,  if  tried  by  the  appli 
cation  of  fire,  and  prevented  from  egress,  not  great 
ly  inferior  to  that  of  gunpowder  itself.  Men  ought, 
therefore,  to  be  admonished  and  conjured  from 
this  example,  not  in  their  investigation  of  causes 
to  catch  at  only  one  element,  and  so  too  lightly 
to  pronounce  upon  them  ;  but  to  look  around  them 
with  caution,  and  rivet  their  contemplation  more 
intensely  and  profoundly. 

Of  the  dissimilarity  of  things  celestial  and  subluna 
ry,  in  regard  to  eternity  and  mutability,  that  it 
has  not  been  proved  to  be  true. 

X. 

The  received  opinion  that  the  universe  is  regu 
larly  divided  and  discriminated  by  spheres,  as  it 
were,  and  that  there  is  one  system  of  heavenly 
and  another  of  sublunary  being,  appears  to  have 
been  adopted,  not  without  rational  grounds,  pro 
vided  the  opinion  is  applied  with  proper  modifica 
tions.  For  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  regions 
situated  beneath  the  lunar  orb,  and  above  it,  differ 
in  many  and  important  respects.  Yet  is  not  that 
belief  more  certain  than  this  other,  that  the  bodies 
in  both  spheres  have  tendencies,  appetencies,  and 
motions  which  are  common  to  both.  We  ought 
then  to  imitate  the  unity  of  nature,  to  discriminate 
those  spheres  rather  than  rend  them  asunder,  and 
not  break  down  the  continuity  of  our  contempla 
tion.  But  with  respect  to  another  received  opi 
nion,  that  the  heavenly  bodies  undergone  change, 
but  that  the  terrestrial  or  elementary  (as  they  are 
called)  are  subject  to  change;  and  that  the  mat 
ter  of  the  last  resembles  a  courtezan  ever  seeking 
the  embracement  of  new  bodies,  but  of  the  other 
a  matron  linked  to  one  in  stable  and  inviolable 
union;  it  seems  but  a  popular  notion,  weak,  and 
originating  in  appearances  and  superstition.  This 
notion  appears  to  be  tottering,  and  without  foun 
dation,  when  viewed  in  either  way.  For  neither 
does  their  imagined  eternity  consist  with  heaven, 
nor  their  mutability  with  earth.  For,  with  respect 
to  heaven,  we  cannot  rest  upon  it  as  a  reason  for 
changes  not  happening  there,  that  they  do  not 
emerge  to  our  view,  the  view  of  man  being  pre 
vented  no  less  by  distance  of  place  than  by  tenu 
ity  of  bodies.  For  various  changes  are  found  to 
take  place  in  the  air,  as  is  evident  in  heat,  cold, 
smells,  sounds,  which  do  not  fall  within  the  line 
of  sight.  Nor,  again,  I  suppose,  would  the  eye, 
if  placed  in  the  orb  of  the  moon,  descry  across 


such  a  prodigious  interval,  what  operations,  move 
ments,  and  changes  presented  themselves  on  the 
face  of  the  globe,  in  engines,  plants,  animals,  and 
so  on,  which  on  account  of  their  distance  would 
not  equal  the  bulk  of  the  minutest  straw.     Now, 
in  bodies  of  such  immense  bulk  and  magnitude, 
that  by  the  vastness  of  their  dimensions  they  can 
overcome  the  greatness  of  distance,  and  come  into 
visibility  ;  it  is  evident  from  certain  comets,  that 
changes  take  place  as  they  move  in  the  expanse 
of  the  heavens.     I  allude  to  those  comets,  which 
have  retained  a  certain  unvaried  relation  of  posi 
tion  to  the  fixed  stars,  such  as  that  which  in  our 
own  day  appeared  in  Cassiopea.     But  as  respects 
the  earth,  after  having  penetrated  into  the  interior 
recesses  of  it,  leaving  that  crust  and  mixture  of 
substances  which  composes  its  surface  and  conti 
guous  parts,  there  seems  to   exist  there  also  an 
eternal  immobility,  analogous  to  that  supposed  to 
be  found  in  heaven.     For  it  is  beyond  a  doubt, 
that  if  the  earth  underwent  changes  at  an  extreme 
depth   beneath  its  surface,  the  influence  of  such 
changes,  even  in  the  region  we  tread,  would  pro 
duce  greater  calamities  than  any  we  behold.     Most 
earthquakes,  certainly,  and  volcanic  eruptions,  do 
not  rise  from  a  great  but  a  very  moderate  depth, 
since  they  affect  such  an  inconsiderable   part  of 
the  surface.     For  in  proportion  as  such  visitations 
agitate  a  wider  area  of  the  earth's  surface,  in  the 
same  proportion  we  are  to  suppose  that  their  bases 
and  primitive  seats  enter  deeper  into  the  bowels 
of  the  earth.     These  earthquakes,  therefore,  which 
are  greater,  (in  the  extent  of  surface  agitated  I 
mean,  not  in  violence  of  tremefaction,)  and  which 
but  rarely  happen,  may  be  assimilated  to  comets 
of  the  description  we  have  mentioned,  which  are 
also  unusual.     So  that  the  proposition  with  which 
we  set  out  remains  unshaken,  namely,  that  be 
tween  heaven  and  earth  there  is  no  great  differ 
ence  as  respects  stability  and  change.     But  if  any 
one  is  influenced  to  a  different  opinion  by  the  regu 
larity  arid  seeming  exactness  of  the  motion  of  the 
leavenly  bodies,  we  have  before  us  the  ocean,  the 
solitary  handmaid  as  it  were  of  eternity,  which  ex- 
ibits  no  less  unchangeable  uniformity  than  they. 
Lastly,  if  any  one  shall  still  insist,  that  neverthe- 
ess  it  cannot  be  denied,  but  that  on  the  surface 
)f  the  globe,  and  the  part  contiguous  to  it,  changes 
nnumerable  take  place,  but  that  in  heaven  it  is 
lot  so,  we  would  have  him  thus  answered;  that 
ve  do  not  carry  the  parallel  through  every  part ;  and 
ret  if  we  take  the  upper  and  middle  regions  of  air 
'as  they  are  termed)  for  a  surface  and  exterior  in- 
egument  of  heaven,  just  as  among  us  we  regard 
hat  space  over  which   are   distributed    animals, 
>lants,  minerals,  as  a  surface  or  outer  integument 
>f  earth,  we  behold  in  both  manifold  reproductions 
and  vicissitudes,  in   full   operation.     It  would, 
therefore,  seem  that  all  the  disorder,  contention, 
and  commotion  of  the  universe,  has  its  seat  on  the 
frontiers  of  heaven  and  earth  alone.     As  in  civil 


416 


THE  THEORY  OF  THE  FIRMAMENT. 


society,  it  often  happens  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
things,  that  the  borders  of  two  adjacent  kingdoms 
are  wasted  with  a  perpetual  succession  of  inroads 
and  affrays,  while  the  interior  provinces  of  either 
kingdom  enjoy  continued  and  profound  tranquillity. 
And  none  who  bestows  a  proper  attention  on 
the  subject  will  make  an  objection  of  religion. 
For  it  was  only  a  heathen  flourish  to  ascribe  to  a 
material  heaven  the  quality  of  being  impregnable 
to  decay.  The  sacred  Scriptures  ascribe  eternity 
and  destructibility  equally  to  heaven  and  earth, 
though  they  assign  to  them  a  different  glory  and 
an  unequal  reverence.  For  if  it  be  recorded,  that 
"the  sun  and  moon  bear  faithful  and  eternal  wit 


ness  in  heaven,"  it  is  also  said  that  "  generations 
pass  away,  but  the  earth  abideth  for  ever."  And 
that  both  are  transitory  is  a  doctrine  contained  in 
the  same  oracle  of  God,  namely,  that  "  heaven 
and  earth  shall  pass  away,  but  the  word  of  the 
Lord  will  not  pass  away." 

These  things  we  have  noted,  not  from  any 
ambition  of  novelty  in  opinion,  but  because,  not 
in  ignorant  conjecture,  but  instructed  by  examples, 
we  foresee  that  these  fantastical  divorces,  and 
distinctions  of  objects  and  of  regions,  beyond 
what  truth  admits,  will  prove  a  serious  impedi 
ment  to  true  philosophy  and  the  contemplation  of 
nature.  W.  G.  G. 


THE 


THEORY    OF    THE    FIRMAMENT. 


BUT  as  so  many  foiling  inconveniences  are 
found  to  spring  up  on  all  sides,  it  should  be 
deemed  satisfactory  if  any  thing  can  be  avouched 
less  revolting. 

Let  us,  therefore,  construct  a  scheme  of  the 
universe,  according  to  that  measure  of  history 
hitherto  known  to  us,  reserving  for  our  future 
judgment  all  new  lights,  after  history,  and  through 
history,  our  philosophy,  by  induction,  may  have 
reached  a  maturer  age.  But  we  will,  in  the  out 
set,  premise  some  points  that  have  reference  to 
the  matter  composing  the  heavenly  bodies,  whence 
their  motion  and  formation  may  be  better  under 
stood  ;  afterwards  setting  forth  our  thoughts  and 
ideas  of  that  motion  itself,  the  chief  subject  under 
discussion. 

Nature,  then,  in  the  separating  of  matter,  seems 
to  have  drawn  an  impassable  bar  between  the 
rare  and  dense,  and  to  have  assigned  the  globe  of 
the  earth  to  the  order  of  the  dense;  but  every 
thing,  from  the  very  surface  of  the  earth,  and  its 
waters,  to  the  utmost  extremity  of  the  firmament, 
to  that  of  the  rare  or  volatile,  as  it  were,  to  twin 
classes  of  first  principles,  not  indeed  of  equal  but 
of  suitable  portions.  Nor  indeed  does  either  the 
water  clinging  to  the  clouds,  or  the  wind  pent  up 
in  the  earth,  disarrange  this  natural  and  appro 
priate  position  of  things  :  but  this  difference,  be 
tween  rare  or  volatile,  and  dense  or  tangible,  is 
entirely  primordial  or  essential,  and  is  what  the 
system  of  the  universe  chiefly  has  recourse  to.  It 
proceeds  from  a  state  of  things  the  most  simple 
possible — this  is  from  the  abundance  and  scarce 
ness  of  matter,  in  proportion  to  its  extension. 
What  belong  to  the  order  of  subtile  or  volatile,  as 
found  here  among  us,  (we  are  speaking  of  those 


bodies  that  are  simple  and  perfect,  not  of  such  as 
are  compounded  and  imperfectly  mixed,)  are 
clearly  those  two  bodies,  air  and  flame.  But 
these  are  to  be  propounded  as  bodies  utterly 
heterogeneous,  not,  as  is  commonly  supposed, 
that  flame  is  nothing  else  than  air  set  on  fire.  To 
these  correspond,  in  the  higher  regions,  the 
ethereal  and  sidereal  nature,  as,  in  the  inferior, 
water  and  oil,  and  in  the  still  deeper  parts,  mer 
cury  and  sulphur,  and  generally  crude  and  fat 
bodies,  or,  in  other  words,  bodies  that  have  a 
repugnance  to,  and  such  as  are  susceptible  of, 
flame;  (for  salts  are  of  a  compounded  nature, 
consisting  of  crude  and  at  the  same  time  also  of 
inflammable  parts.)  It  is  now  to  be  seen  by  what 
compact  these  two  great  families  of  things,  air 
and  flame,  shall  have  occupied  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  the  universe,  and  what  are  those  parts 
they  hold  in  the  system.  In  air  nearest  to  the 
earth,  flame  lives  but  a  momentary  life,  and 
utterly  perishes.  But  after  the  air  has  begun  to 
be  more  depurate  from  the  effluviee  of  the  earth 
and  well  rarefied,  the  nature  of  flame  through 
various*  adventures  explores  its  way,  and  tries  to 
take  its  station  in  the  air,  and  after  a  time  acquires 
some  duration,  not  from  succession,  as  with  us, 
but  in  identity;-]-  which  takes  place  for  a  time  in 
some  of  the  feebler  comets,  which  are  in  a  manner 
of  an  intermediate  nature  between  a  successive 
and  a  fixed  flame ;  the  flamy  nature,  however,  is 
not  fixed  or  established,  before  its  arrival  at  the 
body  of  the  moon.  There  the  flame  lays  down 

*  Per  varies  casus,  per  tot  discrimina  rerum,  Virg.  JEn.  iii. 
208.  '  Per  varies  casus  tentat  et  experitur,'  may  be  trans 
lated, 'after  various  adventurous  efforts  tries,'  or, '  adven 
turous  through  many  casualties  tries.' 

t  Identitus  :  quoevis  actio  repetita. 


THE  THEORY  OF  THE  FIRMAMENT. 


417 


its  extinguishable  part,  and  protects  itself  on  all 
sides,  but  yet  it  is  a  flame,  weak  without  vigour, 
and  having  little  of  radiation  of  that  kind  ;  that  is, 
neither  vivid  from  its  own  nature,  nor  much 
excited  by  a  contrary  one ;  neither  is  it  sincere, 
but,  from  its  composition  with  an  ethereal  sub 
stance,  such  as  is  there  met  with,  it  is  stained  and 
mixed  up.  And  in  the  region  of  Mercury  flame 
has  not  very  plentifully  established  itself,  since, 
by  the  accumulation  of  its  whole  amount,  it  is 
able  to  form  only  a  small  planet,  and  that  withal 
labouring  and  struggling,  like  an  ignis  fatuus, 
with  a  great  and  highly  disturbed  diversity  of 
fluctuating  motions,  and  not  bearing  to  be  sepa 
rated  but  for  a  small  distance  from  the  guardian 
protection  of  the  sun.  Moreover,  after  we  arrive 
at  the  region  of  Venus,  the  flamy  nature  begins  to 
gain  strength  and  to  wax  brighter,  and  to  be  col 
lected  into  a  globe  of  a  tolerable  size ;  neverthe 
less,  she  also  is  the  handmaid  of  the  sun,  and 
shudders  with  an  abhorrence  of  any  greater 
recession  from  him.  But  in  the  region  of  the  sun, 
flame  is  set,  as  it  were,  on  a  throne,  the  mean 
being  among  the  flames  of  the  planets,  for  there  it 
is  stronger  and  more  glittering  than  the  flames  of 
the  fixed  stars,  on  account  of  the  greater  restrain 
ing*  influence  shed  all  around,  and  the  closest 
possible  union.  But  flame  in  the  region  of  Mars 
is  observed  to  be  likewise  powerful,  denoting  by 
its  splendour  the  sun's  vicinity,  yet  existing  of  its 
own  proper  virtue,  and  admitting  of  a  separation 
from  the  sun  to  the  extent  of  the  whole  diameter 
of  the  firmament.  In  the  region  of  Jupiter,  how 
ever,  flame,  laying  aside,  in  a  gradual  manner, 
this  emulation,  appears  more  serene  and  clear, 
not  so  much  from  its  proper  nature,  (as  the  planet 
Venus,  she  being  more  sparkling,)  but  from  being 
less  moved  and  excited  by  the  nature  spread 
around  him  ;j~  in  which  region  it  is  probable  that 
takes  place,  which  Galileo  devised,  to  wit,  that 
the  firmament  there  begins  to  be  studded  with 
stars,  although  from  their  minuteness  invisible. 
But,  again,  in  the  region  of  Saturn  the  nature  of 
flame  seems  to  become  somewhat  languid  and 
faint,  as  being  both  farther  removed  from  an  alli 
ance  with  the  sun,  and  exhausted  by  the  neigh 
bouring  constellated  firmament.  Lastly,  a  flamy 
and  sidereal  nature  having  overpowered  the 
ethereal  nature,  gives  a  constellated  firmament 
composed  of  an  ethereal  and  sidereal  nature,  as 
the  globe  of  the  earth  is  of  continent  and  waters 
scattered  up  and  down  on  this  side  and  that  side, 
the  ethereal  substance  being  however  overruled, 

*  Antiperistasin  :  Trspts-cKnj  signifies,  generally,  'circum 
stance  :'  but,  in  Athen.  1.  5,  it  also  denotes  '  circuitus  :'  at 
61  rfig  mpis-dffsus  $vpai  TOV  dpiOpdv  EiKotn  ovaai,  ports, 
quoe  in  circuitu  erant,  viginti,  <fcc.;  therefore,  the  illustrious 
author  may  mean  by  '  antiperistasis,'  the  attractive  influ 
ence  of  the  sun  opposed  to,  and  which  detains  [cohibet]  the 
planets  in  their  orbits. 

t  Or,  "  from  the  nature  spread  around  him  being  less,"  &c., 
according  as  irritata  and  exasperata  are  taken  in  the  nomina 
tive  or  ablative  case. 

VOL.  I.— 53 


subdued,  and  assimilated,  so  as  to  thoroughly 
endure  and  become  subservient  to  the  sidereal. 
Wherefore,  from  the  earth  to  the  summit  of  the 
firmament  are  found  three  genera  of  regions,  and, 
as  it  were,  three  stages,  as  relate  to  the  region  in 
which  flame  is  extinguished,  the  region  in  which 
flame  disperses  itself;  moreover,  to  quibble  about 
contiguity  and  continuity  in  soft  and  flowing 
bodies,  would  be  an  utter  vulgarism.  Neverthe 
less,  that  point  should  be  understood,  namely, 
that  nature  is  accustomed  to  advance  to  spaces  by 
gradual  steps,  then,  of  a  sudden,  by  leaps,  and  to 
a-lternate  this  sort  of  process,  otherwise  no  fabric 
could  be  formed  did  she  always  proceed  by  insen 
sible  degrees;  for  what  a  jump  as  respects  the 
expansion  of  matter  is  there  from  water  to  air, 
even  ever  so  dense  or  clouded,  and  yet  these 
bodies,  so  different  in  their  nature,  are  joined 
together  in  position  and  superficies  without  any 
medium  or  interposing  distance  :  nor  is  it  a  less 
leap  as  to  a  substantial  nature,  from  the  region  of 
the  air  to  the  region  of  the  moon ;  in  like  manner, 
a  prodigious  one  from  the  firmament.  Wherefore, 
if  any  one  shall  have  taken  for  continuous  and 
contiguous,  not  from  the  manner  of  their  annexa 
tion,  but  from  the  diversity  of  the  bodies  con 
nected,  those  three  regions  we  have  spoken  of, 
they  can  only  be  held  for  contiguous  in  their 
limits. 

But  now  it  is  time  to  notice,  in  a  clear  and  ex 
plicit  manner,  the  amount  and  nature  of  what  this 
our  theory,  relating  to  the  substance-matters  of  a 
system,  may  establish,  as  also  of  what  it  may 
give  the  negative  to,  in  order  that  it  may  be  main 
tained  or  overthrown.  It  denies  that  vulgar 
opinion,  that  flame  is  air  ignited,  by  affirming  that 
those  two  bodies,  air  and  flame,  are  clearly  hete 
rogeneous,  like  water  and  oil,  sulphur  and  mer 
cury.  It  negatives  that  vacuum  coacervatum  held 
by  Gilbert,  to  obtain  among  the  scattered  spheres, 
but  affirms  that  the  spaces  are  filled  with  aerial 
or  a  flamy  nature.  It  denies  that  the  moon  is  an 
aqueous,  or  a  dense,  or  a  solid  body,  but  affirms 
that  it  is  of  a  flamy  nature,  though  it  be  gentle 
withal,  and  weak,  being  indeed  the  first  rudiment 
and  the  last  sediment  of  celestial  flame ;  since 
flame,  (according  to  its  density,)  no  less  than  air 
and  liquids,  admits  of  innumerable  degrees.  It 
establishes  that  flame,  justly  and  freely  posited, 
becomes  fixed  and  subsists,  no  less  than  air  and 
water;  nor  is  it  a  momentary  thing,  and  only 
successive  in  its  bulk,  by  renewal  and  feeding,  as 
is  the  case  here  with  us.  It  maintains  that  flame 
has  a  natural  tendency  to  go  and  collect  itself 
into  globes,  after  the  manner  of  an  earthy  nature, 
but  not  at  all  like  air  and  water,  which  are  ga 
thered  together  in  orbs  and  the  interstices  of 
globes,  but  never  into  perfect  globes.  It  avers 
that  the  same  flamy  nature  in  the  proper  place, 
(that  is)  in  the  constellated  firmament,  is  dispersed 
in  infinite  round  atoms,  but  yet.  in  such  s>  rt  that 


418 


THE  THEORY  OF  THE  FIRMAMENT. 


that  twofold  principle  of  pure  air  and  constellation 
be  not  put  off,  nor  yet  flame  extended  to  the  heaven 
of  heavens.  It  affirms  that  stars  are  real  flames, 
but  that  the  actions  of  flame  in  the  heavens  should 
in  no  wise  be  wrested  into  a  comparison  with  the 
actions  of  flame  with  us,  most  of  which  operate 
by  casualty.  It  affirms  that  the  ether  interspersed 
among  stars,  and  the  stars  themselves,  have  re 
spective  relations  to  air  and  flame,  but  sublimated 
and  rectified.  And  thus,  with  respect  to  the  sub 
stance  of  the  constitution  or  system  of  the  uni 
verse,  some  such  ideas  as  these  have  suggested 
themselves  to  our  mind. 

We  must  now  speak  of  the  motions  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  on  account  of  which  we  have 
adduced  these  premises.  It  appears  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  rest  is  not  excluded  from  nature 
as  to  any  whole,  (for  we  are  not  now  discoursing 
of  small  parts.)  This  (waiving  logical  and 
mathematical  subtleties)  is  mainly  evident  from 
the  fact,  that  the  inciting  causes,  and  the  veloci 
ties  of  the  heavenly  motions,  gradually  slacken 
themselves,  as  tending  to  ultimate  cessation,  and 
because  that,  even  the  heavenly  bodies  partake 
of  rest,  hard  by  the  poles,  and  because,  if  immo 
bility  be  excluded  the  system,  it  is  dissolved  and 
dissipated.  But,  if  there  be  a  certain  accumula 
tion  and  mass  of  matter  of  an  immovable  nature, 
there  seems  no  further  room  to  doubt  that  it  is  the 
globe  of  the  earth  ;  for  a  dense  and  close  cement 
ing  of  matter  disposes  toward  a  languid  and 
reluctant  motion ;  as,  on  the  contrary,  a  loose 
unfolding  of  it  towards  a  brisk  and  ready  one. 
And  not  without  reason  did  Telesius  (who  revived 
the  philosophy  and  discussions  of  Parmenides  in 
a  treatise  on  the  principle  of  cold,)  introduce  into 
nature,  not,  indeed,  a  co-essentiality  and  coupling, 
(which  was  his  wish,)  but,  however,  an  affinity 
and  agreement,  to  wit,  on  one  side,  of  hot,  shining, 
rare,  and  immovable,  and,  on  the  opposite  part, 
of  cold,  dark,  dense,  and  immovable,  by  placing 
the  site  of  the  first  harmony  in  the  heavens,  of 
the  second  on  the  earth.  But,  if  rest  and  immo 
bility  be  conceded,  it  seems  fit  that  we  also  sup 
pose  a  motion  without  limit  and  to  the  uttermost 
movable,  especially  in  natures  opposed  to  each 
other.  This  motion  is  commonly  rotatory,  such 
as  is  generally  found  in  the  heavenly  bodies  ;  for, 
motion  in  a  circle  has  no  termination,  and  seems 
to  flow  from  a  natural  desire  of  the  body,  which 
moves,  only  that  it  may  move,  and  follow  itself, 
and  seek  its  own  embraces,  and  excite  its  nature, 
and  enjoy  it,  and  exercise  itself  in  its  proper  ope 
ration  ;  whereas,  a  motion  in  aright  line  may  seem 
a  finite  journeying,  and  a  movement  to  a  boundary 
of  cessation  or  rest,  and  that  it  may  attain  some 
thing,  and  then  quietly  lay  down  its  motion. 
Wherefore,  respecting  that  rotatory  motion,  which 
motion  is  true  and  perennial,  and  commonly  sup 
posed  peculiar  to  the  heavenly  bodies,  we  must 
ire  how  it  equips  itself  in  the  outset,  and  by 


what  rate  of  conduct  it  incites  and  checks  itself, 
and  what  the  nature  may  be  of  those  influences 
which  really  act  upon  it.  In  our  progress  of  un 
folding  these  things,  we  will  refer  to  computations 
and  tables,  that  beautiful  mathematical  dogma, 
(that  all  motions  are  restrained  to  circles,  per 
fect,  or  eccentric,  or  concentric,)  and  that  high 
flown  dictum,  (that  the  earth  is,  in  respect  of  the 
firmament,  like  a  point  of  no  magnitude,)  and 
many  more  feigned  discoveries  of  astronomers. 
But,  first,  we  will  divide  the  heavenly  motions  : 
some  are  cosmici,  others,  ad  invicem.  Those  we 
call  cosmici,  which  the  heavenly  bodies  acquire 
from  the  consent  not  only  of  the  heavens,  but  of 
the  universe :  those  ad  invicem,  in  which  some 
heavenly  bodies  depend  on  others :  and  this  is  a 
true  and  necessary  division.  On  the  supposition, 
then,  of  the  earth  standing  still,  (for  that,  at  pre 
sent,  appears  to  us  the  truer  hypothesis,)  it  is 
manifest  that  the  heavens  are  carried  round  by  a 
diurnal  motion,  the  measure  of  which  motion  is 
the  space  of  twenty-four  hours,  or  thereabouts ; 
and,  consequently,  the  revolution  is  from  east  to 
west,  upon  certain  points,  (which  they  call  poles,) 
south  and  north :  moreover,  the  heavens  are  not 
whirled  round  movable  poles,  nor,  back  again, 
are  the  points  different  from  those  stated  :  and 
this  motion  verily  seems  in  harmony  with  uni 
versal  nature,  and  therefore  sole,  except  as  far  as 
it  admits  both  of  decrements  and  declinations ; 
according  to  which  decrements  and  declinations, 
this  motion  shoots  through  every  thing  movable, 
and  pervades  all  space,  from  the  constellated 
firmament  even  to  the  very  bowels  and  inmost 
recesses  of  the  earth;  not  by  any  snatched  or 
harassing  course,  but  by  perpetual  consent; 
and  that  motion  in  the  constellated  firmament  is 
perfect  and  entire,  as  well  as  to  a  just  measure  of 
time,  as  by  a  full  restoration  of  place;  but,  inas 
much  as  that  motion  recedes  from  the  summit  of 
the  heavens,  insomuch  does  it  become  more  im 
perfect,  with  a  reference  to  its  slowness  as  well 
as  its  aberration  from  a  circular  motion.  And, 
first,  we  must  speak  distinctly  of  that  slowness. 
We  affirm,  that  the  diurnal  motion  of  Saturn  is 
too  slow  to  carry  it  round,  and  restore  it  to  the 
same  point  in  twenty-four  hours;  but  that  the 
starry  firmament  is  carried  on  quicker,  and  out 
strips  Saturn  by  such  an  excess,  as,  in  as  many 
days  as  complete  thirty  years,  would  agree  with 
a  whole  circuit  of  the  heavens.  The  same  is  to  be 
said  of  the  rest  of  the  planets,  according  to  the 
difference  of  the  periodic  time  of  each  planet;  so 
that  the  diurnal  motion  of  the  starry  firmament 
(in  that  same  period,  without  any  regard  to  the 
magnitude  of  the  circle)  is  nearly  by  one  hour 
swifter  than  the  diurnal  motion  of  the  moon; 
for,  if  the  moon  could  complete  its  revolution  in 
twenty-four  days,  then  that  excess  would  be  one 
whole  hour;  wherefore  that  much  talked  of  mo 
tion,  in  an  opposite  and  contrary  direction,  from 


THE  THEORY  OF  THE  FIRMAMENT. 


419 


west  to  east,  which  is  attributed  as  peculiar  to  the 
planets,  is  not  true,  but  only  apparent,  from  the 
outstripping  of  the  starry  firmament  toward  the 
west,  and  the  leaving  behind  of  the  planets 
towards  the  east,  which  being  granted,  it  is  evi 
dent  that  the  velocity  of  that  cosmical  motion,  by 
an  unperturbed  law  of  nature,  as  it  descends, 
decreases,  so  that  the  nearer  each  planet  ap 
proaches  the  earth,  the  slower  it  moves ;  whereas 
the  received  opinion  overthrows  and  turns  upside 
down  that  law ;  and  by  attributing  a  motion  of 
their  own  to  the  planets,  falls  into  the  absurdity, 
that  the  planets,  the  nearer  they  are  to  the  earth, 
(which  is,  naturally,  the  place  of  rest,)  in  that 
ratio  have  their  celerity  increased ;  which  astro 
nomers,  in  the  most  trifling  and  unsuccessful 
manner,  attempt  to  excuse,  by  a  relaxation  of  the 
force  of  the  primum  mobile.  But  if  it  seem  to 
any  one  a  matter  of  wonder,  that,  in  spaces  so 
vast  as  interpose  between  the  starry  firmament 
and  the  moon,  that  motion  should  gradually  de 
crease  by  portions  so  small,  by  less,  to  wit,  than 
one  hour,  which  is  the  twenty-fourth  part  of  the 
diurnal  motion ;  it  subsides  when  we  consider 
that  each  planet,  the  nearer  it  is  to  the  earth, 
completes  lesser  circles,  revolving  in  a  shorter 
circuit;  so  that,  the  decrement  of  the  size  of  the 
circle  being  added  to  the  decrement  of  the  period 
ic  time,  that  motion  is  perceived  to  decrease  in 
a  marked  manner.  Up  to  this  time  we  have 
spoken  of  the  velocity,  absolutely  and  apart,  as 
if  the  planets,  placed,  for  example,  in  the  plane 
of  the  equator,  or  of  any  of  its  parallels,  were 
simply  overtaken  by  the  starry  firmament,  and 
by  one  another,  but  yet  in  that  selfsame  circle ; 
for  this  would  be  a  mere  leaving  behind,  without 
any  respect  to  obliquity.  But  it  is  manifest,  that 
the  planets  not  only  hasten  on  their  course  with 
unequal  relative  speed,  but  do  not  return  to  the 
same  point  of  a  circle,  but  decline  towards  the 
south  and  the  north,  the  limits  of  which  declina 
tion  are  the  tropics ;  which  declination  has  pro 
duced  a  circle  oblique  to  us,  and  its  different 
polarity ;  after  the  same  manner  that  that  ine 
quality  of  velocity  has  caused  the  motion  of  an 
opposite  action.  Nor  really  is  there  need  of  this 
figment  in  the  nature  of  things,  since,  by  introduc 
ing  spiral  lines,  (the  thing  that  comes  nearest  to 
sense  and  fact,)  the  matter  in  dispute  may  be 
settled,  and  those  points  be  safe  and  sound. 
Besides,  (which  is  the  sum  and  substance  of  the 
matter,)  these  spirals  are  nothing  else  than  devia 
tions  from  a  perfectly  circular  motion,  which  the 
planets  cannot  bear;  for  in  proportion  as  the  sub 
stances  degenerate  in  purity  and  expansion,  so 
also  do  their  motions.  But  it  happens,  that  as  in 
point  of  celerity  the  higher  planets  are  carried  on 
quicker,  and  the  inferior  slower;  so,  also,  that 
the  superior  planets  form  spires  that  approximate* 

*  Prnpiores,  if  not  misprinted  for  propriores,  must  respect 
the   foci  of  the  ellipses;  which  explains  "  disjunctas  :"  but, 


and  more  nearly  resemble  circles,  but  the  inferior 
curves  more  disjoined  and  eccentric;  for,  by  de 
scending  more  and  more,  there  is  a  perpetual 
departure  both  from  that  prime  state  of  velocity 
and  that  perfect  circular  motion,  by  a  law  of 
nature  nowhere  interrupted.  In  this,  however, 
the  planets  agree,  (as  bodies  retaining  much  of  a 
common  nature,  though  in  other  respects  differ 
ing,)  that  they  have  the  same  limits  of  declination. 
For  neither  doth  Saturn  return  within  the  tropics, 
nor  does  the  moon  stray  beyond  the  tropics,  (and 
yet  we  must  not  dismiss  from  our  consideration 
what  has  been  handed  down  and  remarked  by 
some  upon  the  wanderings  of  the  planet  Venus.) 
but  all  the  planets,  whether  superior  or  inferior, 
after  their  arrival  at  the  tropics,  turn  themselves, 
and  recommence  a  course  back  again,  weary  of 
a  lesser  spiral  range,  such  as  they  would  have  to 
undergo,  if  they  did  approach  nearer  the  poles; 
and  dreading  that  loss  of  motion  as  destructive 
of  their  nature.  For,  howsoever  it  may  be,  in  the 
starry  firmament,  both  the  stars  near  the  poles, 
and  those  about  the  equinoctial,  preserve  their 
ranks  and  positions,  reduced  into  order,  one  by 
another,  with  steadfastness  and  consummate  uni 
formity;  nevertheless,  the  planets  seem  to  be  of 
that  mixed  nature,  that  they  admit  not  willingly 
an  ampler  circuit,  nor  bear  at  all  a  shorter. 
Furthermore,  these  doctrines  concerning  the  hea 
venly  motions  seem  to  us  somewhat  preferable  to 
forced  and  opposite  motions,  and  of  a  different 
polarity  of  the  zodiac,  and  an  inverted  order  of 
velocity,  and  such  like,  which  in  no  way  agree 
with  the  nature  of  things,  though  they  may  in  a 
manner  accord  with  calculations.  Neither  have 
eminent  astronomers  been  blind  to  these  matters, 
but,  wrapped  up  in  their  craft,  and  reveries 
of  perfect  circles,  catching  at  subtleties  and  the 
evil  results  of  a  fashionable  philosophy,  they 
have  disdained  to  follow  nature.  Truly,  how 
ever,  is  that  despotic  decretal  against  nature  of 
wise  men  more  mischievous,  than  the  very 
simplicity  and  utter  credulity  of  the  uninformed, 
when  any  one,  for  instance,  looks  with  scorn  at 
truth,  because  it  is  manifest.  And  yet  huge  is 
that  evil,  and  most  widely  extended,  that  the 
human  intellect,  whenever  it  finds  itself  unequal 
to  subjects,  has  a  predilection  to  soar  above 
them. 

But  now  we  must  inquire  whether  that  one  and 
simple  motion  in  a  circle,  and  in  a  spiral  curve, 
from  east  to  west,  upon  certain  south  and  north 
poles,  cease  and  terminate  with  the  heavens,  or 
it  also  be  conveyed  down  to  things  beneath. 
For  it  would  not  be  ingenuous  in  us  to  feign  here 
in  this  nether  region  such  aphorism  as  they  sup 
pose  with  respect  to  the  heavens.  "Wherefore, 
if  in  these  regions  be  also  found  that  motion,  it 

if  the  illustrious  author  did  write  propiores,  why  did  he  after 
wards  tautologize  by  saying  "<iuffique  circulos  prop'us  refu 
rant?" 


420 


THE  THEORY  OF  THE  FIRMAMENT. 


will  appear  that,  even  in  the  heavens,  it  is  of  like 
kind,  according  to  a  nature  common  or  cosmical, 
with  that  we  experience.  In  the  first  place,  then, 
it  is  plainly  evident,  that  it  is  not  confined  to  the 
limits  of  the  heavens.  But  the  demonstrations 
and  proofs  of  this  matter  we  have  fully  laid  down 
in  our  anticipation  respecting  the  flowing  and 
ebbing  of  the  sea;  therefore,  to  that  we  refer; 
and  this  being1  supposed  and  taken  for  granted, 
we  will  proceed  to  the  rest  of  the  heavenly 
motions.  But  these  we  have  said  are  not  cosmi 
cal,  but  reciprocal.  There  are  four  kinds  of 
motions  visible  in  the  heavens,  besides  that  which 
we  have  called  cosmical,  which  is  a  diurnal 
motion  in  curves  within  the  tropics.  For  either 
the  stars  are  raised  higher,  and  again  depressed 
lower,  as  they  may  be  farther  from  and  nearer  to 
the  earth ;  or  they  bend  and  wind  themselves 
through  the  latitude  of  the  zodiac,  by  running 
out  more  to  the  south,  or  more  to  the  north,  and 
by  traversing  what  they  call  the  dragons;*  or 
they  vary  from  an  incited  and  also  an  acquisitive 
motion,|  (for  we  join  together  these  two,)  ad 
vancing  sometimes  quicker,  sometimes  slower, 
sometimes  progressively,  sometimes  retrogres- 
sively,  sometimes  even  stopping  and  staying;  or 
at  a  certain  distance  from  the  sun,  they  are  more 
or  less  bound  together  and  drawn  round  each 
other.  We  will  recount  the  causes  and  natures 
of  these  only,  generally  touching  the  heads  of 
each;  for  our  present  undertaking  requires  that 
to  be  done  in  this  place.  But  in  order  to  this, 
and  to  secure  beforehand,  as  well  as  to  open  the 
way,  we  must  frankly  declare  our  sentiments 
upon  some  of  the  maxims  of  philosophers,  as 
also  upon  certain  hypotheses  of  astronomers,  as 
well  as  their  observations  during  several  ages, 
out  of  which  materials  they  built  up  their  myste 
ries;  all  which  things  appear  to  us  to  be  full  of 
error  and  confusion.  Wherefore  there  are  axioms, 
or  rather  certain  conceits,  which,  received  by 
philosophers,  and  transferred  to  astronomy,  and 
unfortunately  being  credited,  have  corrupted  the 
science.  Our  rejection  of  them  will  be  simple, 
as  well  as  our  judgment  upon  them ;  for  it  is  not 
suitable  to  waste  precious  time  on  silly  refuta 
tions.  The  first  of  these  is,  that  all  things  above 
the  moon  inclusively  are  incorruptible;  and  in  no 
degree  or  form  whatever  do  they  undergo  new 
beginnings  or  changes;  of  which  it  has  been 
said  elsewhere,  that  it  is  a  fond  and  silly  saying. 

*  The  twelve  signs  of  the  zodiac,  I  presume  ;  so  called 
because  most  of  them  resemble  some  living  creature  ;  thus, 
TCurip.,  in  Oreste,  has  Apa^oirwJ^f,  'draconibus,  sen  angui- 
bus  plenus  ;"  or  it  may  mean  the  two  nodes,  which  comes  to 
the  same  thing,  represented  by  the  head  and  the  tail  of  the 
Dragon;  for,  the  ascending  node  and  Dragon's  head  have 
the  same  character  to  denote  each,  (Q ;)  so,  likewise,  the 
descending  node  and  Dragon's  tail  (^.) 

t  Consecution,  used  by  Newton  ;  does  it  mean  '  picked  up 
on  its  revolution,'  or  an  orderly  accompanying,  &c.;  a  rela 
tive  motion  ;  or  a  train  of  consequential  motion,  incitatio  re 
ferring  to  original  ? 


Indeed,  from  this  source  proceeds  that  prodigious 
evil,  that,  on  the  appearance  of  every  irregularity 
astronomers  shape  new  and,  as  they  suppose, 
corrected  theories,  and  adapt  causes  eternal  and 
invariable  to  things  more  frequently,  as  it  were, 
fortuitous. 

The  second  is,  that  those  turbulent  actions  of 
compression,  expansion,  resistance,  and  yielding, 
which  seem  to  be  produced  by  a  certain  softness 
and  hardness  of  bodies,  taken  for  elementary  qua 
lities,  are  not  compatible  with  the  heavens,  which 
is  doubtless  of  the  fifth  and  least  elementary 
essence.  But  this  assertion  is  a  presumptuous 
and  arbitrary  reprobation  of  things  and  sense. 
For  wheresoever  any  body  in  nature  is  in  a  state 
of  rest,  there  also  is  a  reluctance  to  change,  and 
that  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  body.  But 
wherever  are  natural  bodies,  and  a  local  motion, 
there  will  take  place  either  repulsion,  or  a  yield 
ing,  or  resolution  of  motion  ;*  for  those  things 
which  have  been  named  compactness,  looseness 
of  parts,  resistance,  a  giving  wray,  with  many 
others,  are  what  matter  universally  undergoes 
everywhere.  Yet,  however,  from  this  source 
have  corne  down  to  us  all  that  multiplicity  of 
orbits  capriciously  jumbled  together,  which,  ne 
vertheless,  they  are  pleased  to  say  are  so  dis 
tinctly  interlineated,  and  which  move  and  turn 
writhin  each  other  so  evenly  and  glibly,  that, 
notwithstanding  their  intricacy,  there  is  no  en 
tangling  or  vibration  ;  all  which  are  visionary  and 
a  palpable  mockery  of  facts. 

A  third  is,  that  to  each  individual  body  apper 
tains  a  peculiar  and  appropriate  motion  ;  and  if 
more  motions  are  observable,  all,  except  one,  are 
extrinsic,  and  derived  from  some  other  moving 
body.  Nothing  falser  than  this  can  be  conceived, 
since  all  bodies,  from  the  manifold  consent  of 
tilings,  are  endued  with  even  many  motions,  some 
denoting  their  nature,  others  waxing  weaker  and 
weaker,  others  even  lying  hid  until  they  be  drawn 
forth  ;  but  there  are  no  special  or  proper  motions 
of  things,  except  the  exact  measures  and  ratios 
of  common  motions.  And  hence  again  has  been 
presented  to  us  that  primum  mobile  severed  and 
made  distinct,  and  heavens  on  heavens,  and  new- 
fangled  mansions  contained  in  them,  that  they 
may  suffice  for  the  performances  of  so  many 
different  motions. 

The  fourth  is,  that  all  heavenly  motions  are 
distributed  through  perfect  circles  ;  which  is  a 
very  cumbrous  doctrine,  and  has  produced  to  us 
those  monsters  of  eccentric  curves  and  epicycles  ; 
whereas,  however,  had  they  consulted  nature,  a 
regulated  and  uniform  motion  belongs  to  a  perfect 
circle ;  but  a  motion,  regulated,  indeed,  but  of 

*  Sectio  means,  classically,  a  confiscation  of  goods,  divi 
sion  of  spoil,  &c..  so,  possibly,  here  it  may  mean  dissipation 
of  motion  ;  if  the  illustrious  author  uses  it  here  for  secutio, 
(a  sequor,)  then  it  means  an  "orderly  following,"  (conse- 
quentia  £7raifoA<n>0r;o-jj,)  but  such  a  word  in  such  a  sense  is 
utterly  unclassical. 


THE  THEORY  OF  THE  FIRMAMENT. 


421 


different  forms,  such  as  is  found  in  many  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  is  the  property  of  other  lines  ; 
and  with  good  reason  Gilbert  ridicules  these, 
because  it  is  not  likely  that  nature  should  have 
formed  wheels,  which,  for  example,  contain  one 
or  two  miles  in  circumference,  in  order  that  a  ball 
of  a  finger's  breadth  should  be  sustained  :  for  of 
so  little  magnitude  does  the  body  of  a  planet  ap 
pear  to  be,  compared  with  those  circles  round 
which  they  pretend  it  is  to  be  carried. 

The  fifth  is,  that  stars  are  parts  of  their  sphere, 
as  if  fixed  therein  by  a  nail.  But  this  is  most 
clearly  arevery  of  those  who  deal  in  mathematics, 
not  in  nature,  and  are  so  stupidly  intent  on  the 
motion  of  bodies,  that  they  entirely  forget  their 
substances.  For  that  fastening  is  a  particular 
disposition  of  compact  and  consistent  things, 
which  have  firm  cohesions,  because  of  the  pres 
sures  of  the  parts.  But  it  is  utterly  to  be  unlocked 
for,  if  it  be  applied  to  soft  or  liquid  substances. 

The  sixth  is  that  a  star  is  a  denser  part  of  its 
sphere  of  action ;  for  the  stars  are  not  only  not  parts, 
but  neither  are  they  denser ;  for  they  are  not 
homogeneous  with  either,  and  that  in  degree  only, 
but  they  are  entirely  heterogeneous,  and  differ  in 
substance;  and,  besides,  that  substance,  as  to 
density,  is  rarer,  and  more  expanded  than  an 
ethereal  one.  Over  and  above  these  there  are 
many  other  conceits  of  equal  whimsicality ;  but 
these  shall  suffice  for  the  subject  now  under 
discussion.  Again,  these  observations  have  been 
made  on  the  fanciful  dicta  of  philosophy  respect 
ing  the  heavens.  But  as  to  what  respects  the 
hypotheses  of  astronomers,  the  refutation  of  them 
is  generally  without  any  use  ;  for  neither  are  they 
asserted  for  truths,  nor  is  it  impossible  that,  al 
though  they  may  vary  and  be  contradictory  in 
themselves,  the  phenomena  should  equally  be 
preserved  and  harmonize.  Therefore,  if  you 
please,  between  astronomy  and  philosophy,  as  if 
linked  together  by  an  expedient  and  legitimate 
bond,  be  so  circumspect  a  mediator,  that,  on  the 
one  hand,  astronomy  may  have  her  previous 
hypotheses,  which  are  best  adapted  to  expedite 
calculations  ;  on  the  other,  philosophy,  such  as 
approach  nearest  to  the  truth  of  nature ;  and  so 
that  the  hypotheses  of  astronomy  may  not  pre 
judice  the  truth  of  a  thing,  and  that  the  decisions 
of  philosophy  may  be  such  as  may  easily  be  ex 
plained  with  regard  to  the  phenomena  of  astro 
nomy.  And  so  much  for  hypotheses. 

Now,  as  to  astronomical  observations,  which 
are  assiduously  accumulated,  and  continually  are 
pouring  down  like  water  from  the  sky,  I  have  a 
great  wish  to  admonish  men  on  that  head  ;  lest, 
haply,  that  be  true  of  them,  which  is  so  elegantly 
fabled  of  the  fly  in  /Esop,  that  sitting  on  the 
harness  of  a  chariot,  contending  for  victory  at  the 
Olympic  games,  cried  out,  "see  what  dust  I 
excite  !"  Just  so,  any  petty  observation,  vacil 
lating1,  at  one  time,  in  the  instrument,  at  this,  in 


the  eye,  and  at  that,  in  a  calculation,  and  which 
possibly  may  be  a  reality,  on  account  of  some 
true  change  in  the  heavens,  calls  into  existence 
new  firmaments,  new  spheres,  and  new  circles. 
And  we  do  not  make  these  remarks  in  order  that 
any  relaxation  in  the  taking  of  observations  or  the 
study  of  history  should  take  place,  both  which 
we  are  of  opinion  should  by  all  means  be  stimu 
lated  and  intently  prosecuted  ;  but  only  that,  in 
rejecting  or  changing  hypotheses,  the  highest 
prudence  and  a  mature  gravity  of  judgment  be 
displayed. 

Wlierefore,  having  now  laid  open  the  road  as, 
to  the  motions  themselves,  we  will  say  a  few 
words  also  as  to  their  nature.  We  have  already 
said,  then,  that  there  are  four  kinds  of  motions 
of  the  higher  order  in  the  heavens  :  an  ascending 
and  descending  motion  through  the  whole  expanse 
of  the  heavens ;  a  motion,  to  the  breadth  of  the 
zodiac,  stretching  out  towards  south  and  north  : 
a  motion  in  the  course  of  the  zodiac,  quick,  slow, 
progressive,  retrograde,  stable ;  and  the  motion  of 
elongation  from  the  sun.  And  let  not  any  one 
object,  that  that  second  motion  of  the  breadth  of 
the  zodiac  or  of  the  signs*  thereof  may  be  refer 
red  to  that  great  cosmical  motion,  since  there  is 
an  inclination  by  turns  towards  the  south  and  the 
north;  which  as  well  as  the  curves  themselves 
from  one  tropic  to  the  other  are  alike,  except  that 
the  latter  motion  is  merely  curvilinear,  but  the 
former  hath  also  many  turnings,  and  lies  inmost 
at  much  less  distances. f  For  neither  hath  this 
point  escaped  our  consideration.  But  assuredly 
the  constant  and  perpetual  motion  of  the  sun  in 
the  ecliptic,  considered  apart  from  all  latitude  and 
exclusively  of  the  signs  of  the  zodiac,  which 
same  sun  does  yet  communicate  with  the  rest  of 
the  planets,  as  to  their  paths  within  the  tropics, 
does  not  allow  us  to  entertain  this  opinion. 
Wherefore,  we  must  seek  for  different  sources  of 
this  and  of  the  other  three  motions.  And  these 
are  the  points,  with  regard  to  the  heavenly  mo 
tions,  which  appear  to  us  to  be  fraught  with  a 
less  degree  of  inconvenience.  But  we  must  see 
what  they  may  be  found  to  deny,  and  what  to 
affirm.  They  deny  that  the  earth  revolves.  They 
deny  that  there  are  in  the  heavens  two  motions 
from  the  east  to  different  points  of  the  west;  and 
they  affirm  one,  that  outstrips  and  consequently 
leaves  behind  others.  Th«y  deny  any  oblique 
circle  and  its  different  polarity,  and  they  affirm 
spiral  curves.  They  deny  a  primum  mobile 
separated  and  forced  asunder;  and  they  affirm  a 
cosrnical  consent,  as  it  were  the  common  bond  of 
the  system.  They  affirm  that  a  diurnal  motion  is 
found  not  in  the  sky  or  heavens,  but  in  the  air,  in 
waters,  even  in  what  are  placed  on  the  superficies 
of  the  earth,  as  far  as  relates  to  their  turning 

*  See  note  on  "  dracones,"  p.  420. 

I  "Tc  sinuoso  in  pectore  fixi." — Pers.  5,  27. 

2N 


422 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


round.  They  aifirm  that  that  close  following 
and  cosmical  rolling-  in  fluids  is  their  whirling- 
tendency  to  become  consistent,  till  at  length  they 
reach  a  state  of  perfect  rest.  They  deny  that  the 
stars  are  fixed  like  knots  in  a  board.  They  deny 
that  eccentric  circles,  epicycles,  and  such  like 
crafty  devices  are  realities.  They  affirm  that  a 
magnetic  motion,  or  one  having  a  power  to  collect 
matter  together,  is  in  full  vigour  in  the  stars,  by 
which  fire  elicits  fire,  and  elevates  it.  They 
affirm  that,  in  the  firmament  of  the  planets,  the 
bodies  of  the  planets  move  and  revolve  quicker 
than  the  rest  of  the  heavens  in  which  they  are 
placed,  which  certainly  revolves,  but  slower. 
They  affirm  from  that  inequality  the  waves.,  the 
undulations,  the  flowings  and  ebbings  of  the 
ethereal  atmosphere  of  the  planets;  and  from 
them  that  various  motions  are  drawn  forth.  They 
affirm  a  necessity  in  the  planets  of  revolving 
quicker  or  slower,  according  as  they  may  be 
placed  higher  or  lower  in  the  heavens,  and  that 
from  the  consent  of  the  universe.  But  at  the 
same  time  they  affirm  the  languor,  resulting  from 
an  incitement  in  their  course  beyond  what  nature 


has  prescribed,  in  the  planets  both  of  the  greater 
and  lesser  orbit.  They  affirm  the  following  after 
the  sun,  from  the  defective  nature  of  weaker 
flames,  of  Venus  and  Mercury ;  since  even  the 
moving  stars,  the  attendants  of  Jupiter,  have  been 
discovered  by  Galilseus.  But  these  are  matters 
of  which  we,  standing  as  it  were  in  the  threshold 
of  natural  history,  and  of  philosophy,  take  a 
prospective  view — subjects  which,  probably,  the 
inquirer  will  be  better  qualified  to  prove,  in  pro 
portion  to  the  depth  of  his  researches  into  natural 
history.  But,  again,  however,  do  we  enter  our 
protest  against  this  fetter  of  intellect.  In  these, 
as  in  other  matters,  we  are  sure  of  the  correctness 
of  our  career,  though  we  be  not  so  persuaded  as 
to  the  station  we  are  entitled  to  hold  in  it.  But 
we  have  mentioned  these  topics  during  our  intel 
lectual  journey,  lest  anyone  should  suppose,  that 
from  a  wavering  judgment,  or  a  destitution  of 
talent  to  maintain  the  position,  we  had  a  preference 
for  advocating  negative  questions. 

Wherefore,  we  will  retain,  as  the  heavenly  na 
tures  are  wont  to  do,  (since  our  treatise  is  of  them,) 
a  dignified  constancy. 


THOUGHTS   AND    OBSERVATIONS 

OF 

FRANCIS  BACON,  OF  VERULAM, 


CONCERNING 


THE  INTERPRETATION   OF  NATURE,   OR  THE  INVENTION   OF  THINGS  AND 

OF  WORKS. 


FRANCIS  BACON  thought  in  this  manner.  The 
knowledge  whereof  mankind  is  now  possessed 
doth  not  extend  to  certainty  and  magnitude  of 
works.  Physicians  pronounce  many  diseases 
incurable,  and  often  make  mistakes,  and  fail  in 
the  treatment  of  the  rest.  Alchymists  wax  old 
and  die  in  the  embraces  of  hope.  The  works  of 
magicians  are  transitory  and  barren.  The  me 
chanical  arts  take  but  little  light  from  philosophy, 
and  do  but  spin  on  slowly  the  little  threads  of 
their  own  experience.  Chance  is,  without  doubt, 
a  beneficial  discoverer  of  inventions;  but  one 
that  scatters  her  favours  among  men  in  distant 
ages  and  periods.  So  he  saw  well,  that  the  inven 
tions  of  man,  which  we  possess,  must  be  counted 
very  imperfect  and  immature;  and  that,  in  the 
present  state  of  the  sciences,  are  not  now  to  be 
expected,  except  in  a  great  length  of  time ;  and 


that  those  which  human  industry  has   hitherto 
produced  cannot  be  ascribed  to  philosophy. 

He  thought  also,  that  in  this  narrowness  of 
man's  power,  that  is  most  deplorable  at  present, 
and  ominous  for  the  future ;  that  men,  contrary  to 
their  real  interest,  strive  to  rescue  ignorance  from 
shame,  and  to  satisfy  themselves  in  this  poverty. 
For,  the  physician,  besides  the  cautels  of  practice, 
(in  which  there  are  no  small  means  of  defending- 
the  credit  of  his  art,)  calls  in  what  is,  as  it  were, 
a  general  cautel  of  art,  by  turning  into  a  reproach 

I  upon  nature  the  weakness  of  his  art ;  and,  what 
art  doth  not  reach,  that  he  discharges  from  art 

I  upon  nature,  as  an  impossibility;  neither  can  art 
be  condemned,  when  itself  judges.  That  philo 
sophy  also,  out  of  which  the  knowledge  of  phvsie, 
which  now  is  in  use,  is  hewn,  itself  recr-ives  and 
cherishes  certain  positions  and  opinions,  which, 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


423 


if  they  be  well  weighed,  induce  this  persuasion, 
that  nothing  arduous  or  powerful  in  nature  is  to 
be  expected  from  art,  and  the  hand  of  man. 
Hence  that  opinion,  that  "  the  heat  of  the  sun  or 
star,  and  the  heat  of  a  fire  differ  in  kind ;"  and 
that  other,  that  "  composition  is  the  work  of  man, 
but  mixture  is  the  work  of  nature  alone,"  and  the 
like ;  which,  if  they  be  carefully  examined,  all 
tend  to  an  envious  circumscription  of  human 
power,  and  a  voluntary  and  artificial  despair, 
which  rejects  not  only  the  auguries  of  hope,  but 
the  chances  of  experiment,  and  cuts  away  all  the 
incitements  and  nerves  of  industry ;  while  they 
are  solicitous,  only,  that  their  art  be  thought  per 
fect,  and  labour  for  a  most  worthless  vainglory  ; 
namely,  to  have  it  believed  that  all  is  impossible 
that  is  not  already  found.  But  the  alchymist,  to 
relieve  his  art,  throws  the  blame  on  his  own 
errors,  accusing  himself,  either  of  not  fully  under 
standing  the  terms  of  the  art  and  its  authors, 
which  makes  him  attend  to  the  whispers  of  tradi 
tion  and  oral  evidence ;  or  else  of  failing  in  the 
true  proportions,  and  scruples,  and  moments  of 
practice ;  which  makes  him  renew  infinitely  his 
trials,  under  what  he  supposes  more  favourable 
prospects.  And,  meantime,  when,  in  the  mazy 
labyrinth  of  experiment,  he  lights  upon  certain 
inventions,  either  new  in  appearance  or  of  some 
utility,  he  feeds  his  mind  with  such  foretastes,  and 
displays  arid  magnifies  them  above  their  value, 
and  supplies  the  rest  in  hopes.  The  magician, 
when  he  finds  something,  as  he  conceives,  above 
nature  effected,  and  is  convinced  that  a  breach  is 
once  made  in  nature,  gives  his  imagination  wings, 
and  scarcely  allows  that  the  matter  admits  of 
degrees  of  greater  or  less ;  wherefore,  he  assures 
himself  of  arriving  at  the  highest  power ;  not 
seeing  that  they  are  but  subjects  of  a  certain  and 
almost  definite  kind,  wherein  magic  and  super 
stition,  in  all  ages  and  countries,  have  had  power 
and  played.  The  mechanical  person,  if  he  chances 
to  add  a  higher  finish  or  more  elegant  ornament 
to  previous  inventions,  or  to  compound,  and  bring 
together  into  one,  separate  observations ;  or  to 
couple  things  more  commodiously  and  naturally 
with  their  use  ;  or  to  produce  the  work  in  greater 
or  less  mass  and  volume  than  has  usually  been 
the  case;  ranks  himself  at  length  among  invent 
ors.  So  he  saw  well,  that  men  came  to  sneer  at 
the  invention  of  new  things  and  arts  as  a  vain 
attempt,  and  not  to  be  relied  on ;  or  to  believe 
that  important  inventions  are  indeed  extant,  but 
confined  among  a  few,  in  the  strictest  silence  and 
mystery ;  or  else  that  they  descend  to  account 
those  little  industries  and  additions,  inventions. 
All  which  turns  to  the  averting  of  men's  minds 
from  just  and  constant  labour,  and  from  the  work 
ing  of  inventions,  noble  and  worthy  of  the  human 
race. 

He  thought  also,  when  men  did  set  before  them 
selves  the  variety  and  exquisite  perfection  of  works 


supplied  for  human  life  by  the  mechanical  arts  ; 
they  are  apt  rather  to  admire  the  provisions  of  man, 
than  to  apprehend  his  want ;  not  considering  that 
the  original  observations  of  man  and  operations 
of  nature,  which  are,  as  it  were,  the  breath  and 
life  of  all  that  variety,  are  not  many  nor  deeply 
fetched  ;  and  that  the  rest  belongs  to  man's  pa 
tience,  and  the  subtile  and  ruled  motion  of  his 
hand  or  instruments  ;  and  that  in  this  the  shop  is 
very  like  the  library,  which  exhibits  such  a  va 
riety  of  books,  in  which,  if  one  carefully  examine, 
he  will  find  nothing  but  infinite  iterations  of  the 
same  thing,  varied  in  the  form  and  mode  of  treat 
ment,  but  preoccupied  in  invention.  So  he  saw 
plainly,  that  opinion  of  abundance  was  one  of  the 
causes  of  want;  and  tbat  both  works  and  doctrines 
appear  many,  but  are,  when  examined,  few. 

He  thought  also  that  those  doctrines  which  we 
have,  are  presented  with  a  kind  of  ambition  and 
pretension,  and  come  before  us  dressed  up  and  in 
form,  as  if  each  art  were  in  every  branch  perfect 
and  finished.  For  it  is  reduced  into  such  methods 
and  divisions,  as  seem  to  embrace  and  include  all 
treatises  that  can  possibly  bear  on  that  subject. 
And  however  weakly  the  parts  are  filled,  and 
destitute  of  any  living  seeds  of  things  :  yet  they 
carry  the  show  and  reason  of  a  total  ;  and  it  is 
brought  to  this,  that  a  few  writings  of  some  re 
ceived  authors,  yet  not  the  best  chosen,  go  for  the 
very  art  in  its  perfection.  Whereas  the  earliest 
searches  for  truth  in  better  faith,  and  with  more 
fortunate  event,  used  to  throw  into  aphorisms  or 
sentences  short,  scattered,  and  unconfined  by  me 
thod,  the  knowledge  which  it  was  their  object  to 
gather  from  the  consideration  of  things,  and  to 
store  up  for  use  ;  which,  as  they  showed  simple 
representations  of  things  discovered,  and  evident 
spaces  and  vacancies  for  things  not  discovered, 
were  less  fallacious  ;  and  invited  men's  talents 
and  thoughts  alike  to  criticism  and  invention.  But 
now  sciences  are  exhibited  in  such  forms,  as  to 
claim  belief,  not  solicit  judgment,  and  check  with 
a  sullen  authority  the  generous  springings  of  in 
vention  :  so  that  every  succession  and  devolution 
of  philosophy  bears  the  character  of  master  and 
i  disciple,  not  of  inventor  and  continuer ;  whence 
it  necessarily  follows  that  sciences  continue  in 
their  own  steps,  and  never  stir  from  their  ground. 
This  has  been  done  for  many  ages,  so  that  what 
is  positive  is  fixed,  and  that  which  is  question  is 
kept  question,  and  remains  wholly  in  the  sam« 
state.  And,  therefore,  he  saw  plainly,  that  co 
lumns  against  proceeding  further  are  firmly  and, 
as  it  were,  fatally  pitched  ;  and  that  it  is  no  mar 
vel,  that  that  is  not  obtained,  for  which  men  feei 
neither  hope  nor  desire. 

He  thought  also,  that  what  is  said   of  men's 
despondency  or  self-conceit,  as  far  as  concerns 
i  most  of  the  pursuers  of  science,  is  too  deeply 
fetched,  for  far  the  greater  part  is  otherwise  occu 
pied.     They  seek  knowledge  either  for  delight 


424 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


and  satisfaction,  or  for  profit  and  professional  emo 
lument,  or  for  support  and  ornament  of  the  reputa 
tion  :  and  if  these  are  proposed  as  the  ends  of 
sciences,  so  far  will  men  be  from  wishing  that  the 
mass  of  knowledge  receive  an  increase,  that,  in 
that  stock  which  is  at  hand,  they  will  seek  no 
more  than  what  they  can  turn  to  use  in  the  matter 
before  them.  And  if  any  one  among  so  many 
seeks  knowledge  with  an  honest  zeal  and  for  its 
own  sake,  yet  he  will  be  found  to  hunt  rather  after 
variety  than  truth.  And  if  he  be  a  severer  inqui 
sitor  of  truth,  yet  that  very  truth  will  be  such  as 
will  rather  explain  more  subtly  things  already 
uttered,  than  kindle  any  new  light.  And  if  his 
heart  is  so  large,  that  he  propounds  to  himself 
further  discovery,  he  will  doubtless  be  most  taken 
with  that  light  which  displays  in  the  distance 
specious  contemplations,  not  that  which  shows 
important  works  and  inventions  close  at  hand. 
So  he  saw  plainly  that  we  return  to  this  point, 
that  it  is  by  no  means  wonderful  that  the  course 
is  not  finished,  when  men  turn  aside  to  these  les 
ser  matters :  and  much  more  when,  as  far  as  he 
can  see,  the  mark  itself  has  never  been  set  up  and 
fixed  for  any  man.  But  the  mark  is  no  other, 
than  that  mankind  be  continually  enriched  with 
new  works  and  powers. 

lie  thought  also,  that  among  these  difficulties 
of  the  sciences,  the  case  of  natural  philosophy  has 
been  the  hardest  of  all:  inasmuch  as  it  has  had 
but  a  trifling  share  of  men's  labour,  has  been  read 
ily  deserted,  and  never  cultivated  and  matured  in 
any  high  degree.  For  since  the  Christian  faith 
has  grown  up  and  been  received,  the  greatest 
number  of  wits  have  been  employed  upon  divinity, 
and  in  this  subject  the  highest  rewards  have  been 
offered  to  men's  studies,  and  aids  of  every  kind 
most  plentifully  supplied.  And  before-time,  like 
wise,  the  greatest  of  the  labours  of  philosophers 
was  consumed  in  moral  philosophy,  which  was 
almost  in  the  place  of  divinity  to  the  heathens. 
And  in  both  times  a  great  part  of  the  best  wits 
betook  themselves  to  public  business,  especially  in 
the  time  of  the  greatness  of  the  Romans,  who  by 
reason  of  their  large  empire  needed  the  service  of 
the  most.  But  the  time  among  the  Grecians,  in 
which  natural  philosophy  seemed  most  to  flourish, 
was  out  a  short  space,  and  that  also  abused  and 
thrown  away  in  disputing,  and  affecting  new 
opinions.  But  from  that  time  to  this,  no  one  can 
be  named,  who  has  made  it  his  business  to  cultivate 
natural  philosophy,  and  consumed  his  life  in  its 
pursuit ;  so  that  this  science  has  not  for  ages  pos 
sessed  any  whole  man,  unless  perchance  one  may 
instance  some  monk  studying  in  a  cloister,  or  some 
gentleman  in  the  country,  and  that  will  be  found 
very  rare.  But  it  has  become  a  kind  of  passage 
ana  bridge  to  other  arts,  and  this  venerable  mother 
of  the  sciences  is  turned  into  their  handmaid,  and 
made  tu  serve  physic  and  practical  mathematics, 
or  to  season  a  little,  young  and  unripe  wits,  like 


a  kind  of  priming,  that  they  may  take  a  second 
wash  in  a  kindlier  and  better  manner.  So  he  saw 
plainly,  that,  from  the  small  number,  and  hurry, 
and  rawness  of  its  followers,  natural  philosophy 
is  left  destitute.  And  soon  after,  he  saw  also  that 
this  had  a  very  great  influence  on  the  general  state 
of  knowledge :  for  all  the  arts  and  sciences,  when 
torn  up  from  this  root,  may  perhaps  be  polished 
and  moulded  to  use,  but  will  grow  no  further. 

He  thought  also,  how  prejudicial  and  every  way 
hard  an  adversary  natural  philosophy  has  in  su 
perstition  and  the  immoderate  and  blind  zeal  of 
religion.  For  he  found  that  some  of  the  Grecians 
who  first  propounded  the  natural  causes  of  thun 
der  and  storm,  to  men  unused  to  such  specula 
tions,  were  condemned,  on  that  ground,  for  impie 
ty  :  and  that  the  cosmographers,  who,  by  most 
certain  proofs,  which  no  man  in  his  senses  would 
now  dispute,  asserted  the  spherical  figure  of  the 
earth,  and  consequently  the  existence  of  anti 
podes  ;  were  not  much  better  treated,  but  included 
in  the  same  sentence,  not  indeed  affecting  life,  but 
character,  on  the  accusation  of  some  of  the  ancient 
fathers  of  the  Christian  church.  And  the  case  of 
natural  history  is  now  much  worse,  in  regard  of 
the  boldness  of  the  schoolmen  and  their  depen 
dencies,  who  having,  as  far  as  they  can,  reduced 
divinity  into  method,  and  given  it  the  form  of  an 
art ;  having  attempted  moreover  to  incorporate  the 
contentions  and  turbulent  philosophy  of  Aristotle 
into  the  body  of  their  religion.  And  it  has  the 
same  tendency  that,  in  our  time,  no  opinions  or 
arguments  are  found  to  have  more  success,  than 
those  which  celebrate  with  great  pomp  and  so 
lemnity  the  union,  as  if  it  were  a  lawful  one,  be- 
tw'een  divinity  and  philosophy,  that  is,  faith  and 
sense;  and  \vhile  they  tickle  men's  minds  with 
an  agreeable  variety,  are  meantime  making  an 
unhallowed  conjunction  of  divine  and  human 
matters.  And,  truly,  if  one  observes  carefully,  as 
great  danger  threatens  natural  philosophy  from  this 
kind  of  hollow  and  ill  assorted  league,  as  from 
avowed  hostility.  For,  in  a  treaty  and  confede 
ration  of  this  nature,  only  the  received  maxims  of 
philosophy  are  included  ;  but  every  thing  of  ad 
vancement  or  improvement  is  most  rigorously  and 
obstinately  shut  out.  In  fine,  with  respect  to 
augmentations,  and  what  may  be  called  the  new- 
shores  and  tracts  of  philosophy,  all  from  the  side 
of  religion  is  full  of  grovelling  suspicion,  and  im 
potent  disdain.  Thus,  some  in  their  simplicity 
fear  that  my  deeper  inquisition  into  nature  may 
penetrate  perchance  beyond  the  allowed  and  sanc 
tioned  limit  of  sobriety,  improperly  applying  what 
is  said  of  the  secrets  of  God,  many  of  which  re 
main  closed  under  the  divine  signet,  to  the  se 
crets  of  nature  which  are  guarded  by  no  interdict. 
Others,  with  greater  cunning,  conceive  that  if 
men  are  ignorant  of  second  causes,  each  particular 
may  be  more  easily  referred  to  the  wand  of  the 
deity  which  they  think  is  of  the  highest  interest 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


42L 


to  religion  ;  though  this  is  no  other  than  seeking 
to  flatter  God  with  a  lie.  Others  tremble  for  the 
precedent,  lest  the  shifting1  and  changes  of  philo 
sophy  end  with  attacking  religion.  Others,  lastly, 
seem  in  fear  that,  in  the  inquisition  of  nature, 
something  may  be  found  to  shake  religion.  Both 
which  opinions  savour  of  a  sort  of  incredulity  and 
worldly  policy,  but  the  last  cannot  even  be  brought 
into  doubt  or  question  without  impiety !  From 
which  it  was  sufficiently  clear,  that  in  opinions 
of  this  kind  there  is  much  weakness,  and  not  a 
little  envy  and  bitterness.  For  natural  philoso 
phy  is,  next  to  the  divine  word,  the  most  certain 
remedy  of  superstition,  and  the  most  wholesome 
food  of  faith  ;  and  is,  therefore,  rightly  considered 
the  truest  and  loveliest  handmaid  of  religion  ;  the 
one  displaying  the  will  of  God,  the  other  his 
power.  So  that  he  was  not  wrong  who  said : 
"  Ye  do  err,  not  knowing  the  Scriptures,  nor  the 
power  of  God,"  joining  in  an  intimate  union,  in 
formation  of  his  will,  and  meditation  on  his  power. 
But,  though  this  is  most  certain,  it  still  remains 
among  the  most  effectual  hindrances  to  natural 
philosophy,  that  all  which  is  pronounced  by  blind 
zeal  and  superstition  is  considered  out  of  the  reach 
of  dispute. 

He  thought  also,  that,  in  the  orders  and  cus 
toms  of  schools,  colleges,  and  such  conventual 
bodies,  all  is  found  to  be  adverse  to  the  further 
progress  of  the  sciences.  For  much  the  greater  part 
are  professors,  and  in  the  receipt  of  emoluments. 
And  the  lectures  arid  exercises  are  so  arranged 
that  nothing  out  of  the  common  routine  can  easily 
arise  in  any  one's  mind.  But  if  a  man  chance  to 
use  the  liberty  of  inquiry  and  judgment,  he  will 
soon  find  himself  left  in  a  great  solitude.  And  if 
ever  he  can  bear  this,  he  will  yet  find  that,  in 
achieving  his  fortune,  this  industry  and  magnani 
mity  will  be  much  hindrance  to  him.  For  in 
places  of  this  kind  men's  studies  are  almost  con- 
lined  to  the  writings  of  certain  authors ;  from 
which,  if  any  one  disagrees,  or  propounds  matter 
of  argument,  he  is  immediately  set  down  as  a 
turbulent  person  and  an  innovator.  Though,  if 
one  judge  fairly,  there  is  a  great  difference  between 
the  government  of  civil  affairs  and  the  arts ;  for 
the  danger  is  not  alike  of  new  light,  and  of  new 
motion.  It  is  true  that  in  civil  affairs  change, 
though  for  the  better,  is  suspected  from  fear  of 
disorder;  since  governments  rest  on  authority, 
consent,  credit,  opinion,  not  on  demonstration  and 
truth  in  abstract.  But  in  the  arts  and  sciences, 
as  in  mines,  all  sides  should  resound  with  new 
works  and  further  progress.  And  it  is  so  in 
right  reason.  But  in  real  life,  he  saw  that  the 
government  and  administration  of  the  knowledge, 
which  is  in  use,  presses  cruelly,  and  checks  the 
increase  and  growth  of  science. 

He  thought  also,  that,  even  in  the  opinion  and 
common  feeling  of  men,  much  appears  on  all 
VOL.  I.— 54 


sides  that  denies  a  fair  opening  to  the  increase  of 
knowledge.  For  most  men,  unjust  to  the  present 
times,  hang  upon  antiquity,  and  believe  that  if 
we,  who  now  live,  had  had  the  office  of  first 
attempting  what  was  sought  for  and  discovered 
by  the  ancients,  we  should  not  have  come  up  to 
their  works  by  a  great  space.  And  in  like  man 
ner  they  believe  that  if  a  man  even  now,  relying 
upon  his  own  powers,  attempt  to  begin  anew  an 
inquisition,  the  end  will  be,  that  he  will  either 
come  to  the  very  conclusion  that  was  approved 
of  by  antiquity;  or  else  to  some  one,  which, 
having  been  long  ago  decided  upon  and  rejected 
by  antiquity,  deservedly  fell  into  oblivion. 
Others,  altogether  slighting  the  powers  of  human 
nature  at  both  periods,  ancient  and  modern,  fall 
into  a  fanciful  and  superstitious  belief  that  the 
elements  of  the  sciences  emanated  from  spiritual 
beings,  and  that  new  inventions  in  the  same 
manner  may  receive  assistance  from  their  author 
ity  and  concurrence.  Others,  of  more  sober  and 
chastened  imagination,  but  greater  diffidence, 
openly  despair  of  any  increase  of  knowledge, 
from  reflecting  on  the  obscurity  of  nature,  the 
shortness  of  life,  the  uncertainty  of  the  senses, 
the  weakness  of  the  judgment,  and  the  difficulties 
and  unbounded  variety  of  experiments.  So  that 
such  swelling  hopes,  as  promise  more  than  we 
now  have,  are  the  offspring  of  a  weak  and  unri- 
pened  mind,  and  will  no  doubt  have  their  begin 
ning  in  exultation,  their  middle  course  in  diffi 
culty,  and  their  end  in  confusion ;  and  there  is  as 
little  hope  of  the  reward  as  of  the  accomplish 
ment  ;  for  knowledges  evidently  breed  and 
expand  in  great  and  excellent  wits,  bat  the  esti 
mation  and  price  of  them  is  in  the  multitude,  or 
in  the  inclinations  of  princes  and  great  persons 
meanly  learned.  So  that  the  projection  of  sciences 
and  the  judgment  upon  them  are  not  in  the  same  ; 
whence  it  comes  that  those  inventions  only  suc 
ceed  which  are  accommodated  to  popular  reason 
and  common  sense ;  as  happened  in  the  case 
of  Democritus'  theory  of  atoms,  which  being 
a  little  too  remote,  was  treated  with  ridicule. 
Hence,  sublime  views  of  nature,  which,  almost 
like  religion,  must  enter  the  senses  of  men 
with  difficulty,  may  be  now  and  then  conceived, 
but  (unless  proved  and  recommended  by  evident 
and  exceeding  utility,  which  hitherto  has  not 
been  the  case)  are  generally  in  a  short  time  blown 
and  extinguished  by  the  winds  of  common  opi 
nions  ;  so  that  time,  like  a  river,  is  wont  to  bring 
down  to  us  what  is  light  and  blown  up,  while  it 
sinks  and  drowns  that  which  is  solid  and  grave. 
So  he  saw  well  that  the  hindrances  of  an  improved 
state  of  the  sciences  were  not  only  external  and 
adventitious,  but  innate  also,  and  drawn  from  our 
very  senses. 

Moreover,  he  thought  that  the  vagueness  and 
irregular  form  of  words  mocks  the  understanding 
3N2 


426 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


and,  as  it  were,  attacks  it;  for  words  are  like 
coins  which  represent  the  image  and  authority  of 
he  people ;  for  they  always  compound  and  clas 
sify  according1  to  popular  notions  and  accepta  :.an, 
which  are  for  the  most  part  erroneous  and  very 
confused ;  so  that  even  infants  in  learning  to 
speak,  are  compelled  to  suck  in  and  swallow  a 
pernicious  system  of  error.  And  though  the  wise 
and  learned  endeavour  by  various  contrivances  to 
deliver  themselves  from  this  bondage,  by  making 
new  words,  which  is  harsh,  and  by  inserting 
definitions,  which  is  troublesome,  they  cannot, 
with  all  their  strength,  throw  off  the  yoke;  so 
that  innumerable  controversies,  even  in  the  most 
acute  discussions,  are  raised  about  words,  and, 
what  is  much  worse,  that  depraved  coinage  of 
words  reflects  its  rays  and  impressions  into  the 
mind  itself,  and  is  thus  not  only  a  hindrance  in 
discourse,  but  injurious  also  to  the  judgment  and 
understanding.  So  he  saw  well,  that,  among  the 
internal  causes  of  error,  he  must  place  this  as  one 
serious  and  pernicious  import. 

He  thought  also  that,  besides  the  usual  difficul 
ties  of  the  sciences  and  knowledge,  natural  phi 
losophy,  particularly  the  active  and  operative,  had 
its  peculiar  drawbacks  and  impediments.  For  it 
has  been  notably  hurt  and  discredited  by  some  of 
its  professors,  light  and  vain  men,  who,  partly 
from  credulity,  partly  from  craft,  have  loaded  the 
human  race  with  promises,  offering  promulgation 
of  life,  delay  of  infirmity,  relief  from  pain,  supply 
of  natural  defects,  deceptions  of  the  senses,  the 
binding  or  inciting  of  the  affections,  illuminations 
of  the  mental  powers,  ecstasies,  transmuting  of 
substances,  unlimited  multiplication  of  motions, 
impressions  on  the  air  and  changes  of  it,  divina 
tion  of  future  events,  representations  of  distant 
occurrences,  revelations  of  mysteries,  and  many 
other  things.  Now,  in  considering  these  liberal 
givers,  we  shall  not  be  far  wrong  if  we  pass  a 
judgment  like  this:  that  there  is  as  much  differ 
ence  in  philosophy,  between  their  triflings  and 
the  true  arts,,  as  there  is  in  history  between  the 
wars  of  Julius  Caesar  or  Alexander,  and  those  of 
Amadis  de  Gaul  or  Arthur  of  Britain.  For  it  is 
evident  that  those  renowned  generals  achieved 
more  in  reality  than  the  other  shadowy  heroes  are 
pretended  to  have  done,  but  by  means  and  ways 
of  action  not  at  all  fabulous  or  supernatural.  So 
that  it  is  not  just  to  deny  credit  to  true  history, 
because  it  is  sometimes  wounded  and  injured  by 
fabulous  stories.  For  Ixion  of  a  cloud  begat  the 
Centaurs,  yet  still,  of  the  real  Juno,  Jove  begat 
Hebe  and  Vulcan,  that  is,  the  lovely  and  divine 
virtues  of  nature  and  art.  But  though  this  is  true, 
and  it  shows  great  ignorance  to  be  incredulous 
without  distinction;  yet,  he  saw  well  that  the 
access  to  truth  was  formerly  shut  up,  or  at  least 
narrowed  by  fables  of  this  kind,  and  that  the 
ignominy  of  vanity  even  now  abates  all  greatness 
of  mind. 


He  thought  also  that  there  is  found  in  the  mind 
of  man  a  certain  affection,  naturally  bred  and  for 
tified  by  some  men's  opinion  and  doctrine,  which 
has  checked  and  prevented  the  true  proceeding  of 
natural  philosophy,  that  is,  the  active  and  opera 
tive  kind.  This  is  a  rotten  and  pernicious  idea 
or  estimation,  that  the  majesty  of  man's  mind 
suffers  diminution,  if  it  be  long  and  deeply  con 
versant  with  experiences  and  particulars  subject 
to  sense,  and  bound  in  matter  :  especially  as  such 
things  usually  appear  laborious  to  search,  ignoble 
to  meditate,  harsh  to  deliver,  illiberal  to  practise, 
infinite  in  number,  and  contemptible  in  their  mi 
nuteness;  and,  though  such  qualities  as  these  no 
ways  accommodate  to  the  glory  of  the  arts.  And 
this  opinion  or  state  of  mind  received  much 
strength  from  another  wild  and  unfounded  opi 
nion,  which  held  that  truth  is  innate  in  the  mind 
of  man,  and  not  introduced  from  without,  and 
that  the  senses  rather  excite  than  inform  the 
understanding.  Neither  has  this  error,  and  (to 
describe  it  truly)  delusion  of  mind,  been  any 
ways  corrected  by  those  who  have  given  to  sense 
the  due,  that  is,  the  first  place.  Nay,  more,  even 
these,  by  their  example  and  practice,  deserting 
altogether  natural  history  and  actual  experience, 
rested  only  upon  agitation  of  wit,  arid  grovelled 
without  ceasing  among  the  darkest  idols  of  the 
understanding,  under  the  suspicious  name  of  con 
templation  and  reason.  So  he  saw  well  that  this 
rejection  and  divorce  of  particulars  has  thrown 
the  human  family  into  total  disorder. 

He  thought,  also,  that  we  should  not  make  our 
conjecture  from  the  hindrances  we  meet  with; 
only,  since  it  is  possible  that  the  fortune  of  man- 
dnd  may  overcome  these  difficulties  and  burst  the 
barriers.  Hence,  we  must  consider  and  examine 
closely  the  nature  of  that  philosophy  which  is 
received,  and  whatever  other,  from  ancient  times, 
las  been  cast  upon  our  shores,  like  the  spars  of 
i  sunken  vessel.  And  he  found  that  the  natural 
philosophy  which  we  have  from  the  Greeks  is  to 
)e  accounted  a  kind  of  childhood  of  science ; 
md  that  its  properties  are  those  which  belong  to 
)oys,  that  is,  it  is  forward  to  chatter,  but  immature 
nd  unqualified  for  generation. 

Aristotle,  by  common  consent  the  chief  of  that 
hilosophy,  without  ever  meddling  with  the  ob 
servation  of  nature,  has  been  unprofitably  em- 
loyed  on  stale  opinions,  and  on  their  comparison, 
pposition,  and  reduction.      Nor  is  it  reasonable 
to  hope  for  any  thing  solid  from  one  who  has 
made  up  the  world  itself  of  categories.     For,  it 
is  of  little  concern  whether  we  lay  down  that 
matter,  form,  and  privation,  or  substance,  quality, 
and  relation,  are  the  real  principles :  but  we  had 
best  pass  by  those  controversies  ;  for  it  would  be 
inconsistent  to  set  about  a  formal  confutation,  when 
we   neither  agree   about  the  principles,  nor  the 
modes  of  demonstration ;  and,  again,  to  lash  \vith 
ridicule  one  who  has  obtained  an  authority  almost 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


427 


dictatorial  in  philosophy,  would  have  more  levity 
than  suits  the  dignity  of  the  subject,  and  be, 
moreover,  arrogant.  He  has  certainly  corrupted 
natural  philosophy  with  logical  subtleties,  which 
were  his  own  creation,  as  he  himself  too  loudly 
boasts. 

But,  to  leave  him,  Plato  was,  without  doubt,  a 
man  of  loftier  genius,  and  one  who  aimed  also  at 
the  knowledge  of  forms,  and  used  induction  uni 
versally,  not  for  principles  only;  but  with  reason 
ing  futile  on  both  sides,  since  he  pursued  and 
accepted  vague  inductions  and  abstract  forms. 
And,  if  we  consider  with  attention  the  writings 
and  habits  of  this  philosopher,  we  shall  find  that 
he  took  no  great  interest  in  natural  philosophy,  at 
least  so  far  only  as  to  vindicate  his  own  name  and 
character  as  a  philosopher,  or  give  by  its  inter 
mixture  a  certain  majesty  to  his  moral  and  political 
doctrines.  And  he  adulterated  nature  as  much 
with  theology,  as  Aristotle  with  logic;  and,  to 
say  the  truth,  approached  as  near  to  the  province 
of  the  poet  as  the  other  to  that  of  the  sophist. 
Now,  we  can  draw  the  doctrines  of  these  two 
from  the  very  fountain  head,  their  works  having 
survived. 

There  is  a  different  estimate  to  be  made  of  the 
rest,  namely,  Pythagoras,  Empedocles,  Heracli- 
tus,  Anaxagoras,  Democritus,  Parmenis,  Zeno- 
phanes,  and  others ;  because  we  have  received 
their  opinions  by  means  of  intermediate  writers, 
only,  and  by  tradition,  and  scattered  fragments; 
so  that  we  must  use  closer  inquisition,  with 
greater  scruple  of  judgment,  to  make  up  for  the 
disadvantage  of  their  circumstances.  But  yet, 
he  has  been  most  diligent  and  watchful  to  catch 
every  whisper  about  these  opinions,  so  as  to  extract 
whatever  can  be  found  referring  to  them,  where 
they  are  confuted  by  Aristotle,  or  cited  by  Plato 
or  Cicero ;  or  in  Plutarch's  budget,  or  Laertius' 
lives,  or  Lucretius'  poem ;  or  any  other  scattered 
hint  or  mention  :  and  he  has  examined  them  with 
impartiality  and  careful  judgment.  And,  first, 
there  is  no  doubt  that,  if  their  opinions  were  in 
their  own  works,  they  would  have  greater  weight ; 
for  the  strength  of  theories  lies  in  a  nice  and  mu 
tual  harmony  of  the  parts,  and  a  certain  unbroken 
demonstration  ;  and  they  are  therefore  weakened 
when  uttered  in  fragments  :  wherefore,  he  did  not 
make  his  judgment  of  them  lightly. 

He  found,  also,  among  so  many  opinions,  a 
number  of  remarks  made  with  some  care  with 
regard  to  the  observation  of  nature,  and  the  as 
signing  of  causes  :  and,  as  commonly  happens, 
some  have  been  more  successful  than  others  in 
different  branches.  The  discoveries  and  opinions 
of  Pythagoras  alone,  (though  his  doctrine  of 
numbers  implies  something  physical,)  are  mostly 
of  that  kind  which  lead  rather  to  the  founding  of 
some  religious  order,  than  to  the  opening  of  a 
school  in  philosophy ;  which  the  event  proved : 
for,  this  philosophy  had  more  weight  in  the  heresy 


of  the  Manichseans,  and  the  superstition  of  Ma 
homet,  than  among  men  of  science.  The  rest, 
however,  were  certainly  natural  philosophers; 
and  there  are  some  of  them  who  have  dived  into 
nature  much  deeper  and  more  acutely  than  Aris 
totle.  But  he  busied  himself,  like  the  Ottomans, 
in  destroying  his  brothers  ;  and  succeeded  in  it  to 
his  wish.  Now,  he  had  the  same  opinion  of 
Aristotle  as  of  the  other  Greek  philosophers, 
namely,  that  such  systems  and  theories  were, 
like  the  different  arguments  of  dramatic  pieces, 
moulded  into  a  certain  keeping  with  nature,  some 
with  more  nicety,  others  more  negligently  and 
roughly ;  and  that,  as  belongs  to  fiction,  they  ap 
peared  more  trim  and  symmetrical  than  real 
accounts.  Nor  could  the  wanderings  and  search- 
ings  of  the  human  mind  rest  or  limit  themselves 
in  those  theories  which  were  uttered  and  pub 
lished.  For,  had  not  the  customs  and  affections 
of  men,  and  the  pursuits  of  business,  been  adverse 
and  blighting  to  novelties  of  this  kind,  even  in 
matters  of  contemplation,  many  other  sects  would 
doubtless  have  been  formed  in  natural  philosophy. 
For,  as  it  is  in  astronomy  with  those  who  decide 
that  the  earth  moves  in  a  circle,  and  those  who 
explain  it  by  elliptical  and  epicycle  motion,  that 
their  systems  to  account  for  appearances  in  the 
heavens,  are  alike  pleadings  for  a  side,  and  amount 
not  to  conviction,  nay,  even  the  calculations  of 
the  tables  answer  with  each  :  in  the  same  way  it 
would  be  much  easier  to  devise  various  theories 
in  natural  philosophy,  all  widely  differing  with 
one  another,  and  yet  each  consistent  with  itself, 
and  using  unfairly  the  suffrage  of  popular  zeal, 
which,  in  questions  of  this  kind,  often  guides  the 
judgment,  and  drawing  it  over  to  opposite  sides. 

There  has,  indeed,  been  no  want  of  men  who, 
in  this  age  and  the  last,  have  meditated  new  sys 
tems  of  natural  philosophy.  For,  within  our 
recollection  Telesio  has  appeared  on  the  stage, 
and  exhibited  a  new  plot,  not  so  well  rewarded 
with  applause,  as  the  probability  of  its  arguments 
merited  :  and  Fracastoro,  not  long  since,  though 
he  did  not  set  up  a  new  sect,  yet  was  staunch  in 
using  liberty  of  judgment  and  inquiry  :  Cardan, 
too,  was  as  bold,  but  less  steady.  Very  lately, 
also,  our  countryman,  Gilbert,  after  most  labo 
riously  examining  the  nature  of  the  magnet  with 
great  sagacity  and  perseverance,  and  with  a  host 
and  almost  a  multitude  of  experiments,  began 
forthwith  to  design  a  new  school  in  natural  phi 
losophy;  and  was  not  terrified  by  the  ridiculed 
name  of  Zenophanes.  whose  opinion  he  inclined 
to.  These,  then,  and  all  who  are  or  shall  be  like 
them,  must  be  ranked  in  the  band  of  ancients,  for 
there  is  the  same  character  in  them  all :  thus, 
they  were  men  who  gave  their  opinions  on  few 
matters,  and  trifled  with  nature  without  making 
such  a  close  union  with  her  as  to  beget  either 
certainty  of  contemplation  or  useful  works. 

It  is  a  truth  that  out  of  so  many  schools  cf  nhi 


428 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


losophy,  laboriously  cultivated  through  such  a 
length  of  years,  not  one  experiment  can  be  cited, 
which  has  a  view  to  the  improvement  or  aggran 
dizement  of  the  state  of  man,  and  can  be  pointed 
to  with  truth  as  the  gifts  of  such  speculations.  On 
the  contrary,  indeed,  Aristotle's  device  of  the  four 
elements,  which  he  rather  gave  currency  to  than 
invented,  (and  which  being  greedily  caught  up  by 
physicians,  drew  after  it  the  systems  of  the  four 
complexions,  the  four  humours,  and  the  four  pri 
mary  qualities,)  like  some  malignant  and  unlucky 
star,  caused  extraordinary  barrenness  in  medicine, 
besides  many  mechanical  arts  ;  men  all  the  while 
allowing  themselves  to  be  satisfied  with  conceits 
and  methodized  nothings  of  this  kind,  and  carry 
no  further.  Meantime  a  multitude  of  questions 
and  controversies  clamoured  and  fluttered  on  all 
sides  round  these  philosophies,  so  that  they  seem 
represented  to  the  life  in  the  fable  of  Seylla,  who 
had  the  upper  part  and  countenance  of  a  virgin, 
while  her  womb  was  girt  and  crowded  with  bark 
ing  monsters.  In  like  manner  have  those  doc 
trines  something  specious  at  first  sight,  but  when 
we  approach  the  generative  part,  to  produce  fruits, 
nothing  is  to  be  found  but  strife  and  restless  dis 
puting,  which  are  in  the  room  of  bearing. 

At  the  same  time  it  must  be  remembered,  that 
the  reasons  for  rejecting  these  systems  assail  the 
opinions  only,  not  the  understandings  or  industry 
of  their  authors.  For,  in  proportion  to  a  man's 
wit  and  zeal,  does  he,  if  he  desert  the  light  and 
observation  of  nature  and  the  evidence  of  particu 
lars,  plunge  himself  and  become  involved  in  the 
darkest  and  most  intricate  recesses,  and,  as  it 
were,  dens  of  fantasies  and  idols.  Again,  the 
general  plans  of  the  philosophies  are  not  attached 
with  the  purpose  of  approving  the  detailed  appli 
cation  of  minor  causes,  which  are  commonly  given 
and  inquired  into  in  the  works  of  philosophers  of 
this  kind  :  on  the  contrary,  these  are  no  better 
than  the  other,  not  only  because  they  depend 
upon  them,  but  also  because  they  display  no  se 
verity  of  inquisition,  and  lead  us  to  matters  not 
unknown,  but  almost  at  our  feet,  in  which  the 
mind  acquiesces  lightly,  and  is  satisfied,  but  by 
no  means  penetrating  into  the  interior  of  nature. 
And  they  have  always  this  fault,  which  is  alike 
in  all,  that  they  connect  together  experiments 
and  known  effects  in  a  kind  of  system,  and,  as  it 
were,  with  a  net,  made  to  the  just  measure  of 
what  is  known ;  but  never  exhibit  any  cause  or 
canon,  which  may  mark  out  new  and  formerly 
unknown  effects  and  experiments. 

Having  thus  traversed  these  outskirts  of  philo 
sophy,  casting  his  eyes  on  every  side,  he  turned 
them  to  the  depths  of  antiquity,  as  to  a  kind  of 
clouded  and  dim  region.  And  he  saw  that  if  he 
fhose  to  deal  unfairly,  there  would  be  no  difficulty 
in  persuading  men,  that  with  the  ancient  sages, 
long  before  the  Grecian  times,  natural  science 
flourished  with  greater  vigour,  but  perhaps  in 


greater  silence:  and  that  it  were,  therefore,  more 
dignified  to  refer  to  them  those  discoveries  which 
are  now  made  :  as  new  men  are  used  to  do,  who 
connect  with  themselves  the  nobility  of  some  an 
cient  stem  by  the  rumours  of  genealogy  and  con 
jecture.  But,  relying  on  the  evidence  of  facts, 
he  rejected  every  form  of  imposture  ;  and,  what 
ever  might  be  his  opinion  about  those  times, 
thought  that  it  had  no  more  relation  to  the  matter 
in  hand  whether  our  discoveries  were  known  to 
the  ancients,  and  in  the  revolution  of  things  have 
sunk  and  risen  again  ;  than  it  should  be  any  con 
cern,  whether  the  New  World  be  that  island  At 
lantis,  and  so  known  to  the  ancients,  or  was  first 
discovered  by  us.  For  inventions  are  to  be  sought 
in  the  light  of  nature,  not  traced  in  the  shades  of 
antiquity.  Meanwhile,  some  may  remark  that  he 
has  passed  over  the  art  or  philosophy  of  chymistry ; 
which  he  has  done  from  respect,  being  unwilling 
to  class  it  with  those  philosophies  which  are  en 
tirely  barren  of  works,  since  it  has  displayed  and 
given  many  noble  discoveries.  Indeed,  this  art 
accords  with  the  fable  of  the  old  man,  who  be 
queathed  his  sons  a  treasure  buried  in  his  vine 
yard  without  showing  them  where,  whereby  they 
set  themselves  with  diligence  to  dig  the  vineyard, 
and  did  not  find  the  treasure,  but,  by  their  hus 
bandry,  the  vintage  was  made  more  abundant. 
In  like  manner  the  sons  of  chymistry,  while  they 
are  busy  seeking  the  hidden  gold,  whether  real  or 
not,  have  by  turning  over  and  trying,  brought 
much  profit  and  convenience  to  mankind.  Yet 
their  inventions  issued  in  no  other  or  better  way 
than  the  birth  and  advancement  of  mechanical 
arts,  that  is,  by  mere  experience.  For  their  phi 
losophy  and  speculation  are  unsound,  and  harsher 
than  those  fabulous  philosophies  of  which  we 
have  been  speaking.  For  though  the  three  prin 
ciples  was  no  useless  discovery,  but  partly  border 
ing  on  fact :  yet,  for  the  most  part,  practised  in  a 
few  experiments  of  distillation,  they  referred 
every  thing  in  philosophy  to  separation  and  libe 
ration,  unmindful  of  true  alteration.  But  the 
structure  of  that  opinion,  on  which  as  a  foundation 
their  philosophy  rests,  that  there  are  four  matrices 
or  elements  in  which  the  seeds  and  forms  of  matter 
complete  their  fruits,  and  that  these  are  quadriform 
according  to  the  different  elements,  so  that  no 
thing  is  found  in  sky,  air,  water,  or  earth,  which 
has  not  in  the  three  remaining  ones  something 
parallel  and  corresponding :  this  fantastic  arrange 
ment  of  matter  will  certainly  scarce  have  a  place 
in  the  dreams  of  the  skilful  observer  of  nature. 
Not  unlike  this  are  the  harmonies  of  things  be 
lieved  in  by  the  followers  of  natural  magic,  who 
explain  every  thing  by  sympathy  and  antipathy, 
and,  by  the  most  idle  and  unfounded  conjectures, 
affix  to  things  miraculous  virtues  and  powers. 
Yet  he  treats  them  gently,  because  among  so 
many  fables  they  have  yet  produced  some  works, 
though  commonly  of  that  kind  which  are  rathei 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


429 


novel  and  surprising1  than  fit  for  profit  and  utility. 
But  even  novelty  has  often  the  advantage  of 
agitating  somewhat  the  intricate  folds  of  nature, 
and  assisting  with  light  at  least,  if  not  with  deed. 
So  he  saw  that,  neither  in  the  opinions  of  the 
Greeks  or  the  moderns,  nor  in  the  traditions  of 
alchymy  or  natural  magic,  could  any  thing  be 
found  leading  to  the  increase  of  human  means. 
Wherefore  all  these  should  either  be  thrown  into 
oblivion,  or  given  up  to  the  pursuit  of  the  multi 
tude,  while  the  true  sons  of  knowledge  turn  their 
course  elsewhere. 

He  thought  also  that  the  modes  of  demonstra 
tion  should  be  reviewed ;  for  demonstrations,  by 
a  certain  influence,  are  philosophy ;  and,  in  pro 
portion  as  they  are  just  or  faulty,  complete  or 
imperfect,  doctrines  will  probably  ensue  from 
them.  But  he  found  that  the  demonstrations 
which  are  in  use  are  neither  full  nor  certain.  Yet 
we  should  not  blame  the  senses,  as  some  have 
done.  For  the  errors  of  the  senses  in  particulars 
have  no  great  effect  on  the  sum  of  the  sciences  : 
not  more  at  least  than  may  be  corrected  by  the 
rightly  informed  mind.  But  that  the  mind  itself, 
if  it  rely  on  nature  without  art  and  discipline,  is 
unequal  to  the  matter  and  below  it,  may  be  pro 
nounced  boldly.  For  it  is  neither  so  capacious 
as  to  admit  and  arrange  the  infinite  variety  of 
particulars  necessary  for  information,  nor  so  free 
and  unbiassed  as  to  receive  true  and  natural 
impressions  without  some  warp  and  colouring. 
Nay,  it  is  very  certain  both  that  the  human  mind 
is  generally  like  an  uneven  mirror,  which  re 
ceives  and  reflects  the  rays  of  objects  according 
to  the  angle  of  each  facet,  and  not  on  a  plain 
surface;  and  also  that  every  one,  from  his  educa 
tion,  pursuits,  and  constitution,  is  haunted  with  a 
kind  of  misleading  power,  and,  as  it  were, 
familiar  spirit,  which  mocks  and  disturbs  the 
mind  with  various  and  fantastic  devices.  Yet 
we  must  not,  therefore,  fall  into  the  opinion  of 
incapability.  For  it  is  evident,  that  by  no  steadi 
ness  of  hand  or  skill  of  eye,  however  exquisite, 
could  an  exact  straight  line  or  circle  be  described  ; 
yet,  on  applying  a  ruler  or  turning  the  compasses, 
the  matter  is  easy.  Again,  in  mechanical  crafts 
the  naked  hand  of  man  can  work  but  little,  yet 
with  the  aid  and  means  of  instruments  it  con 
quers  alike  the  vastest  and  most  minute.  It 
follows  then  that  we  must  fly  to  art,  and  must 
look  to  demonstration,  which  is  governed  by  art. 
And  sentence  may  be  given  in  a  few  words  on 
the  syllogism  which  is  Aristotle's  oracle.  It  is, 
doubtless,  a  useful  instrument  and  aid  to  the 
understanding  in  sciences,  which  are  founded  in 
human  opinion,  as  the  moral  and  political;  but 
inferior  and  incompetent  to  the  subtlety  and 
obscurity  of  natural  processes.  For  the  syllo 
gism  certainly  consists  of  propositions,  and  the 
proposition  of  words,  and  words  are  the  evi 
dences  and  signs  of  ideas  or  conceptions  of 


the  mind.  So  that  if  the  ideas  themselves,  , 
which  are  the  souls  of  words,  are  vague,  incom 
plete,  and  not  sufficiently  defined,  (which  is  for 
the  most  part  the  case  in  nature,)  the  whole 
sinks.  Induction  remains  the  last  and  only  re 
fuge  and  aid  for  matter;  nor  are  our  hopes 
placed  in  it  undeservedly,  since  it  can  collect 
laborious  works,  and  the  certain  evidence  of 
facts,  and  lay  them  before  the  mind.  But  its 
name  only  is  known,  its  power  and  use  has 
hitherto  lain  hid.  For  induction  must  be  judged 
of  thus;  in  its  use  and  form  men  have  erred 
doubly.  First,  that  impatient  of  delay  and 
searching  round  for  short  cuts,  and  hastening  to 
fix  some  things  as  certain,  round  which  as  poles 
discussions  might  turn,  they  have  only  applied  it 
to  the  general  principles  of  sciences,  lightly 
hoping  to  work  all  within  by  syllogistic  deduc 
tion.  Secondly,  that  having  examined  the  syl 
logism  accurately,  but  this  demonstration  hastily 
and  carelessly,  they  have  devised  its  form  very 
simple  and  indeed  puerile,  to  proceed  by  enume 
ration  alone,  and  thus  conclude  precariously,  not 
necessarily.  No  one,  therefore,  can  wonder  if  - 
he,  with  this  opinion  on  demonstrations,  does  not 
agree  on  natural  philosophy  with  others,  either 
ancient  or  modern.  For  it  cannot  be,  (to  speak 
jestingly,)  that  the  drinkers  of  water  and  wine 
should  feel  alike.  For  they  swallow  a  raw  fluid, 
either  flowing  spontaneously  from  the  mind,  or 
pumped  up  with  some  labour;  but  he  drinks  a 
liquor  prepared  from  innumerable  grapes,  mature 
and  in  season,  plucked  and  heaped  up  in  bunches, 
afterwards  squeezed  in  the  winepress,  purified  in 
the  vat,  and  clarified;  which  will  bear  time,  and 
at  the  same  time  is  corrected  of  all  intoxicating 
quality,  by  neither  giving  nor  leaving  any  room 
for  the  vapours  of  the  fancy.  So  he  saw  that  the 
philosophies  of  which  we  have  spoken  should  be 
rejected,  not  only  for  their  barrenness  of  works, 
but  for  the  weakness  and  fallaciousness  of  their 
demonstrations  also,  since  they  are  not  only  re 
moved  from  nature,  but  deserted  and  betrayed  by 
the  very  auxiliaries  they  have  raised. 

He  thought  also,  that  we  should  make  a  sepa 
rate  review  of  the  modes  of  invention  in  use,  if 
there  be  any.  But  in  this  quarter  not  so  much 
misleading  and  devious  paths,  as  solitude  and 
vacancy,  are  found,  which  strike  the  mind  with  a 
kind  of  stupor.  It  has  not  been  the  object  or 
desire  of  any  man  to  guide  the  force  of  human 
wit  and  understanding  to  the  invention  and  im 
provement  of  arts  and  sciences,  and  hew  a  road 
thither;  but  the  whole  has  been,  and  is  left  to  the 
dimness  of  tradition,  the  steps  and  fury  of  argu 
ments,  or  the  waves  and  turnings  of  chance  and 
experiment.  Hence,  it  was  not  without  reason, 
that,  in  the  temples  of  the  Egyptians,  who  (as 
was  the  custom  of  antiquity)  used  to  deify 
I  inventors,  so  many  images  of  brutes  were  found ; 
!  since  animals  without  the  light  of  reason  have 


430 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


been,  almost  as  much  as  men,  the  discoverers  of 
nature's  operations,  nor  have  men  in  this  matter 
made  much  use  of  their  prerogative.  We  must, 
however,  examine  what  is  done.  And,  first,  of 
the  simple  and  untaught  mode  of  invention  which 
is  common  with  men,  it  is  no  other  than  that  he 
who  o-irds  and  prepares  himself  for  an  invention, 
first  inquires  and  learns  what  others  have  said  on 
the  subject,  then  adds  his  own  reflection.  But 
for  a  man  to  commit  himself  to  the  guidance  of 
others,  or  to  entreat  and  almost  invoke  his  own 
spirit  to  give  him  oracles,  is  a  proceeding 
without  ground.  Next  follows  the  invention  in 
use  with  logicians,  which  has  only  a  nominal 
connexion  with  the  matter  in  hand.  For  it  is  not 
of  principles  and  axioms,  of  which  arts  consist, 
but  only  of  what  seems  agreeable  to  them.  For 
logic,  with  a  well  known  response,  drives  the 
curious  and  importunate,  and  lovers  of  business 
to  yield  their  faith,  as  it  were  allegiance  to  some 
art.  There  remains  simple  experience,  which,  if 
unforeseen,  is  called  chance,  if  sought,  experi 
ment.  And  this  is  no  more  than,  as  they  say, 
the  faggot  unbound.  Nay,  more,  they  who  are 
assiduously  employed  in  opening  and  bringing  to 
light  some  nature  or  work,  by  a  long  and  desul 
tory  course  of  experiments,  are  either  fixed  in 
amazement,  or  run  round  in  giddiness,  sometimes 
eager,  at  others  confused;  and  always  find  matter 
for  further  inquiry.  Nor  can  it  well  be  other 
wise.  For  it  is  an  aimless  and  very  foolish 
speculation,  to  search  for  the  nature  of  a  thing  in 
itself:  for  the  same  nature  is  hidden  in  some,  in 
others  open,  and  as  it  were  palpable;  and  causes 
admiration  in  the  latter,  in  the  former  not  even 
attention.  Thus  that  quality  of  bodies  which 
resists  separation,  seems  a  very  subtle  thing,  and 
ingenious  in  bubbles  of  water,  which  for  this 
purpose  throw  themselves  into  thin  films  in  the 
form  of  a  hemisphere.  The  same  quality  is 
little  marked  in  stone  or  wood,  but  goes  under 
the  name  of  solid.  Wherefore  he  saw  that  a 
certain  ill  fortune  rather  than  ignorance  is  to  be 
imputed  to  men,  since  they  have  been  drawn 
from  the  appointed  path  by  mischance  or  tempta 
tions,  but,  within  its  bounds,  have  not  shown 
themselves  wanting  in  energy. 

He  thought  also,  that  some  limit  must  be  set  to 
despondency,  or  at  least  to  complaint;  and  that 
it  must  rather  be  considered  whether  we  are  to 
stop  altogether,  and  use  what  we  have  already  ; 
or  to  make  trial  and  devise  something  by  which 
the  matter  may  proceed  better.  And,  first,  it  is 
right  to  mark  the  excellency  and  value  of  the  end 
and  purpose,  that  in  a  dry  matter  and  difficult  at 
tempt  there  may  be  a  greater  supply  of  industry. 
And  he  remembered  that  in  ancient  times,  the  af 
fection  and  zeal  of  men  exceeding  moderation: 
divine  honours  were  paid  to  inventors.  But  those 
who  had  deserved  well  in  civil  affairs,  as  the  foun 
ders  of  cities  and  empires,  legislators,  deliverers 


of  their  countries  from  long  standing  evils,  de- 
throners  of  tyrants,  and  the  like,  reached  not  be 
yond  the  rank  of  heroes.  Nor  has  this  distinction 
in  old  time  been  made  without  reason,  seein^  that 
the  gifts  of  the  former  fell  upon  the  whole  human 
race,  those  of  the  latter  upon  limited  districts  and 
patches  of  society :  the  former  to  pour  blessings 
on  human  life  without  violence  or  uproar,  while 
the  latter  are  not  commonly  introduced  but  with 
struggle  and  tumult.  Now  if  the  utility  of  any 
single  invention  so  moved  men,  that  they  account 
ed  more  than  man  him  who  could  include  the 
whole  human  race  in  some  solitary  benefit,  that 
invention  is  certainly  much  more  exalted,  which 
by  a  kind  of  mastery  contains  within  itself  all 
particular  inventions,  and  delivers  the  mind  from 
bondage,  and  opens  it  a  road,  that  under  sure  and 
unerring  guidance  it  may  penetrate  to  whatever 
can  be  of  novelty  and  further  advancement.  For 
as  in  the  early  ages,  when  sailors  steered  their 
course  only  by  observations  of  the  heavenly  bo 
dies,  they  coasted  along  the  shores  of  the  old  con 
tinent,  or  ventured  across  some  small  internal 
seas  :  but  it  was  necessary  that  the  use  of  the 
compass  should  be  known,  as  a  more  certain  guide 
of  the  passage,  before  the  ocean  could  be  crossed 
and  the  tracts  of  the  new  world  discovered  :  in 
like  manner,  all  that  has  been  hitherto  invented  in 
human  arts  and  sciences  might  have  been  found  out 
by  instinct,  experience,  observation,  meditation, 
being  more  obvious  to  sense  ;  but  before  we  may 
stretch  across  to  the  more  distant  and  secret 
regions  of  nature,  it  is  a  necessary  provision,  that 
some  better  and  more  perfect  application  and  ma 
nagement  of  the  human  mind  be  found  out. 
Wherefore  such  an  invention  as  this  would  be, 
without  doubt,  a  most  noble  and  truly  masculine 
offspring  of  time. 

Again,  in  the  Holy  Scripture  he  saw  that  Solo 
mon  the  king,  while  in  the  pride  of  his  power,  his 
riches,  his  magnificent  works,  his  guards,  his 
household,  his  exhct  distribution  and  arrangement 
of  slaves  and  domestics,  his  fleet  moreover,  the 
renown  of  his  name,  and  the  greatest  honour  from 
men  ;  thought  none  of  these  his  true  glory,  but 
said,  that  "the  glory  of  God  is  to  conceal  a  thing, 
but  the  glory  of  the  king  is  to  find  it  out,"  as  if 
the  Divine  nature  took  delight  in  the  innocent  and 
playful  sport  of  children,  who  hide  themselves 
that  they  may  he  found  out ;  and  from  his  indul 
gence  and  graciousness  to  men,  chose  the  human 
soul  his  playfellow.  And  the  glory  of  inventions 
is  that  they  raise  human  nature,  without  hurting 
any  one,  (as  civil  affairs  commonly  do.)  and  do 
not  press  or  sting  a  man's  conscience,  but  bestow 
on  all  rewards  and  blessings  without  the  sacrifice, 
or  injury,  or  sorrow  of  one.  For  the  nature  of 
light  is  pure  and  harmless,  it  may  be  perverted  in 
its  use,  but  not  polluted  in  itself. 

Again,  taking  note  of  the  purposes  and  ambi 
tions  of  men,  he  observed  three  kinds  of  ambition, 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


431 


if  it  be  allowed  to  give  that  name  to  one  of  them : 
the  first  is  of  those  who  struggle  fiercely  to  increase 
their  sway  in  their  own  country  ;  and  this  is  com 
mon  and  mean.  The  second  of  those  who  strive 
to  extend  the  sway  of  their  country  over  other 
nations;  which  has  doubtless  more  dignity,  but 
not  less  selfishness.  The  third  is  of  those  who 
essay  to  create  and  extend  the  sway  and  empire 
of  man  himself  or  the  human  race  over  the  uni 
verse  of  matter ;  which  is  clearly  wiser  and  no 
bler  than  the  others.  Now  the  empire  of  man 
consists  in  knowledge  alone,  for  his  power  is  what 
he  knows,  nor  can  any  force  burst  the  chain  of 
natural  causes ;  for  nature  is  only  to  be  conquered 
by  obeying. 

He  thought  also,  and  inquired  what  account 
should  be  made  of  the  value  and  efficacy  of  inven 
tions,  whether  simple  and  unmixed,  or  joined  with 
their  favours  and  benefits.  And  in  no  case  is  this 
consideration  more  plainly  suggested,  than  in 
those  three  inventions,  which  were  unknown  to 
the  ancients,  and  whose  birth  among  us  was  ob 
scure  and  noiseless ;  printing,  gunpowder,  and 
the  compass.  For  these  three,  though  a  small 
number,  and  not  remote  in  invention,  have  changed 
the  face  of  things,  and  the  condition  of  the  world  : 
the  first  in  literature,  the  second  in  war,  the  third 
in  navigation;  and  hence  have  flowed  infinite 
mutations  in  the  state  of  things,  apparent  to  care 
ful  observers ;  so  that  no  empire,  sect,  or  star, 
seems  to  have  had  a  stronger  influence,  and,  as  it 
were,  ascendant  over  human  affairs  than  those 
mechanical  works.  As  to  their  worth,  it  may  be 
best  descried  if  any  one  will  reflect  what  a  gulf 
there  is  between  man's  life  in  the  most  polished 
country  of  Europe,  and  the  rudest  and  most  sa 
vage  region  of  the  New  Indies :  so  great,  that 
man  may  fairly  be  said  to  be  a  god  to  man,  not 
only  by  reason  of  assistance  and  benefit,  but  from 
comparing  their  conditions.  And  this  is  not  the 
effect  of  soil,  or  climate,  or  constitution,  but  of 
arts.  But  the  new  world  of  science  and  the  new 
world  of  geography  do  not  agree  in  the  old  being 
more  refined  than  the  new  :  on  the  contrary,  it  is 
certain  that  the  additions  to  arts  must  show  them 
selves  greatly  superior  to  those  we  have,  so  as  not 
only  to  bend  nature  gently,  but  to  conquer  and 
enslave  it,  and  shake  it  to  its  foundation  :  for  it 
almost  always  happens  that  what  is  easy  of  dis 
covery  is  infirm  of  work  ;  since  the  roots  of  things 
of  potent  virtue  are  covered  deeply.  But  if  to  any 
one  given  to  the  love  and  worship  of  contempla 
tion,  this  frequent  and  honourable  mention  of 
•works  sounds  somewhat  harsh  and  offensive,  let 
him  be  assured  that  he  thwarts  his  natural  wishes  ; 
for  in  nature  works  are  not  only  benefits  to  life, 
but  pledges  of  truth.  And,  as  it  is  most  justly 
required  in  religion  that  a  man  should  show  his 
faith  by  works,  it  is  right  also  in  natural  philoso 
phy  that  knowledge  should  be  proved  by  its  works 
in  like  manner.  For  truth  is  rather  shown  and 


proved  by  the  evidence  of  works  than  by  argu 
ment,  or  even  sense.  Hence  there  is  one  and  the 
same  means  of  improving  man's  condition  and  his 
mind.  So  he  saw  that  what  has  been  said  of  the 
dignity  of  the  end  we  aim  at  and  design,  is  not 
strengthened,  but  really  diminished  by  words. 

He  thought  also,  that  what  has  been  said  of  the 
excellence  of  the  end  may  appear  accommodated 
to  his  wishes.  We  must,  therefore,  inquire  care 
fully  what  hopes  shines  on  us,  and  on  what  side 
it  appears  :  and  we  must  be  on  our  guard  that 
love  of  what  is  excellent  and  beautiful  do  not 
make  us  lose  or  relax  the  rigour  of  our  judgment. 
For  it  is  meet  to  bestow  on  this  matter  legal 
caution,  which  distrusts  on  principle,  and  takes 
the  least  favourable  view  of  human  concerns. 
The  lighter  whisperings  of  hope  must,  therefore, 
be  rejected,  but  those  which  seem  to  have  some 
stability,  discussed.  And  in  taking  a  view  of  his 
prospects,  it  occurred  to  him,  first,  that  what  we 
are  treating  of,  by  reason  of  the  eminent  nature 
of  good,  is  manifestly  from  God ;  and  that  in  the 
works  of  God  the  smallest  beginnings  lead  to 
their  end.  He  had  hope  also  from  the  nature  of 
time :  for  truth  is  by  universal  consent  the 
daughter  of  time.  It  is  a  mark,  therefore,  of  utter 
weakness  and  narrowness  of  mind  to  attribute 
infinite  effects  to  authors,  but  to  withhold  its  clue 
from  time,  the  author  of  authors  and  of  all  author 
ity.  Nor  had  he  hope  only  in  the  common  right 
of  time,  but  also  in  the  superiority  of  our  own 
age.  For  the  opinion  of  antiquity  which  men 
hold,  is  a  hasty  one,  and  not  even  agreeing  with 
the  name.  For  the  old  age  or  more  advanced 
period  of  the  world  is  properly  to  be  called  anti 
quity.  And,  in  truth,  as  we  expect  a  greater 
acquaintance  with  affairs  and  more  mature  judg 
ment,  in  an  old  man  than  in  a  youth,  by  reason 
of  his  experience,  and  his  having  seen  and  heard 
and  thought  more;  it  is  reasonable  that  in  like 
manner  we  should  hope  from  our  own  age  (if  it 
knew  its  own  strength,  and  would  essay  and 
apply  it)  more  than  from  former  times,  being  a 
more  advanced  age  of  the  world,  and  enriched  to 
fulness  with  numberless  experiments  and  observa 
tions.  Nor  must  we  think  it  little  that,  in  those 
distant  voyages  and  travels  which  have  been  fre 
quent  in  our  time,  much  has  been  discovered  in 
nature  which  is  capable  of  shedding  new  light 
on  philosophy.  Nay,  it  is  dishonourable  to  men, 
if  in  our  age  the  regions  of  the  material  world, 
that  is,  the  earth,  the  ocean,  and  the  heavenlv 
bodies,  are  discovered  and  displayed  to  a  vast 
extent,  but  the  boundaries  of  the  intellectual 
world  are  still  fixed  within  the  narrow  space  and 
knowledge  of  the  ancients.  Even  the  state  of 
Europe  at  present  in  a  political  respect  is  not 
averse.  England  is  raised,  France  at  peace, 
Spain  worn  out,  Italy  and  Germany  in  a  state  of 
inaction:  so  that  from  the  power  of  the  greatest 
kings  being  balanced,  and  the  conditions  of  the 


432 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


first  rate  nations  shaken,  affairs  lean  to  peace, 
which  is  like  clear  and  mild  weather  for  the 
sciences.  Nor  is  the  present  state  of  letters  itself 
unfavourable;  nay,  it  enjoys  a  certain  facility, 
both  from  the  art  of  printing,  unknown  to  ancient 
times,  by  means  of  which  the  inventions  and 
thoughts  of  individuals  glance  from  side  to  side 
like  lightning:  and  also  by  reason  of  religious 
controversies,  from  weariness  of  which  perchance 
men  have  been  able  to  turn  their  minds  more 
readily  to  the  contemplation  of  the  power,  the 
wisdom,  and  the  goodness  of  God  in  his  works. 
But,  if  any  one  is  moved  by  the  consent  and 
continuance  enjoyed  by  the  opinions  of  the 
ancients,  he  will  find,  if  he  looks  more  carefully 
into  the  matter,  very  few  leaders,  and  the  rest  fol 
lowers  only  and  a  crowd;  men,  that  is  to  say, 
who  have  stepped  from  ignorance  into  prejudice, 
and  have  never  met  in  true  consent,  which  must 
be  after  the  use  of  judgment.  And  on  proper 
reflection,  the  length  of  time  itself  shrinks  into 
a  narrow  shred.  For  of  the  five-and-twenty 
centuries  with  which  the  memory  of  man  is 
acquainted,  scarce  five  can  be  marked  out  which 
have  been  useful  and  productive  in  the  increase 
of  knowledge,  and  even  they  have  been  for  the 
most  part  planted  and  cultivated  with  other  know 
ledges,  and  not  that  of  nature.  For  there  are 
reckoned  three  periods  and  revolutions  of  opinions, 
one  with  the  Greeks,  another  with  the  Romans, 
the  last  with  the  western  nations  of  Europe;  the 
remaining  time  of  the  world  has  been  taken  up 
with  wars  and  other  pursuits,  and,  as  far  as 
regards  the  growth  of  knowledge,  is  a  barren 
wilderness. 

He  thought  thus  then  about  time.  From  the 
power  and  nature  of  chance  also  he  augured  thus. 
Chance,  indeed,  has  been,  without  doubt,  the 
author  of  many  inventions,  occasion  being  taken 
from  the  nature  of  things.  Did  then  the  Prome- 
thens  of  New  India  differ  from  the  European  in 
the  discovery  of  fire,  because  the  former  have  no 
supply  of  flints  1  In  those  things,  therefore, 
which  are  at  hand,  chance  gives  inventions  in 
plenty ;  in  those  which  are  removed  from  common 
use,  she  travails  and  brings  forth  more  sparingly, 
but  yet  in  all  ages.  For  no  cause  can  be  seen 
why  chance  should  be  thought  to  have  grown  old 
and  past  the  time  of  bearing.  He  thought,  there 
fore,  that  if  many  discoveries  chance  to  men 
without  seeking,  and  while  otherwise  employed, 
no  one  can  doubt  that  if  the  same  men  were  to 
search,  and  by  rule  and  order,  not  by  fits  and 
starts,  many  more  things  must  be  discovered. 
For,  though  it  may  happen  in  one  or  two  cases 
that  some  one  may  by  chance  hit  upon  what  has 
escaped  him  before  when  straining  all  his  powers 
in  the  inquiry,  yet,  without  doubt,  the  contrary 
will  appear  in  the  long  run.  For  chance  works 
thinly,  and  slowly,  and  irregularly;  but  art  con 
stantly,  and  rapidly,  and  connectedly.  From 


those  inventions  also,  which  are  already  brought 
to  light,  he  thought  it  might  be  truly  conjectured 
about  those  which  are  yet  hidden.  But  some  of 
them  are  of  that  kind  that,  before  their  discovery, 
surmises  of  them  would  not  readily  come  into  any 
one's  mind.  For,  men  commonly  guess  at  new 
things  by  a  likeness  to  old  ones,  and  by  ideas 
learned  of  them,  which  is  a  very  vain  way  of 
thinking,  since  those  things  that  are  sought  from 
the  fountain-head  do  not  flow  through  the  common 
channels.  Thus,  if  some  one,  before  the  invention 
of  firearms,  had  described  them  by  their  effects, 
and  had  said  that  a  discovery  was  just  made  by 
means  of  which  walls  and  the  strongest  fortifica 
tions  might  be  battered  and  beaten  down  from  a 
great  distance,  men  would  certainly  reason  much 
and  variously  about  multiplying  the  powers  of 
casting  engines  and  machinery,  by  weights, 
wheels,  and  the  like;  but  the  idea  of  a  fiery  wind 
could  scarcely  occur,  as  what  they  had  never  seen 
an  instance  of,  except  perchance  in  an  earthquake 
or  thunderstorm,  which  they  had  neglected,  as  not 
imitable.  In  like  manner  if,  before  the  invention 
of  silken  thread,  some  one  had  spoken  thus  :  that 
there  was  a  certain  kind  of  thread  useful  for  dress 
and  furniture,  which  much  excelled  linen  and 
woollen  thread  in  fineness,  and,  notwithstanding, 
strength,  arid  moreover  gloss  and  softness;  men 
would  immediately  begin  to  think  of  some  vegeta 
ble  silk,  or  the  delicate  part  of  some  animal's  hair, 
or  the  feathers  and  down  of  birds,  but  would  never 
guess  the  fabric  of  a  worm,  and  that  too  in  such 
plenty  and  every  year.  And  if  any  one  had  dropped 
a  hint  about  worms,  he  would  certainly  have  been 
ridiculed  for  dreaming  of  some  new  works  of 
spiders.  And  hence,  for  the  most  part,  those 
things  which  are  still  hidden  in  the  womb  of 
nature  have  this  same  property,  that  they  escape 
and  elude  the  imaginations  and  reasoning  of  men. 
So  he  thought,  if  it  check  any  one's  hope  of  new 
inventions,  that,  by  inference  from  those  before 
us,  he  counts  them  either  impossible  or  unlikely, 
he  should  know  that  he  is  not  competent,  even  to 
wish  fitly  and  usefully. 

But  again  he  thought  that  there  are  other  things 
among  those  discovered  of  a  different  and  almost 
contrary  nature,  which  lead  us  to  think  that  man 
kind  may  pass  by  and  neglect  great  inventions 
lying  close  at  their  feet.  For  although  the  inven 
tion  of  gunpowder,  and  silk,  and  the  compass,  and 
sugar,  and  the  like,  seem  to  depend  upon  certain 
properties  of  matter  and  nature ;  the  art  of  printing 
has  certainly  nothing  which  was  not  plain,  and 
almost  obvious,  and  gathered  from  what  was  al 
ready  known.  But  in  this  race  of  invention  the 
human  mind  is  commonly  so  unlucky  and  awk 
ward,  that  in  some  things  it  first  despairs,  and 
shortly  after  despises  itself;  and  at  first  it  seems 
incredible  that  any  such  thing  could  be  invented, 
but  after  it  is  invented,  again  it  appears  incredible 
that  it  could  have  escaped  men  so  long.  And  this 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


433 


leads  him  to  hope  that  there  yet  remains  a  great 
mass  of  inventions  which  might  be  gained,  not 
only  from  uncovering  new  properties,  but  also 
from  transferring  and  applying  those  already 
known. 

He  accepted  also  as  happy  omens  what  he  ob 
served  in  the  mechanical  arts  and  their  success, 
especially  when  compared  with  philosophy.  For 
the  mechanical  arts,  as  if  enjoying  a  certain  vital 
air,  grow  and  perfect  themselves  daily ;  while 
philosophy,  like  a  statue,  is  adored  and  celebrated, 
but  moves  not.  The  former  also  are  seen  rude, 
and  commonly  without  proportion  and  cumbrous 
in  the  hands  of  their  first  authors  ;  but  afterwards 
get  new  strength  and  aptness.  The  latter  is  in 
its  greatest  vigour  with  its  first  author,  and  after 
wards  declines.  And  the  real  cause  of  this  dif 
ferent  success  is  that,  in  the  mechanical  arts,  the 
wits  of  many  meet  together  in  one ;  but  in  philo 
sophy  the  wits  of  all  are  spoiled  by  one.  For 
after  they  have  surrendered  themselves  they  give 
no  increase,  but  are  employed  in  the  servile  office 
of  dressing  and  attending  one.  Wherefore  every 
philosophy,  torn  up  from  the  roots  of  experience, 
from  which  it  first  sprung  and  grew,  becomes 
dead  matter.  And,  roused  by  this  thought,  he  ob 
served  also,  that  the  means  of  arts  and  sciences 
are,  by  universal  consent,  empirical  or  rational, 
that  is,  philosophical ;  but  he  has  not  yet  seen 
these  well  put  together  and  united-.  For  the  em 
pirical,  like  the  ant,  only  collects  and  uses  ;  the 
rational,  like  the  spider,  spins  from  itself.  But 
the  practice  of  the  bee  is  midway,  which  draws 
materials  from  the  flowers  of  both  garden  and 
field,  but  transmutes  and  digests  them  by  a  faculty 
of  its  own.  Nor  is  the  work  of  true  philosophy 
different,  which  stores  up  the  matter  supplied  by 
natural  history  and  mechanical  experiments,  not 
raw  in  the  memory,  but  changed  and  prepared  in 
the  understanding.  And  he  is  aware  that  there 
are  some  of  the  empirical  who  wish  not  to  be  held 
as  merely  empirical,  and  of  the  reasoners  who  aim 
at  seeming  industrious  and  plain  in  practice.  But 
these  have  been  and  are  the  artifices  of  a  few, 
aiming  at  the  character  of  each  excelling  in  his 
own  sect ;  though,  in  reality,  there  has  always 
been  a  division  and  almost  antipathy  between 
these  faculties.  So  he  thought  there  was  hope 
of  excellent  effects  from  a  close  and  confirmed 
union  of  them. 

He  saw  also  with  pleasure  that  he  found  an 
infinite  expense  of  wit,  time,  and  means,  which 
men  employ  in  matters  and  pursuits  that,  rightly 
considered,  are  useless;  while  if  a  small  part  of 
them  were  turned  to  what  is  sound  and  useful,  it 
might  conquer  every  difficulty.  Nor  is  there  any 
reason  to  fear  the  multitude  of  particulars,  since 
the  phenomena  of  the  arts  are  but  a  handful  to  the 
reasonings  of  the  mind  when  disunited  and  dis 
tracted  from  the  evidence  of  things.  Now,  all  this 
that  has  been  said  has  its  effect  in  producing 

VOL.  I.—55 


hope  ;  but,  above  all,  the  most  certain  hope  is 
from  the  errors  of  the  time  past.  And  (as  some 
one  said  of  the  maladministration  of  civil  govern 
ment)  that  may  be  the  best  for  the  future,  which 
is  the  worst  on  looking  to  the  past;  for  if  such 
errors  cease,  (and  giving  warning  is  the  first  step 
towards  it,)  there  would  be  a  very  great  change  in 
things.  But  if  men  had  passed  through  the  course 
of  so  many  years,  without  being  able  to  make  any 
progress,  no  hope  could  remain.  For  then  it 
would  be  clear  that  the  difficulty  was  in  the  mat 
ter  and  subject,  (which  are  out  of  our  power,)  not  in 
the  instrument,  (which  is  within  it,)  that  is,  in  the 
things  and  their  obscurity,  not  in  the  human  mind 
and  its  working.  But  now  it  appears  that  the 
way  is  not  stopped  up  by  any  block  or  barrier,  but 
turns  from  the  path  of  men  :  it  does,  therefore, 
cause  in  some  measure  the  fear  of  solitude,  but 
threatens  nothing  more.  In  fine,  he  determined 
that,  if  even  a  much  weaker  and  less  sensible  air 
breathed  from  that  new  continent,  it  should  yet  be 
attempted.  For  there  is  not  the  same  danger  in 
not  trying  a  thing  and  not  succeeding  in  it ;  since, 
in  the  former  case,  the  loss  of  a  great  benefit,  in 
the  latter,  of  a  little  human  labour  is  concerned. 
In  truth,  both  from  what  has  and  has  not  been 
said,  he  saw  well  that  there  was  sufficient  hope, 
not  only  for  a  diligent  man  to  make  trial,  but  also 
for  a  prudent  and  sober  one  to  give  credit. 

He  thought  also,  that,  when  the  desire  is  kin 
dled,  and  the  hope  formed,  we  must  look  to  the 
means  of  performance.  This  is  then  what  appeared 
to  him  generally  in  that  matter ;  and  he  thought 
fit  to  enclose  and  embrace  it  in  naked  and  open 
sentences. 

He  saw  that  things  must  be  done  entirely  other 
wise  than  they  are  now  ;  and  therefore  that  the 
disproving  of  the  past  is  a  kind  of  oracle  for  what 
is  to  come. 

He  thought  that  theories,  and  opinions,  and 
common  notions,  as  far  as  can  be  obtained  from 
the  stiffness  and  firmness  of  the  mind,  should  be 
entirely  done  away  with  ;  and  that  the  understand 
ing  should  begin  anew  plainly  and  fairly  with 
particulars  ;  since  there  is  no  other  entrance  open 
to  the  kingdom  of  nature  than  to  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  into  which  no  one  may  enter  except  in  the 
form  of  a  little  child. 

He  thought  that  a  body  and  mass  of  particulars, 
both  from  their  number,  kind,  and  certainty  or 
subtility  sufficient  for  information,  might  be  col 
lected  and  stored  up,  both  from  natural  history 
and  mechanical  experiments,  the  latter  especially, 
because  nature  displays  herself  more  fully  when 
she  is  held  and  pressed  by  art  than  at  her  own 
liberty.  He  thought  that  this  mass  should  be  re 
duced  and  digested  into  tables  and  regular  order, 
that  the  understanding  may  be  able  to  act  upon  it 
and  perform  its  office ;  since  even  the  divine  word 
did  not  work  upon  a  mass  of  things  without  order. 

He  thought  that  we  must  not  suddenly  pat  3 
20 


434 


INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 


from  the  particulars  digested  into  tables,  to  the 
inquisition  after  new  particulars,  (which  is  never 
theless  itself  a  useful  thing,  and  like  a  kind  of 
learned  experience,)  but  that  we  should  first  pro 
ceed  to  general  and  large  comprehensions,  and  so 
fc.r  indulge  the  natural  bent  of  the  understanding. 
But  at  the  same  time  he  saw  that  the  natural  but 
v'r.jus  motion  and  impulse  of  the  mind  to  jump 
from  particulars  to  high  and  general  comprehen 
sions,  (such  as  what  are  called  the  first  principles 
of  ans  and  things,)  and  to  get  at  the  rest  by  de 
scending  through  the  middle  ones,  must  be  alto 
gether  checked  ;  but  the  nearest  comprehensions 
must  be  first  drawn  out  and  discovered,  and  then 
the  middle  ones,  and  we  must  climb  the  true  lad 
der  by  repeated  steps.  For  the  paths  of  thought 
and  understanding  almost  agree  with  that  twofold 
way  in  morals,  sung  by  the  ancients  ;  for  one 
road,  smooth  at  the  entrance,  leads  to  pathless 
wilds,  the  other,  steep  and  difficult  at  first,  ends 
in  level  road. 

He  thought  that  such  a  form  of  induction 
should  be  introduced  as  should  conclude  gene 
rally  from  certain  instances,  so  that  it  can  be 
proved  that  there  cannot  be  found  a  contradictory 
instance,  lest  by  chance  we  pronounce  from 
fewer  than  are  adequate,  and  from  those  which 
are  at  our  feet ;  and  (as  one  of  the  ancients  said) 
seek  knowledge  in  our  private  worlds,  and  not  in 
the  public  one.  He  saw  that  that  comprehension 
only  should  be  approved  of  and  received,  which 
was  not  made  and  fitted  to  the  measure  of  the 
particulars  from  which  it  was  derived,  but 
which  was  rather  more  ample  and  lax,  and  sup 
ported  its  amplitude  and  laxity  by  the  designation 
of  new  particulars,  as  a  sort  of  suretiship,  lest 
we  should  stop  at  what  is  already  known,  or 
perchance  in  too  wide  an  embrace  catch  shadows 
and  abstract  forms.  He  saw  that  many  things 
besides  these  should  be  invented  to  work  notably, 
not  so  much  to  the  perfecting  of  the  matter,  as  to 
the  shortening  of  the  labour,  and  to  the  speeding 
of  men's  harvest  from  it.  And  whether  all  this 
be  rightly  thought  or  otherwise,  we  must,  if 
need  be,  appeal  from  the  opinions,  and  stand  by 
the  effects. 

He  thought,  also,  that  what  he  is  treating  of  is 
rather  performance  than  opinion,  and  that  it  lays 
the  foundations,  not  of  any  sect  or  school,  but  of 
immense  utility  and  enlargement.  \Vherefore 
thought  must  be  taken  not  only  about  accomplish 
ing  the  matter,  but  about  communicating  and 
transmitting  it,  which  is  of  equal  consequence. 
But  he  found  that  men  minister  to  their  love  of 
fame  and  pomp  by  sometimes  publishing,  some 
times  concealing  the  knowledge  of  things  which 
they  think  they  have  got;  and  that  they  who 
propose  what  is  least  solid  are,  more  than  others, 
used  to  barter  what  they  offer  in  an  obscure  and 
doubtful  light,  that  they  may  more  easily  swell 
the  sails  of  their  vanity.  But  he  thought  that  he 


was  handling  a  subject  which  it  were  unbecom 
ing  to  defile  with  any  ambition  or  affectation; 
but  yet  that  he  must  needs  descend  to  the  recol 
lection,  (unless  indeed  he  were  very  inexperienced 
in  affairs  and  minds,  and  would  begin  his  journey 
without  any  search,)  that  inveterate  errors,  like 
the  ravings  of  the  lunatic,  must  be  subdued  by 
art  and  contrivance,  and  are  aggravated  by  vio 
lence  and  opposition.  We  must,  therefore,  use 
prudence,  and  humour  them,  (as  far  as  we  can 
with  simplicity  and  candour,)  that  contradictions 
may  be  extinguished  before  they  are  inflamed. 
For  this  object  he  is  preparing  a  work  on  nature, 
which  may  destroy  errors  with  the  least  harsh 
ness,  and  enter  the  senses  of  mankind  without 
violence;  which  would  be  easier  from  his  not 
bearing  himself  as  a  leader,  but  bringing  and 
scattering  light  from  nature  herself,  so  that  there 
may  be  no  future  need  of  a  leader.  But  as  time 
meanwhile  glides  away,  and  he  has  been  more 
engaged  in  business  than  he  wished  ;  it  seems  a 
long  work;  especially  when  he  considers  the 
uncertainty  of  life,  and  pants  to  lay  up  something 
in  safety.  It  therefore  seemed  to  him  that  some 
thing  simpler  might  be  proposed  which,  though 
not  uttered  to  the  many,  might  perchance  at 
least  be  sufficient  to  preserve  so  salutary  a  matter 
from  abortion.  And  after  considering  the  matter, 
and  weighing  it  long  and  attentively,  it  seemed 
to  him  the  best  way  that  tables  of  invention,  or 
formulae  of  just  inquisition,  that  is,  a  mass  of 
particulars,  arranged  for  the  work  of  the  under 
standing,  should  be  offered  in  some  subjects,  by 
way  of  an  exemplar  and  almost  visible  descrip 
tion  of  the  work.  For  nothing  can  be  found  to 
place  in  a  clearer  light  the  right  road  or  the  wan 
derings  of  error ;  or  show  more  plainly  that 
what  is  offered  is  but  words :  nor  which  would 
be  more  carefully  avoided  by  the  man  who  either 
mistrusted  his  scheme,  or  desired  it  to  be  caught 
at  and  celebrated  above  its  deserts.  But,  if  it  is 
not  allowed  him  to  complete  his  designs,  as  there 
are  nevertheless  human  minds  of  a  strong  and 
lofty  character,  it  may  be  that,  even  without  more 
assistance,  taking  the  hint  from  what  is  offered, 
they  may  be  able  to  look  for  and  master  the  rest 
of  themselves.  For  he  is  almost  of  opinion  (as 
some  one  said)  that  this  will  be  enough  for  the 
wise,  though  even  more  would  not  be  for  the 
dull.  But  he  saw  that  it  would  be  too  abrupt  to- 
begin  his  teaching  with  the  tables  themselves; 
and,  therefore,  that  he  should  say  something  suit 
able  by  way  of  preface,  which  he  thinks  he  has 
now  done,  and  that  all  which  has  been  hitherto 
said  leads  only  thither.  Lastly,  he  saw  that,  if 
any  good  be  found  in  what  has  been  or  shall  be 
said,  it  should  be  dedicated  as  the  fat  of  the  sa 
crifice  to  God,  and  to  men  in  God's  similitude, 
who  procure  the  good  of  mankind  by  true  affec 
tion  and  benevolence. 

G.  W. 


OF  THE 

PRINCIPLES    AND    ORIGINS   OF   NATURE, 

ACCORDING  TO  THE  FABLES  OF  CUPID  AND  HEAVEN: 


PHILOSOPHY    OF    PARMENIDES,   TELESIUS,    AND   PARTICULARLY    OF   DEMOCRITUS, 
AS  EXHIBITED  IN  THE  FABLE  CONCERNING  CUPID. 


THE  fables  of  the  ancients  repeating  Cupid  or 
Love,  cannot  be  made  to  agree  in  one  and  the 
same  person.  They  indeed  profess  to  speak  of 
two  Cupids  of  two  different  periods,  the  one  the 
most  ancient  of  the  gods,  the  other  of  a  much 
later  era.  At  present  we  will  treat  of  the  ancient 
Cupid.  They  relate  that  this  Cupid  was  the 
most  ancient  of  the  gods,  and  therefore  of  all 
things,  excepting  chaos,  which  is  said  to  have 
been  coeval  with  him.  This  Cupid  had  no  pa 
rent,  but  being  united  to  heaven,  was  the  father 
of  the  gods  and  of  all  things.  Some  indeed 
would  derive  him  from  an  egg  over  which  Night 
brooded.  Different  atttributes  are  ascribed  to 
him,  so  that  he  is  represented  as  a  boy  blind, 
naked,  winged,  and  armed  with  darts.  His 
chief  and  especial  influence  is  over  the  uniting 
of  bodies.  To  him  were  given  the  keys  of  the 
earth,  the  sea,  and  the  sky.  Another  and  younger 
Cupid  is  also  celebrated  in  fable,  the  son  of  Ve 
nus.  To  him  are  ascribed  the  attributes  of  the 
ancient  Cupid,  besides  many  peculiar  to  himself. 
This  fable,  with  the  sequel  respecting  heaven, 
seems  to  embrace  in  a  concise  parable  the  doc 
trine  of  the  elements  of  things  and  of  the  origin 
of  the  world,  and  to  agree  with  that  of  Demo- 
critus,  except  that  it  appears  somewhat  closer, 
more  reasonable,  and  clearer.  For  the  observa 
tions  of  that  confessedly  acute  and  accurate 
philosopher  nevertheless  were  of  a  too  diffusive 
nature,  and  did  not  seem  to  keep  their  proper 
limit,  and  to  confine  and  support  themselves  suffi 
ciently.  And  indeed  these  dogmas,  which  lie 
veiled  in  the  parable,  although  better  regulated, 
are  yet  of  such  a  nature  as  to  appear  to  have  come 
from  the  mind  left  to  itself,  and  not  uniformly 
and  gradually  assisted  by  experience;  for  this 
seems  to  have  been  the  common  fault  of  antiqui 
ty.  But  it  must  first  be  remarked,  that  the  opi 
nions  brought  forward  in  this  part  of  my  treatise 
were  the  conclusions  and  productions  of  unassist 
ed  reason,  and  rested  on  perception  alone,  the 
failing  and  imperfect  oracles  of  which  are  de 
servedly  rejected,  now  that  the  higher  and  more 


certain  light  of  the  Divine  Word  has  shone 
upon  men.  That  chaos  therefore  which  was 
coeval  with  Cupid,  signified  the  confused  and 
disordered  mass  or  collection  of  matter.  But 
matter  itself,  with  its  power  and  nature,  in  a 
word,  the  elements  of  things  were  shadowed  out 
in  Cupid  himself.  He  is  introduced  without  a 
parent,  that  is,  without  a  cause :  for  cause  is,  as 
it  were,  the  parent  of  effect;  and  in  tropical  dis 
course  nothing  is  therefore  more  usual  than  for 
the  parent  to  stand  for  cause,  and  the  offspring 
for  effect.  But  there  cannot  be  in  nature  (for  we 
always  except  God)  any  cause  of  the  first  mat 
ter,  and  of  its  proper  influence  and  action,  for 
there  is  nothing  prior  in  time  to  the  first  matter. 
Therefore  there  is  no  efficient  nor  any  thing  more 
known  to  nature;  there  is  therefore  neither  genus 
nor  form.  Wherefore  whatever  primitive  matter 
is,  together  with  its  influence  and  action,  it  is  sui 
generis,  and  admits  of  no  definition  drawn  from 
perception,  and  is  to  be  taken  just  as  it  is  found, 
and  not  to  be  judged  of  from  any  preconceived 
idea.  For  the  mode  of  it,  if  it  is  given  to  us  to 
know  it,  cannot  be  judged  of  by  means  of  its 
cause,  seeing  that  it  is,  next  to  God,  the  cause  of 
causes,  itself  without  a  cause.  For  there  is  a 
certain  real  limit  of  causes  in  nature,  and  it 
would  argue  levity  and  inexperience  in  a  philoso 
pher  to  require  or  imagine  a  cause  for  the  last 
and  positive  power  and  law  of  nature,  as  much 
as  it  would  not  to  demand  a  cause  in  those  that 
are  subordinate. 

On  this  account  the  ancients  have  fabled  Cupid 
to  be  without  a  parent,  that  is,  without  a  cause. 
And  they  did  so  not  without  design.  Nay,  per 
haps  there  is  not  any  thing  more  important;  for 
nothing  has  more  corrupted  philosophy  than  the 
seeking  after  the  parents  of  Cupid  ;  I  mean,  that 
philosophers  have  not  received  and  embraced  the 
elements  of  things  as  they  are  found  in  nature,  as 
a  certain  fixed  and  positive  doctrine,  and  as  it 
were  by  an  experimental  trust  in  them  ;  but  have 
rather  deduced  them  from  the  laws  of  words,  and 
from  dialectics  and  slight  mathematical  concln- 

435 


436 


FABLE  OF  CUriD. 


sions  and  common  notions,  and  similar  wander 
ings  of  the  mind  beyond  the  bounds  of  nature. 
This,  therefore,  must  be  constantly  in  the  philoso 
pher's  thoughts,  that  Cupid  is  without  parents, 
lest  perchance  his  understanding  turn  aside  to 
empty  questions;  because  in  universal  percep 
tions  of  this  kind  the  human  mind  becomes  dif 
fusive,  and  departs  from  the  right  use  of  itself 
and  of  its  objects,  and,  whilst  it  tends  toward 
things  more  distant,  falls  back  upon  those  that 
are  nearer.  For  when,  through  its  own  limited 
capacity,  it  is  accustomed  to  be  most  affected  by 
those  things  which  occur  familiarly  to  it,  and 
which  can  enter  and  strike  the  mind  suddenly  ;  it 
comes  to  pass  that  when  it  stretches  itself  toward 
those  things  which,  according  to  experience,  are 
for  the  most  part  universal,  and,  nevertheless,  is 
unwilling  to  rest  satisfied,  then,  as  if  desirous  of 
something  more  within  the  reach  of  its  know 
ledge, it  turns  itself  to  those  things  which  havernost 
effected  or  allured  it,  and  imagines  them  to  be  more 
causative  and  palpable  than  those  universals. 
Therefore,  it  has  been  now  laid  down  that  the  first 
essence  of  things,  or  Cupid,  is  without  a  cause. 

We  have  now  to  inquire  into  the  mode  of  this 
thing  which  is  uncaused ;  and  the  mode  of  it  is 
likewise  very  obscure,  which  indeed  the  fable 
elegantly  hints  in  Cupid  being  hatched  beneath 
the  brooding  wing  of  night.  So  at  least  the  in 
spired  philosopher  saith,  "  God  hath  made  all 
things  beautiful  in  their  seasons  :  He  hath  also 
set  the  world  in  their  heart,  yet  so  that  no  man 
can  find  out  the  work  that  God  maketh  from  the 
beginning  unto  the  end."  For  the  great  law  of 
essence  and  nature  which  cuts  and  runs  through 
the  vicissitudes  of  things,  (which  law  seems  to  be 
described  in  the  compass  of  the  words,  "  the  work 
which  God  wrought  from  the  beginning  even  to 
the  end,")  the  power  lodged  by  God  in  the  primi 
tive  particles,  from  the  multiplication  of  which, 
the  whole  variety  of  things  might  spring  forth  and 
be  composed,  may  indeed  just  strike,  but  cannot 
enter  deeply  the  mind  of  man.  But,  that  saying 
concerning  the  egg  of  night,  is  very  aptly  referred 
to  those  proofs  by  means  of  which  our  Cupid  is 
brought  to  light.  For  those  proofs  which  are 
concluded  by  means  of  affirmatives,  seem  to  be 
the  offspring  of  light;  those  which  are  concluded 
by  means  of  negatives  and  exclusions,  may  be 
called  the  offspring  of  darkness  and  night:  and 
Cupid  is  in  truth  the  egg  sprung  from  night;  for 
all  the  knowledge  we  can  gather  respecting  him 
comes  by  the  way  of  negatives  and  exclusions. 
But  a  proof  gathered  by  exclusions  has  still  some 
degree  of  ignorance  in  it,  and  is  a  kind  of  night 
as  to  that  which  is  included  in  it :  whence  Demo- 
critus  admirably  remarked,  that  the  atoms  or 
seeds  and  their  properties  were  like  nothing  that 
falls  under  the  observation  of  sense,  and  held 
them  to  be  of  a  dark  and  secret  nature.  He  there 
fore  pronounced  of  them,  "  They  are  neither  like 


fire,  nor  any  other  thing,  the  body  of  which  is 
perceptible  by  sense,  or  open  to  the  touch."  And 
again  he  says  of  their  nature,  "but  it  is  requisite 
the  elements  in  the  work  of  creation,  should  put 
forth  a  secret  and  dark  nature,  lest  any  contrarious 
and  opposing  principle  arise."  Therefore  atoms 
are  neither  like  sparks  of  fire,  nor  drops  of  water, 
nor  bubbles  of  air,  nor  grains  of  sand,  nor  the 
minute  particles  of  spirit  or  ether.  Nor,  is  the 
power  and  form  of  them  a  something  heavy  or 
light,  or  hot  or  cold,  or  dense  or  rare,  or  hard  or 
soft,  as  are  found  in  larger  bodies,  since  those 
powers,  and  the  rest  of  that  order,  are  compounded 
and  WTought  together.  And,  in  like  manner,  the 
natural  motion  of  an  atom  is  neither  that  motion 
of  descent  which  is  called  natural,  nor  a  motion 
opposed  to  that  force,  nor  a  motion  of  expansion 
and  contraction,  nor  of  impulsion  and  connexion, 
nor  the  rotatory  motion  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
nor  any  other  of  the  greater  motions  simply.  But, 
notwithstanding  this,  in  the  body  of  an  atom  are 
the  elements  of  all  bodies,  and  in  the  nature  of  an 
atom  the  beginning  of  all  motions  and  natural 
properties.  But,  yet,  in  this  very  point,  namely, 
the  motion  of  an  atom  as  compared  with  the 
motion  of  greater  substances,  the  philosophy  of 
the  parable  appears  to  differ  from  that  of  Demo- 
critus.  For  he  is  not  only  opposed  to  the  parable, 
but  inconsistent,  if  not  contradictory  in  his  more 
copious  assertions  on  this  head.  For  he  should 
have  ascribed  a  heterogeneous  motion  to  an 
atom  not  less  than  a  heterogeneous  body  and 
power.  But,  he  out  of  the  motions  of  greater 
substances,  has  chosen  two,  to  ascribe  them  as 
primitive  motions  to  atoms,  namely,  the  descent 
of  heavy  and  the  ascent  of  light  bodies,  (which  he 
explained  by  the  striking  or  the  percussion  of  the 
more  heavy,  in  forcing  upwards  the  less  heavy 
bodies.)  But  the  parable  all  along  preserves  the 
heterogeneous  and  exclusive  nature  it  ascribes  to 
atoms,  as  well  in  speaking  of  its  motion  as  of  its 
substance.  But  the  parable  further  intimates, 
that  this  exclusion  has  its  limit,  for  night  does 
not  brood  over  the  egg-  forever :  and  it  is  certainly 
proper  to  the  Deity,  that  in  our  inquiry  into  his 
nature  by  means  of  the  senses,  exclusions  should 
not  terminate  in  affirmatives.  And  there  is  another 
reason  for  this,  namely,  that  after  the  due  exclu 
sions  and  negations,  something  should  be  affirmed 
and  settled,  and  that  the  egg  should  be  produced 
as  it  were  by  a  seasonable  and  mature  incubation  ; 
not  only  that  the  egg  should  be  brought  forth  by 
night,  but  also  that  the  person  of  Cupid  should  be 
delivered  of  the  egg:  that  is,  that  not  only  should 
an  obscure  notion  upon  this  subject  be  originated, 
but  one  that  is  distinct.  Thus  much  upon  demon 
strations,  as  far  as  they  can  be  given,  upon  the 
first  matter,  and  I  think  in  accordance  with  the 
parable. 

We  come  now  to  Cupid  himself,  the  primitive 
matter  and  its  properties,  involved  in  so  great 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


437 


darkness  ;  and  let  us  see  what  light  the  parable 
can  throw  upon  it.  And  here  I  am  aware  that 
opinions  of  this  sort  the  most  incredible  have 
entered  men's  mind.  Certainly  was  this  danger 
incurred  here  by  the  philosophy  of  Democritus 
itself  upon  atoms,  which,  from  its  seeming  acute- 
ness  and  profundity,  and  for  its  remoteness  from 
common  notions,  was  childishly  entertained  by 
the  vulgar,  but  unsettled,  and  nearly  overthrown 
by  the  arguments  of  other  philosophies  which 
came  nearer  to  the  vulgar  comprehension :  and  yet 
he  was  the  admiration  of  his  age,  and  was  styled 
Pentathlus  for  his  multifarious  erudition,  and  was 
deemed  by  universal  consent  the  greatest  of 
natural  philosophers,  and  obtained  the  name  of  a 
wise  man.  Nor  could  even  the  opposition  of 
Aristotle  (who,  like  the  Ottomans,  could  not  feel 
firm  upon  his  throne  until  he  had  murdered  his 
brother  philosophers;  and  who  was  solicitous,  as 
appears  from  his  own  words,  that  posterity  should 
not  doubt  his  dogmas)  effect  by  his  violence,  nor 
the  majesty  of  Plato  effect  by  reverence  the  demo 
lition  of  this  philosophy  of  Democritus.  But 
whilst  the  dicta  of  Aristotle  and  Plato  were  cele 
brated  with  applause  and  professorial  ostentation 
in  the  schools,  the  philosophy  of  Democritus  was 
in  great  repute  amongst  the  wiser  sort,  and  those 
who  more  closely  gave  themselves  to  the  depths 
and  silence  of  contemplation.  It  kept  its  ground 
and  was  approved  in  the  era  of  Roman  letters ; 
for  Cicero  everywhere  makes  mention  of  him 
with  perfect  approbation  ;  and  soon  after  we  read 
the  panegyric  of  the  poet,  who  appears  to  echo 
after  the  manner  of  the  poets  the  sentiment  of  his 
times,  whose  wisdom  shows  that  in  a  land  of 
dulness  and  beneath  a  Boeotian  sky,  the  greatest 
and  the  most  illustrious  men  can  spring  up. 
(Juv.  Sat.  10,  v.  48.) 

Neither  Aristotle,  therefore,  nor  Plato,  but 
Genseric,  Attila,  and  the  barbarians  were  the 
ruin  of  this  philosophy.  For,  then,  after  that 
human  learning  had  suffered  shipwreck,  those 
records  of  the  Aristotelian  and  Platonic  philo 
sophy,  as  being  lighter  and  more  inflated  matter, 
were  preserved  and  came  down  to  our  times, 
whilst  the  more  solid  sank  and  went  into  oblivion. 
I  cannot  but  consider,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
philosophy  of  Democritus  worthy  of  being  rescued 
from  neglect,  especially  since  it  agrees  in  most 
things  with  the  authority  of  antiquity.  In  the 
first  place,  then,  Cupid  is  described  as  a  certain 
person,  and  to  him  are  attributed  infancy,  wings, 
arrows,  and  other  attributes,  concerning  which 
we  will  afterward  speak  separately.  But  this 
we  assume  in  the  mean  while,  that  the  ancients 
laid  down  the  primitive  matter  (such  as  can  be 
the  origin  of  things)  with  a  form  and  properties, 
not  abstract,  potential,  and  informal.  And  cer 
tainly  that  matter  which  is  stripped  and  passive 
seems  altogether  an  invention  of  the  human  mind, 
and  to  have  sprang  thence,  for  those  things  are 


mostly  present  to  the  human  understanding  which 
it  most  imbibes,  and  with  which  itself  is  most 
moved.  Hence  it  is  that  forms,  as  they  are  called, 
seem  to  exist  more  than  either  matter  or  action, 
because  the  one  is  hid,  the  other  glides  before  us ; 
the  one  is  not  so  strongly  impressed,  the  other 
constantly  inheres.  But  forms,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  deemed  evident  and  lasting,  so  that  the  primi 
tive  and  common  matter  seems  as  it  were  an 
accessory,  and  to  be  in  the  place  of  a  support  to 
them;  but  every  sort  of  action  only  an  emanation 
from  the  form,  and  forms,  therefore,  to  be  in  every 
respect  worthy  of  the  higher  rank.  And  hence, 
also,  seems  to  be  derived  the  kingdom  of  forms 
and  ideas  in  essences,  by  the  addition  of  a  kind 
of  fantastic  matter.  Some  things  moreover  have 
grown  out  of  this  superstition ;  (from  want  of 
judgment  having,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
followed  this  error;)  abstract  ideas  and  their  powers 
have  been  introduced  with  such  confidence  and 
authority,  that  this  troop  of  dreamers  had  nearly 
overpowered  the  more  sober  class  of  thinkers. 
But  these  follies  have  for  the  most  part  disap 
peared,  although  one  person  in  our  age,  with  more 
daring  than  advantage,  made  it  his  endeavour  to 
raise  and  prop  them  up  when  they  were  of  them 
selves  on  the  decline.  I  think,  however,  that  it 
can  to  an  unprejudiced  person  be  easily  shown 
how,  contrary  to  reason,  abstract  matter  was  made 
into  an  element.  It  arose  thus  ;  men  supposed 
that  forms  endued  with  action  subsisted  by  them 
selves,  but  none  thought  that  matter  thus  subsisted 
by  itself;  not  even  those  who  considered  it  an 
element ;  and  it  seemed  unreasonable  and  contrary 
to  the  nature  of  an  inquiry  upon  the  elements  of 
things  to  make  entities  out  of  mere  imaginations. 
And  it  is  not  our  object  to  search  how  we  can 
most  conveniently  conceive  of  the  'nature  of  en 
tities  or  distinguish  them,  but  what  are  in  truth 
the  first  and  simplest  possible  of  all  entities,  from 
which  all  others  are  derived.  But  the  first  ones 
ought  no  less  to  possess  a  real  existence  than 
those  which  flow  from  it ;  rather  more.  For  it 
has  its  own  peculiar  essence,  and  from  it  come  all 
the  rest.  But  the  assertions  that  have  been  made 
respecting  abstract  matter  are  as  absurd  as  it 
would  be  to  say  that  the  universe  and  nature  were 
made  out  of  categories  and  such  dialectic  notions, 
as  out  of  elements.  For  the  difference  is  by  no 
means  important  between  asserting  that  the  world 
sprang  from  matter  and  form  and  privation,  and 
asserting  that  it  arose  out  of  substance  and  the 
contrary  qualities.  But  almost  all  the  ancients, 
Empedocles,  Anaxagoras,  Anaximenes,  Heracli- 
tus,  Democritus,  though  disagreeing  in  other 
respects  upon  the  prime  matter,  joined  in  this, 
that  they  held  an  active  matter  with  a  form,  both 
arranging  its  own  form  and  having  within  itself 
the  principle  of  motion.  Nor  can  any  one  think 
otherwise  without  leaving  experience  altogether. 
All  these,  then,  submitted  their  mind  to  nature. 
2o  2 


438 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


But  Plato  subjected  the  world  to  his  contempla 
tions,  and  Aristotle  his  contemplations  to  terms  : 
for  the  studies  of  men  were  at  that  time  verging 
toward  logomachies  and  disputations,  and  leaving 
the    severer   investigation   of  truth.     Wherefore 
dogmas  of  this  nature  are  rather  to  be  condemned 
in  the  mass   than   refuted    in   detail.     For  they 
come  not  from  a  desire  of  knowledge,  but  of  much 
speaking :  and  that  abstract  matter  is   not  the 
matter  of  the  universe,  but  matter  for  disputation. 
For  a  true   philosopher  will   dissect,  not   sever 
nature,  (for  they  who  will  not  dissect,  must  pull 
her  asunder,)  and  the  prime  matter  is  to  be  laid 
down  joined  with  the  primitive  form,  as  also  with 
the  first  principle  of  motion,  as  it  is  found.     For 
the  abstraction  of  motion  has  also   given  rise  to 
innumerable  devices  concerning  spirits,  life,  and 
the  like,  as   if  there  were  not  laid  a  sufficient 
ground  for  them  through  matter  and  form,  but 
they  depended  on  their   own  peculiar  elements. 
But  these  three  are  not  to  be  separated,  but  only 
distinguished,   and    matter  is  to    be    so   treated 
(whatever  it  be)  in  regard  of  its  adornment,  ap 
pendages,  and  form,  as  that  all  kind  of  influence, 
essence,  action,  and  natural  motion  may  appear 
to  be  its  emanation  and  consequence.     Nor  need 
we  fear  that  from  this  that  inquiry  should  stag 
nate,  or  that  variety  which  we  perceive  should 
become    incapable   of    explanation,   as    will   be 
shown   hereafter.     And  that  the   first  matter  is 
possessed  of  form,  the  parable  teaches  in  making 
Cupid  a  definite  person.     Yet  so  that  matter  in 
the  mass  was  at  first  without  form  :  for  chaos  is 
without  form,  Cupid  is  a  person.     And  this  per 
fectly  agrees  with  Holy  Scripture.     For  it  is  not 
written  that   God  created  in  the  beginning  the 
matter  of  chaos,  but  the  heavens  and  the  earth. 

There  is  also  subjoined  a  description  of  the 
state  of  things  as  it  was  before  the  work  of  the 
days,  in  which  distinct  mention  is  made  of  the 
heaven  and  earth,  which  are  the  names  of  forms, 
but  yet,  that  the  mass  according  to  the  whole  was 
without  form.  But  Cupid  is  introduced  into  the 
parable  personified,  yet  so  as  that  he  is  naked. 
Therefore,  after  those  who  speak  of  matter  as  ab 
stract,  they  err  next  (though  in  a  contrary  way) 
\vho  speak  of  matter  as  not  unclothed.  And,  on 
this  topic  I  have  inserted  some  remarks,  in  treat 
ing  upon  what  kind  of  proofs  are  suited  to  the  sub 
ject  of  the  first  matter,  and  upon  the  heterogene 
ous  nature  of  the  first  matter.  But  the  proper 
place  for  this  subject,  upon  which  we  shall  now 
enter. 

We  will  examine,  therefore,  who  o£  those  who 
attributed  the  origin  of  things  to  matter  endowed 
with  form,  held  a  native  and  bare  form  of  matter, 
and  who,  on  the  other  hand,  a  form  spread  over 
it  and  shapen.  There  are,  in  all,  four  sects  of 
those  who  have  hazarded  opinions  on  this  sub 
ject. — The  first  is  of  those  who  maintain  one 
element  of  things,  but  set  up  a  diversity  of  enti 


ties  in  the  unfixed  and  distributable  nature  of  the 
same  element.  The  second  is  of  those  who 
maintain  an  element  one  in  substance,  and  fixed 
and  invariable,  but  derive  a  diversity  of  entities 
through  the  various  magnitudes,  figures,  and  po 
sitions  of  this  kind  of  element.  The  third  is  of 
those  who  maintain  more  elements,  and  a  diver 
sity  of  entities,  on  the  ground  of  their  tempera 
ment  and  commixture.  The  fourth,  of  those  who 
lay  down  an  infinite,  or,  at  least,  very  numerous 
body  of  elements  of  things,  but  with  their  species 
and  forms ;  and  these  have  no  need  of  inventing 
something  to  lead  things  to  a  various  principle, 
seeing  they  already  separate  nature  from  a  primi 
tive  element.  Among  these,  only  the  second  sect 
seems  to  me  to  set  forth  Cupid  as  he  is,  native 
and  unclothed.  The  first  introduces  him  as  veiled, 
the  third  with  a  coat,  the  fourth  with  a  cloak  and 
mask. 

For  the  better  explication  of  the  parable,!  will 
make  a  few  remarks  on  each.  In  the  first  place, 
then,  of  those  who  have  laid  down  but  one  first 
element,  I  find  none  who  affirm  that  of  the  earth. 
The  nature  of  the  earth,  indeed,  was  against  it; 
quiet,  and  senseless,  and  inactive,  but'yielding  to 
the  influence  of  the  heavens,  of  fire,  and  other 
things  ;  so  that  none  thought  of  asserting  this  of 
the  earth.  Yet,  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients  as 
signed  to  the  earth  the  next  place  after  chaos, 
making  it  first  the  parent,  then  the  bride  of  the 
heaven,  from  which  union  proceed  all  things. 
But  we  are  not  to  suppose  from  this,  that  the 
ancients  ever  thought  of  the  earth  as  the  principle 
of  essence,  but  as  the  element,  or  rather  origin  of 
the  system.  We,  therefore,  leave  this  subject  to 
the  parable  on  heaven  that  follows;  where  we 
will  inquire  into  the  origin  of  things,  which  in 
quiry  comes  after  that  of  their  elements. 

Thales  made  water  the  prime  element.  For, 
he  saw  that  matter  was  mostly  disposed  in  mois 
ture,  and  that  in  water.  But  he  deemed  that  it 
was  right  to  make  that  the  element  of  things  in 
which  the  virtues  and  powers  of  entities,  espe 
cially  the  elements  of  generations  and  renovations, 
were  mostly  found.  He  remarked  that  the  gene 
rating  of  animals  was  by  moisture,  and  that  the 
seeds  and  kernels  of  plants,  as  long  as  they 
vegetated  and  were  not  dried  up,  were  moist  and 
tender.  He  remarked  that  metals  melted  and 
flowed,  and  were,  as  it  were,  the  thickened  juices 
of  the  earth,  or  rather  a  kind  of  mineral  waters. 
He  remarked  that  the  earth  itself  was  enriched 
and  renewed  by  showers  or  the  irrigation  of 
rivers ;  and  that  the  earth  and  loam  seemed  nothing 
jut  the  dregs  and  sediments  of  water ;  but  that 
the  air  was  very  evidently  the  expiration  and  ex 
pansion  of  water,  and  that  fire  was  not  conceived 
of  itself,  nor  altogether  continued,  or  was  kept 
alive  of  itself,  but  from  and  through  moisture; 
ind,  moreover,  that  that  fat  of  moisture,  in 
which  the  fire  and  flame  are  supported  and  live, 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


439 


appeared  a  kind  of  maturity  and  concoction  of 
water ;  and,  that  a  body  and  mass  of  water  was 
spread  through  the  whole  as  a  common  fuel ;  that 
the  sea  surrounded  the  land ;  that  there  was  a  very 
vast  and  subterraneous  force  of  sweet  waters, 
whence  come  springs  and  rivers,  which,  like  veins, 
carry  the  waters  through  both  the  face  and  bowels 
of  the  earth  ;  and  that,  in  the  heights  above  were 
immense  congregations  of  vapours  and  waters, 
and,  as  it  were,  another  universe  of  waters,  for 
the  reparation  and  renovation  of  the  waters  below, 
and  of  the  sea.  He,  moreover,  thought  that  those 
waters  and  vapours  fed  the  heavenly  fires,  for 
that  those  worlds  could  not  subsist  without  some 
nourishment,  and  that  this  was  the  only  nourish 
ment  that  they  could  possess.  He  remarked  that 
the  figure  of  water,  as  seen  in  drops  or  particles 
of  water,  was  that  of  the  universe,  round  and 
spherical,  and  that  the  undulation  of  water  was 
apparent  even  in  air  and  fire ;  lastly,  that  the  mo 
tion  of  water  was  suited  to  its  nature,  neither  too 
slow  nor  too  quick,  and  of  all  generations  the 
most  numerous  was  the  generation  of  fishes  and 
water  animals.  But  Anaximenes  chose  air  for  the 
one  sole  element.  For,  if  bulk  is  to  come  into 
consideration  in  treating  upon  the  elements  of 
things,  air  seems  by  far  the  most  bulky,  and  to 
occupy  the  greatest  space.  For,  unless  a  separate 
vacuum  be  given,  or  the  superstition  of  the  hete 
rogeneous  nature  of  the  heavenly  and  sublunary 
bodies  be  resorted  to,  whatever  is  extended  from 
the  globe  of  the  earth  to  the  furthest  region  of 
the  heavenly  expanse,  and  is  neither  star  nor  me 
teor,  seems  to  be  filled  \vith  aerial  substance. 
And  the  abode  of  this  earthly  globe  is  thought  to 
be  as  a  point,  in  comparison  of  the  circuit  of  the 
heavens.  But  in  the  ether  itself,  how  very  small 
a  portion  is  besprinkled  with  stars,  when  in  the 
nearer  spheres  they  are  seen  single,  in  the  last, 
although  there  is  a  great  number  of  them,  yet, 
considering  the  interstellar  spaces,  but  a  small 
part  of  space  seems  to  be  occupied  by  stars  ;  so 
that  they  all  appear  to  swim  in  one  immense  sea 
of  ether.  Nor  is  that  part  of  ether  and  spirit  in 
considerable,  which  has  its  seat  and  settlement 
in  the  waters  and  the  hollow  places  of  the  earth, 
whence  the  waters  receive  their  tides.  They  are, 
moreover,  extended,  and  swell ;  but  not  only  has 
the  earth  its  porousness,  but  also  its  tremors  and 
agitations,  evident  signs  of  wind  and  air  pent  up 
within  it.  But  if  a  middle  nature  is  proper  to 
elements,  in  order  to  the  being  susceptible  of  so 
great  a  variety,  that  is  certainly  found  in  air.  For 
air  is,  as  it  were,  the  common  bond  of  things,  not 
only  because  it  is  everywhere  close  at  hand,  and 
takes  the  place  of  other  things,  and  possesses 
itself  of  void  spaces,  but  so  much  the  more  from 
its  appearing  to  have  a  middle  and  a  diaphorous 
nature.  For  this  is  that  body  which  receives  and 
conveys  light,  darkness,  and  the  tints  of  all  colours 
and  shades,  which,  by  its  admirably  nice  motion, 


discriminates  the  impressions  and  notes  of  har 
monic,  and,  what  is  by  far  more  remarkable,  of 
articulate  sounds,  which  enters  without  confusing 
the  differences  of  scents,  not  only  those  general 
ones  of  pure  and  fetid,  of  dull,  acute,  and  the 
like,  but  also  the  peculiar  and  specific,  as  of  the 
rose  or  the  violet;  which  accommodates  itself 
equally  to  those  remarkable  and  very  powerful 
qualities  of  hot  and  cold,  also  of  wet  and  dry,  in 
which  aqueous  vapours,  dense  fogs,  spirits  of 
salts,  fumes  of  metals,  fly  suspended  in  the 
height;  lastly,  in  which  the  rays  of  light  and 
the  closer  agreements  and  variances  of  things 
move  and  make  a  noise  ;  so  that  the  air  is,  as  it 
were,  a  second  chaos,  in  which  so  many  seeds  of 
things  move,  wander,  try  their  powers,  and  are 
tried.  Lastly,  if  you  consider  its  genial  and 
vivifying  power,  which  conducts  you  to  the  ele 
ments  of  things  and  manifests  them,  they  seem 
to  be  also  the  more  excellent  parts  of  the  air,  so 
that  the  words  air,  spirit,  and  life,  are  often  used 
as  if  they  were  synonymous.  And,  with  reason, 
since  some  degree  of  respiration  seems  the  insepe- 
rable  companion  of  life  a  little  more  advanced, 
(excepting  those  little  beginnings  of  life  in  em 
bryos  and  in  eggs,)  so  that  fishes  are  suffocated 
by  the  congealing  of  water.  Also,  fire  itself, 
unless  kept  alive  by  the  surrounding  body  of  air, 
is  extinguished,  and  seems  only  worn-out  air  irri 
tated  and  inflamed;  as  water,  on  the  other  hand, 
can  appear  to  be  the  conjunction  and  reception  of 
air.  Nor  is  there  any  necessity  to  maintain  that 
the  earth  constantly  exhales  the  air,  nor  that  it 
passes  through  water  into  the  form  of  air.  But 
Heraclitus,  who  was  more  acute,  but  not  so  much 
to  be  relied  upon,  held  fire  to  be  the  element  of 
things.  For  it  was  not  a  middle  nature,  which 
is  wont  to  be  extremely  uncertain  and  corrupti 
ble,  but  the  highest  and  most  perfect  nature, 
which  is  a  considerable  bound,  as  it  were,  to 
corruption  and  change,  which  Heraclitus  sought 
for  instituting  the  origin  of  things.  Now, 
he  saw  that  the  greatest  variety  and  pertur 
bation  of  things  was  found  in  solid  and  con 
sistent  bodies.  For  such  bodies  can  be  organic, 
and,  as  it  were,  a  kind  of  machines,  which  acquire 
innumerable  variations  according  to  their  shape, 
as  the  bodies  of  animals  and  plants.  Even  among 
these,  such  as  are  not  organic  upon  a  closer 
inspection,  are  found  to  be  very  dissimilar.  For, 
how  great  is  the  dissimilarity  between  those  very 
parts  of  animals  which  are  called  similar !  the 
brain,  the  crystalline  humour,  the  white  of  the 
eye,  the  bones,  membranes,  cartilages,  nerves, 
veins,  flesh,  fat,  marrow,  blood,  sperm,  breath, 
chyle,  and  the  rest;  also  between  the  parts  of 
vegetables,  roots,  barks,  stalks,  leaves,  flowers, 
seeds,  and  the  like  !  But  fossils  are  not  certainly 
organic,  but  yet  are  variously  mixed  together  in 
one  kind,  and  show  mutually  a  very  great  variety. 
Wherefore,  that  base  of  the  diversity  of  entities 


440 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


so  vast,  so  broad,  so  extended,  in  which  so  vast 
an  apparatus  of  things  is  manifested  and  is  con 
stantly  present,  seems  to  be  fixed  in  a  solid  and 
constant  nature.  But  the  power  of  formation 
seems  plainly  to  desert  the  bodies  of  liquids. 
For  there  is  not  found  in  all  nature  one  animal  or 
plant  in  a  body  of  mere  fluid.  That  infinite 
variety  of  form,  therefore,  is  cut  off  and  taken 
away  from  the  nature  of  liquid.  No  small  variety, 
however,  does  remain,  as  is  clear  in  the  so  great 
variety  of  fusibles,  juices,  distilled  bodies,  and 
the  like.  But  in  aerial  and  pneumatic  bodies  a 
much  greater  variety  is  enclosed,  and  there  seems 
drawn  over  them  a  somewhat  promiscuous  simili 
tude  of  things.  That  influence,  indeed,  of  colours 
and  tastes,  by  which  liquids  are  in  some  instances 
distinguished,  ceases  indeed  altogether  here;  but 
that  of  scents  and  of  some  other  properties  remains 
yet,  so  as  that  they  pass  through,  are  confused, 
and  do  not  inhere ;  so  that  on  the  whole  variety 
rlisappears  in  proportion  as  we  approach  the  na 
ture  of  fire.  But  after  we  are  come  to  the  nature 
of  fire,  and  that  rectified  and  purer,  every  organ, 
every  peculiar  property,  every  dissimilarity  is  put 
off,  and  nature  seems  to  coalesce  as  it  were  in  a 
pyramidal  point,  and  to  have  reached  the  limit  of 
its  own  proper  action.  Heraclitus  called,  there 
fore,  the  kindling  of  fire  peace,  because  it  made 
nature  one ;  but  generation  war,  because  it  made 
it  manifold.  In  order,  therefore,  to  explain  by 
some  means  the  manner  in  which  things  ebbed 
and  flowed  as  a  stream,  from  variety  to  simplicity 
and  from  simplicity  to  variety,  he  supposed  fire 
was  condensed  and  then  rarefied,  yet  so  as  that 
rarefying  toward  the  nature  of  fire  should  be  the 
direct  and  progressive  action  of  nature;  but  the 
densation  as  it  were  a  receding  from  and  leaving 
of  nature.  He  thought  that  both  took  place  by 
fate  and  at  certain  periods,  (according  to  the  sum,) 
so  that  there  would  be  at  some  time  or  other  a 
conflagration  of  the  world,  which  is  now  moved 
in  its  orbit,  and  then  a  renovation,  and  so  on  suc 
cessively  forever.  But  he  held  a  diverse  order 
of  incension  and  extinction,  if  any  one  is  well 
versed  in  that  slight  remain  of  information  con 
cerning  him  and  his  opinions  which  hath  de 
scended  to  our  time.  But  in  the  scale  of  incension 
he  in  no  way  differed  from  the  usual  and  well 
known  opinion,  that  the  progress  of  rarefication 
and  extenuation  was  from  earth  to  water,  from 
\vater  to  air,  from  air  to  fire:  but  he  did  not  hold 
the  same  return,  but  plainly  inverted  the  order. 
For  he  asserted  that  fire  brought  out  earth  through 
extinction  as  a  kind  of  dregs  and  soot  of  fire; 
that  they  next  conceived  and  collected  moisture, 
whence  came  the  flowing  forth  of  water,  which 
again  emitted  and  breathed  out  air,  so  that  a  sud 
den,  not  a  gradual  change  is  made  from  fire  to 
water.  And  these  or  better  notions  did  those  con 
ceive  who  asserted  one  element  of  things,  looking 
upon  nature  simply,  not  for  the  sake  of  strife. 


And  they  are  indeed  to  be  praised,  because  they 
ascribed  but  one  vest  to  Cupid,  that  which 
approaches  nearest  to  bareness,  and  as  it  were  a 
veil  of  the  thinnest  and  lightest  kind.  But  by  the 
vest  of  Cupid  I  mean  a  certain  form  attributed  to 
primary  matter,  which  is  asserted  to  be  sub 
stantially  homogeneous  with  the  form  of  some 
one  of  the  secondary  entities.  It  will  be  easy  to 
prove  that  the  assertions  we  have  recited  respect 
ing  water,  air,  fire,  are  groundless,  and  here  we 
can  take  them  by  the  genus,  and  not  severally  by 
the  species,  into  consideration.  In  the  first  place, 
then,  the  ancients  did  not  inquire  with  accuracy 
into  the  nature  of  elements,  but  only  made  it 
their  object  to  find  out  the  chief  virtues  of  those 
bodies  that  were  clearly  under  the  senses,  and 
those  virtues  they  supposed  were  the  elements  of 
things,  through  a  seeming,  not  a  real  and  true 
superiority  of  nature.  For  they  thought  that  such 
a  nature  was  worthy  of  being  said  to  be  solely 
that  which  it  appeared  :  but  every  thing  else  they 
held  to  be  the  nature  itself,  though  by  no  means 
according  with  the  appearance ;  so  that  they  seem 
to  have  spoken  metaphorically,  or  to  have  been 
under  some  fascination,  since  the  more  powerful 
impression  drew  the  remaining  properties  after 
it.  But  a  true  philosopher  would  look  with 
equal  attention  to  all  the  circumstances,  and 
would  consider  those  to  be  the  elements  of  tilings 
which  agreed  with  the  very  least  and  fewest  and 
the  most  solitary  of  entities,  and  not  only  with 
the  greatest,  most  numerous,  and  most  prolific. 
For  although  we  men  are  most  struck  by  those 
entities  which  mostly  meet  our  sight,  the  bosom 
of  nature  is  open  to  them  all.  But  if  they  hold 
that  their  opinion  of  an  element,  not  on  account 
of  superiority  of  nature,  but  simply,  they  seem 
indeed  to  fall  into  the  adoption  of  a  harsher 
figure ;  since  the  thing  is  plainly  made  equivocal, 
and  their  assertion  cannot  be  predicated  either  of 
natural  fire,  air,  or  water,  but  of  a  certain  fan 
tastical  and  notional  fire,  (and  so  of  the  rest,) 
which  retains  the  name  without  the  definition  of 
fire.  They  seem,  too,  forced  into  the  same  diffi 
culties  with  those  who  assert  abstract  matter. 
For,  as  they  introduce  an  entire,  so  do  these  a 
partial,  potential,  and  fantastic  matter.  For 
they  lay  down  matter  in  one  respect  (as,  that  is, 
their  supposed  element)  with  form  and  action ; 
in  other  respects  only  potential.  Nor  is  any 
thing  gained  by  this  kind  of  sole  principle  more 
than  by  the  supposition  of  abstract  matter,  unless 
it  be  deemed  an  advantage  that  it  is  entertainable 
by  the  comprehension  of  man,  in  which  human 
contemplation  is  more  fixed  and  acquiesces,  and 
through  which  the  notion  of  the  element  itself  is 
made  somewhat  fuller,  but  as  to  every  other  cir 
cumstance  more  difficult  and  abstruse.  But  pre 
dicaments  did  not  rule  then,  so  as  that  this  element 
of  abstract  nature  might  lie  hid  under  the  protect 
ing  tutelage  of  the  predicament  of  the  substance. 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


441 


No  one  dared,  therefore,  to  feign  a  kind  of  matter 
entirely  fantastic,  but  decided  upon  a  principle 
according  to  perception,  a  certain  true  ens;  but 
yet  (proceeding  in  this  respect  too  far)  the  mode 
of  its  distribution  fantastic.  For,  they  find 
nothing,  nay,  they  do  not  feign  any  thing  by 
which,  by  an  appetite  or  incitement,  or  in  any 
way,  method,  or  guidance,  this  their  element  may 
degenerate  from  itself  and  again  return  to  itself. 
But  when  throughout  the  universe  there  appears 
so  great  an  army  of  contrary  powers,  density, 
rarity,  heat,  cold,  light,  darkness,  animation, 
inanimation,  and  of  many  others  which  contend 
with  each  other  and  fall  into  privation  or  nothing 
ness,  to  suppose  that  all  these  flow  from  one  and 
the  same  fount  of  a  material  nature,  and  yet  not 
to  point  out  any  way  in  which  this  can  take  place, 
is  the  part  of  a  mind  overcome  by  distraction, 
and  seems  a  departure  from  the  spirit  of  true 
inquiry.  For  if  the  thing  were  clearly  made  out 
by  sense,  it  were  to  be  borne  with,  though  the 
mode  of  it  were  involved  in  obscurity ;  again,  if 
by  the  strength  of  reason  any  suitable  and  credible 
mode  could  be  searched  out,  one  might  learn  per 
haps  from  appearances ;  but  our  assent  is  by  no 
means  to  be  demanded  to  the  existence  of  entities, 
neither  evident  to  the  senses,  nor  admitting  of 
any  probable  elucidation  from  reason.  Besides, 
if  there  were  but  one  element  of  things,  there 
ought  to  be  seen  in  all  things  some  signs  of  it, 
and  certain  more  excellent  parts,  and  a  certain 
pie-eminent  quality  in  their  nature.  It  ought 
moreover  to  be  in  open  sight,  that  it  might  the 
more  easily  be  accessible  to  all  things,  and  might 
diffuse  itself  throughout  its  orbit.  But  none  of 
these  things  can  be  made  out  from  their  dogmas. 
For,  the  earth,  which  is  cut  off  from  the  honour 
of  being  deemed  an  element,  appears  to  receive 
and  cherish  natures  opposite  to  these  three  princi 
pal,  seeing  that  to  the  mobility  and  lucid  nature 
of  fire  it  opposes  the  natures  of  rest  and  dark 
ness  ;  to  the  tenuity  and  softness  of  air,  in  like 
manner,  the  natures  of  density  and  hardness  ; 
and  to  the  humidity  and  yieldingness  of  water, 
a  nature  dry,  stubborn,  and  rough,  and  the  earth 
occupies  a  middle  rank,  the  rest  being  denied  this 
claim.  Moreover,  if  it  were  the  only  principle 
of  things,  it  ought  to  have  a  natural  fitness  equal 
to  both  the  generation  and  dissolution  of  things. 
For  it  as  much  belongs  to  the  nature  of  an  ele 
ment  that  things  should  be  dissolved  into  it,  as 
that  they  should  be  produced  out  of  it.  But  this 
is  not  the  case:  but  of  those  bodies  air  and  fire 
seem  quite  incapacitated  from  administering  any 
generating  material,  and  only  to  be  adapted  to 
the  receiving  of  bodies  resolved  into  them.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  water  is  very  favourable  and 
conducive  to  generation,  but  with  respect  to 
resolution  or  restoration  of  bodies  the  reverse;  as 
would  be  easily  perceptible,  if  showers  cease  a 
little  while.  Nay,  putrefaction  itself  by  no 
VOL.  I 56 


means  reduces  things  to  pure  and  raw  water. 
But  this  was  by  far  their  greatest  error,  that  they 
made  an  element  of  that  which  is  corruptible  and 
mortal.  This  they  do,  when  they  introduce  an 
element  which  lays  down  and  leaves  its  own 
nature  in  its  compounds.  For,  "whatever  by 
undergoing  change  departs  from  its  proper  limits, 
this  change  is  forthwith  the  death  of  that  thing 
which  it  was  before.'*  But  wye  shall  need  to 
take  this  into  our  account  more  when  we  have 
come  to  the  proper  place  for  considering  the  third 
sect,  which  held  more  elements  than  one,  which 
sect  has  at  once  more  strength  and  more  prejudice. 
We  will,  therefore,  treat  of  these  opinions  seve 
rally  and  not  in  the  mass. 

Of  those,  then,  who  asserted  a  plurality  of  ele 
ments,  we  will  place  by  themselves  such  as  make 
them  also  infinite.  For  the  consideration  of  in 
finity  pertains  to  the  parable  of  the  heaven.  But 
of  the  ancients,  Parmenides  held  two  principles, 
the  fire  and  the  earth,  or  heaven  and  earth.  For 
he  asserted  that  the  sun  and  stars  \vere  true  fire, 
pure  and  limpid,  not  degenerate  as  our  fire,  which, 
like  Vulcan  after  his  fall,  is  the  worse  for  its  trans 
mission.  These  opinions  were  brought  up  again 
in  our  age  by  Telesius,  who  was  deeply  versed  in 
the  peripatetic  system,  (if,  indeed,  there  can  be 
said  to  be  system  in  it,)  which  yet  he  turned 
against  itself;  but  unhappy  in  the  stating  of  pro 
positions,  and  more  able  to  pull  down  than  to 
build  up.  There  are  indeed  but  very  slight  and 
sparing  memorials  left  us  of  the  conceptions  of 
Parmenides.  But  we  see  the  foundations  of  a 
similar  opinion  obviously  laid  in  Plutarch,  "  De 
primo  frigido,"  which  seems  to  be  taken  from  an 
ancient  work  then  in  being,  but  now  lost.  For 
they  contain  not  a  few  opinions  more  acute  and 
solid  than  the  author's  generally  were  ;  and  by 
these  Telesius  seems  to  have  been  roused  both  to 
catch  them  up  with  earnestness,  and  to  pursue 
them  with  vigour,  in  his  commentaries  on  the 
nature  of  things.  These  are  the  dogmas  of  this 
sect :  that  the  first  forms  and  first  entities  are  ac 
tive,  and  that  so  the  first  substances  also,  cold  and 
heat;  that  these  nevertheless  exist  incorporeally, 
but  that  there  is  subjoined  to  them  a  passive  and 
potential  matter,  which  has  a  corporeal  magni 
tude,  and  is  equally  susceptive  of  either  nature, 
itself  at  the  same  time  void  of  all  action :  that 
light  is  the  budding  forth  of  heat,  but  of  heat  scat 
tered,  which,  being  multiplied  by  coition,  is  made 
firm  and  sensible  ;  that  darkness  is,  in  like  man 
ner,  the  destitution  and  commingling  of  nature 
radiating  from  cold ;  that  rarity  and  density  are 
the  textures,  and,  as  it  were,  the  webs  of  heat  and 
cold :  but  that  heat  and  cold  produce  and  manu 
facture  of  them,  as  it  were,  cold  by  condensing 
and  thickening  the  work,  heat  by  widening  and 
extending  it :  that  from  such  kind  of  textures  is 
put  into  bodies  a  disposition  of  their  parts  toward 
motion,  either  suitable  to  motion  or  somewhat 


442 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


averse  to  it,  in  the  thinner  bodies  prompt  and  na 
turally  fitted  to  motion,  in  the  denser  inclining  to 
torpor  and  averse  to  it;  that  heat  therefore  excites 
and  effects  motion  through  a  rarefied  space,  and 
that  cold  represses  and  stops  motion  through  a 
dense  space :  wherefore,  say  they,  there  are  four 
co-essential  natures  and  conjoined,  and  those  two 
fold,  preserving  that  order  mutually  which  I  have 
mentioned,  (for  heat  and  cold  are  the  sources,  the 
others  are  emanations,)  yet  that,  nevertheless, 
they  are  ever  concomitant  and  inseparable  :  that 
those  four  natures  are  heat,  light,  rarity,  and  mo 
tion  :  that,  again,  there  are  four  opposed  to  these ; 
cold,  darkness,  denseness,  and  immobility :  that 
the  seats  and  regions  of  the  first  conjugation  is  in 
the  heaven,  the  stars,  and  especially  in  the  sun  ; 
for  that  the  heaven  from  its  surpassing  and  pure 
heat,  and  from  its  matter  mostly  extended,  is  the 
hottest,  most  clear,  and  most  rare,  and  highly  in 
clined  to  motion ;  that  the  earth,  on  the  other  hand, 
owing  to  its  pure  and  unbroken  cold,  and  from  its 
matter  being  mostly  contracted,  was  the  most  cold, 
dark,  and  dense,  utterly  motionless,  and  altogether 
unsuited  by  nature  to  motion  ;  but  that  the  heights 
of  heaven  preserve  their  nature  entire  and  unhurt, 
admitting  some  diversity  among  themselves,  but 
altogether  removed  from  the  violence  and  attack 
of  a  contrary  ;  that  there  is  the  same  consistency 
through  the  lower  parts  of  the  earth,  that  only  the 
extreme  parts  where  there  is  a  nearness  and  meet 
ing  of  the  contraries  is  uneasy,  and  suffers  oppo 
sition  from  the  mutual  quarter ;  that  so  the  heaven 
is  in  its  whole  mass  and  substance  full  of  heat, 
and  entirely  free  from  every  contrary  nature,  but 
unequally,  being  in  some  parts  more,  in  others 
less  heated  ;  that  the  body  of  the  stars  is  more 
intensely  hot, the  interstellary  space  less  so;  and, 
moreover,  that  some  stars  are  more  endued  with 
heat  than  others,  and  are  of  a  more  vivid  and 
darting  kind  of  fire;  yet  so  as  that  the  contrary 
nature  of  cold,  or  any  degree  of  it,  never  penetrates 
thither;  for  that  the  body  of  the  stars  receive  a 
diversity,  but  not  a  contrariety  of  nature  :  and  that 
no  judgment  can  be  formed  from  common  fire  of 
the  heat  or  fire  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  which  is 
pure,  and  in  its  natural  state ;  that  our  fire  is  in 
deed  remote  from  its  own  natural  place,  tremulous, 
surrounded  with  contrary  influences,  of  a  low  na 
ture,  requiring,  as  it  were,  nourishment  for  its  very 
existence,  and  wandering  about,  but  that  being 
placed  in  the  heavens,  disjoined  from  the  impetus 
of  any  contrary  force,  it  kept  its  own  place,  was 
preserved  out  of  its  own  power,  and  out  of  that 
of  similar  influences,  and  preserved  its  own  pro 
per  course  of  action  in  freedom  and  unmolested. 
Also,  that  the  whole  heaven  was  full  of  light, 
though  not  in  the  same  proportion  throughout. 
For  since  of  the  stars  that  are  known  and  can  be 
reckoned  up,  some  which  can  only  be  seen  when 
the  heavens  are  unclouded,  and  since  there  are  in 
the  galaxy  clusters  of  little  stars,  which  by  their 


union  give  forth  a  white  appearance,  but  do  not 
seem  distinct  bodies  of  light,  none  can  doubt  that 
there  are  very  many  stars  invisible  to  us,  and  that 
so  the  whole  of  the  heaven  is  one  body  endowed 
with  light,  though  not  with  light  so  strong  and 
darting,  nor  with  rays  so  deep  and  condensed  as 
to  pass  beyond  such  vast  distances,  and  to  reach 
our  sight.  And  he  held  that  the  whole  heaven 
was  of  a  thin  and  subtile  substance,  and  that  there 
was  nothing  in  it  that  was  crowded  together,  no 
thing  forcedly  compact,  but  that  in  this  region 
matter  was  more  expanded,  in  that  less.  Lastly, 
that  the  motion  of  the  heaven  was  such  as  most 
suited  a  movable  body,  conversive  or  rotatory, 
for  the  circular  motion  is  without  a  bound,  and 
that  for  its  own  sake,  as  it  were,  this  motion  is  in 
a  right  line,  to  a  limit,  and  to  some  object,  and  as 
if  for  the  purpose  of  attaining  rest.  That,  there 
fore,  the  whole  heaven  was  borne  along  by  a  cir 
cular  motion,  and  that  no  part  of  it  was  without 
this  motion,  but  that,  nevertheless,  as  in  the  heat, 
light,  and  subtlety  of  the  heavenly  nature  there 
exists  inequality,  so  it  is  also  seen  in  the  motion 
or  the  heavens,  and  the  more  clearly  since  it  admits 
more  of  human  observation,  and  can  even  be  mea* 
sured. 

But  that  orbicular  motion  can  differ  both  in  its 
speed  and  in  its  course ;  in  speed  so  as  to  be 
either  quicker  or  slower,  in  its  course  so  as  to  be 
in  a  perfect  circle,  or  to  have  somewhat  of  a  spiral 
direction,  and  not  to  restore  itself  plainly  to  the 
same  bound,  (for  a  spiral  line  is  compounded  of  a 
right  line  and  a  circle  ;)  and  that  so  the  heaven  is 
subject  to  variety  of  speed,  and  to  deflection  from 
recovery  of  itself,  or  to  a  spiral  course.  For  both 
the  fixed  stars  and  the  planets  are  of  unequal 
speed,  and  the  planets  evidently  turn  from  tropic 
to  tropic,  and  the  higher  the  heavenly  bodies  are, 
the  greater  speed  they  acquire  and  the  nearer 
compass.  For  if  the  phenomena  are  taken  simply, 
and  as  they  appear,  and  there  be  laid  down  one 
diurnal  motion  in  the  heavens,  simple  and  natural, 
and  that  mathematical  beauty  of  reducing  motions 
to  perfect  circles  be  rejected,  and  spiral  lines 
received,  and  those  contrarieties  of  motions  in 
consecutive  order  from  east  to  west  which  they 
call  the  motion  of  the  primum  mobile,  and  again 
from  west  to  east,  which  they  call  the  planetary 
motion,  are  reduced  to  one,  by  still  keeping  the 
difference  of  the  time  in  the  return  through  over- 
haste,  and  through  leaving  of  the  course  to  the 
difference  as  to  the  smoothness  of  the  zodiac 
through  the  windings,  it  is  plain  that  it  will  take 
place  which  I  have  said  :  for  instance,  that  the 
moon,  which  is  the  lowest  of  the  planets,  will  go 
the  most  slowly  in  a  curve  the  least  deep,  and 
most  expanded.  And  there  may  seem  to  this 
sect  to  be  (on  account  of  the  distance  from  the 
opposite  side)  a  firm  and  constant  kind  of  nature 
of  this  portion  of  the  heaven.  But  Telesius  does 
not  clearly  lay  down  whether  he  preserved  the 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


443 


ancient  bounds  so  as  to  conceive  that  whatever 
was  situated  above  the  moon  was  the  same  with 
the  moon  itself,  or  whether  he  thought  that  an 
opposing  power  ascended  higher.  But  he  held 
a  portion  of  the  earth  (which  is  the  seat  of  an 
opposite  nature)  to  be  in  the  same  way  quite  of 
an  unmixed  and  solid  nature,  and  impenetrable 
by  heavenly  influences.  But  he  considered  that 
there  was  no  reason  for  inquiring  into  the  nature 
of  that  portion,  only  that  it  was  endowed  with 
these  four  natures,  cold,  darkness,  density,  and 
rest,  and  those  perfect,  and  no  way  impaired. 
But  he  assigns  to  the  generation  of  things  the 
part  of  the  earth  toward  its  surface  as  a  kind  of 
bark  or  incrustation,  and  that  all  the  entities 
which  have  come  to  our  knowledge  in  any  way, 
even  the  heaviest,  hardest,  and  the  lowest  down, 
metals,  stones,  the  sea,  are  produced  from  the 
earth,  subdued  in  some  part  by  the  heat  of  the 
heaven,  and  which  has  already  conceived  some 
what  of  heat,  radiation,  tenuity,  and  mobility,  and 
which  partakes  of  a  middle  nature  between  the 
sun  and  the  pure  earth.  It  is  requisite,  therefore, 
that  pure  earth  be  placed  lower  than  the  bottom 
of  the  sea,  than  minerals,  and  every  thing  that  is 
generated  :  and  that  from  that  pure  earth,  even  to 
the  moon,  or  perhaps  higher,  there  be  placed  a 
certain  middle  nature,  proceeding  from  the  tem 
peraments  and  refractions  of  the  heaven  and  earth. 
But  having  sufficiently  fortified  the  interior  of  both 
kingdoms,  he  proceeds  to  the  march  aiid  to  the 
war.  For  in  the  space  within  the  outermost 
region  of  heaven  and  the  innermost  of  earth,  is  all 
kind  of  tumult,  and  conflict,  and  horror ;  as  it  is 
with  empires,  the  borders  of  which  are  infested 
with  incursions  whilst  the  interior  provinces  enjoy 
profound  peace.  That  so  these  natures  with  their 
concretions  have  the  power  of  incessantly  gene 
rating  and  multiplying  themselves,  and  of  pour 
ing  themselves  on  every  side,  and  of  occupying 
the  whole  bulk  of  nature,  and  of  mutually  op 
posing  and  invading  each  other,  and  of  casting 
one  the  other  from  their  proper  seats,  and  of 
establishing  themselves  in  them  ;  that  they  also 
have  the  power  of  another  nature  and  its  actions, 
both  those  that  are  proper  to  perception  and  appre 
hension,  and  that  from  this  kind  of  perception 
they  have  the  power  of  moving  and  adjusting 
themselves  ;  and  that  from  this  conflict  is  deduced 
the  whole  variety  of  all  entities,  actions,  and 
influences.  But  it  seems  elsewhere  to  have 
ascribed  to  it,  though  rather  by  the  way  and 
hesitatingly,  somewhat  of  the  property  of  matter  ; 
first,  that  it  should  not  admit  of  increase  or  dimi 
nution  through  forms  and  active  entities,  but 
should  be  made  up  of  one  whole  :  then,  that  the 
motion  of  gravity  or  descent  should  be  referred  to 
it.  He  moreover  inserts  something  on  the  black 
ness  of  matter :  but  that  he  does  plainly ;  that 
heat  and  cold  by  the  same  force  and  power  remit 
their  strength  in  extended  matter  expand  it  in 


contracted,  since  they  do  not  fill  their  own  mea 
sure,  but  that  of  matter.  But  Telesius  devises  a 
method  by  which  to  explain  the  rise  of  so  various 
a  fecundity  of  entities  out  of  this  discord.  And 
first  he  has  regard  to  the  earth,  though  the  inferior 
element,  and  shows  why  it  is  that  it  has  not  been 
and  never  will  be  absorbed  and  destroyed  by  the 
sun.  The  chief  reason  he  makes  to  be  the  im 
mense  distance  of  the  earth  from  the  fixed  stars, 
sufficiently  great  from  the  sun  itself,  and  such 
as  it  should  be,  well  proportioned  in  measure. 
Secondly,  the  declination  of  the  sun's  rays  from 
the  perpendicular,  respect  being  had  to  the  different 
parts  of  the  earth,  that  for  instance  the  sun  should 
never  be  vertically  above  the  greater  part  of  the 
earth,  or  the  falling  of  his  rays  perpendicular;  so 
that  it  can  never  occupy  the  whole  globe  of  the 
earth  with  any  very  powerful  body  of  heat. 
Thirdly,  the  obliquity  of  the  sun's  motion  in  its 
passage  through  the  zodiac,  respect  being  had  to 
the  same  parts  of  the  earth  whence  the  heat  of  the 
sun,  in  whatever  power  it  is,  is  not  incessantly 
increased,  but  returns  by  greater  intervals. 
Fourthly,  the  celerity  of  the  sun  in  respect  of  his 
diurnal  motion,  which  accomplishes  so  great  a 
course  in  so  small  a  space  of  time,  whence  arises 
a  less  delay  of  heat,  nor  is  there  any  moment  of 
time  in  wrhich  the  heat  may  settle.  Fifthly,  the 
continuation  of  series  of  bodies  between  the  sun 
and  the  earth  ;  so  that  the  sun  does  not  send  forth 
an  unbroken  power  of  heat  through  a  vacuum,  but 
passing  through  so  many  resisting  bodies,  and 
having  to  do  and  to  contend  with  each,  is  weak 
ened  over  this  immense  space  ;  and  so  much  the 
more,  since  the  further  it  proceeds  and  the  weaker 
it  becomes,  so  much  the  more  increase  of  resist 
ance  does  it  find  in  the  bodies,  and  most  of  all 
after  arriving  at  the  surface  of  the  earth,  where 
there  seems  not  only  a  resistance,  but  even  some 
degree  of  repulsion.  And  he  thus  lays  down  his 
theory  on  the  process  of  change.  That  there  is 
as  it  were  a  deadly  and  interminable  war,  and 
that  those  contrary  natures  do  not  come  together 
by  any  compact,  nor  by  a  third,  excepting  primi 
tive  matter.  That  either  nature,  therefore,  natu 
rally  seeks  the  destruction  of  the  other,  and  the 
putting  into  matter  itself,  and  our  nature  only,  so 
that  it  is  the  object  of  each  (as  he  repeatedly  and 
very  plainly  saith)  to  effect  a  change  of  the  other, 
of  the  sun,  the  change  of  the  earth  into  the  sun ; 
and  of  the  earth,  the  change  of  the  sun  into  the 
earth ;  and  that  the  regularity  and  justly  propor 
tioned  motions  of  all  things  present  no  obstacle  to 
this  theory ;  nor  that  every  action  has  in  its  due 
course  its  beginning,  its  progress,  its  increase,  its 
diminution,  and  its  rest:  that,  nevertheless,  not 
any  of  these  happen  through  the  laws  of  order, 
but  entirely  through  want  of  restraint  and  order; 
for  that  the  whole  difference,  whether  of  excess  or 
inferiority  in  influence  and  action,  is  not  occasioned 
by  the  direction  of  the  effort  of  the  motion  itself. 


444 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


(which  begets  a  whole,)  but  from  the  force  and 
curb  of  the  opposite  nature.  That  the  diversity, 
multiplicity,  and  even  perplexity  of  operation  is 
owing  altogether  to  one  of  these  three ;  the  power 
of  heat,  the  arrangement  of  the  matter,  or  the 
mode  of  its  reduction :  which  three  have,  never 
theless,  an  inherent  and  mutual  connexion  and 
causality.  That  heat  itself  differs  in  power, 
quantity,  speed,  mean,  and  succession:  that  suc 
cession  itself  is  varied  in  most  bodies  by  tendency 
to  approach  or  recede,  whether  by  greater  or  less 
effort,  by  sudden  motion,  by  gradual,  or  by  return 
or  repetition  through  greater  and  less  intervals, 
and  by  changes  of  this  kind.  That  calorics  are, 
therefore,  of  a  vast  diversity  in  their  nature  and 
power,  according  to  their  purity  and  impurity, 
respect  being  had  to  their  first  source,  the  sun. 
Nor  does  heat  cherish  every  kind  of  heat:  but 
after  they  differ  mutually  a  good  number  of  de 
grees,  they  mutually  destroy  themselves  not  less 
than  cold  natures,  and  assume  their  peculiar 
powers  of  action,  and  are  opposed  to  the  acts  the 
one  of  the  other;  so  that  Telesius  makes  the  less 
with  respect  to  the  much  greater  caloric  natures 
to  hold  the  place  as  it  were  of  traitors  and  con 
spirators  with  the  cold  against  them.  And  so 
that  vivid  heat,  which  is  in  fire  and  darts,  utterly 
destroys  that  slight  heat  which  seems  to  glide 
secretly  in  water ;  and  in  like  manner  the  preter 
natural  heat  of  putrid  humours,  suffocates  and 
extinguishes  natural  heat:  but  that  there  is  a 
great  difference  as  to  the  fulness  of  a  body  of  heat, 
is  too  plain  to  need  explanation.  For  one  or  two 
coals  of  fire  do  not  throw  out  such  a  warmth  as 
many  do  together ;  and  that  the  effect  of  the  ful 
ness  of  heat  is  remarkably  shown  in  the  multipli 
cation  of  the  sun's  heat  through  the  reflection 
of  his  rays ;  for  the  number  of  his  rays  is  dou 
bled  through  simple  reflection,  multiplied  though 
various.  But  to  the  quantity  or  copiousness  of 
heat,  there  should  be  ascribed  or  added  also  its 
union,  which  is  best  seen  by  the  obliquity  and 
perpendicular  of  rays,  with  which  the  nearer  the 
direct  and  reflex  ray  meets,  and  toward  the  acuter 
angles,  the  greater  degree  of  heat  it  sends  forth 
in  proportion.  Nay,  even  the  sun  himself,  when 
amongst  those  greater  and  more  potent  fires  of  the 
fixed  stars,  the  Serpent,  the  Dogstar,  Spica,  emit 
greater  heat.  But  that  the  delay  of  heat  is  evi 
dently  an  operation  of  the  greatest  moment,  since 
all  the  influences  of  nature  have  respect  to  times, 
so  as  that  some  time  is  required  to  the  putting  its 
influences  into  action,  and  a  considerable  time  to 
the  giving  them  strength.  That  so  the  delay  of 
beat  turns  equal  heat  into  progressive  and  unequal, 
because  the  antecedent  and  subsequent  heat  is 
joined  at  the  same  time  ;  that  that  is  apparent  in 
the  autumnal  heats,  because  they  are  perceived  to 
be  more  ardent  in  the  solstitial  heats,  and  in  the 
afternoons  of  summer,  because  they  are  found  to 
bi-  more  ardent  in  the  middays  of  those  seasons; 


also,  that  in  colder  regions  the  feebleness  of  the 
heat  is  sometimes  compensated  by  the  delay  and 
length  of  the  summer  days;  but  that  the  power 
and  efficacy  of  the  mean  is  remarkable  in  the  con 
veyance  of  heat.  For  that  hence,  the  temperature 
of  the  seasons  is  very  various,  so  that  the  atmo 
sphere  is  found,  by  an  inconstancy  that  is  disco 
verable,  to  be  sometimes  cold  in  summer  days, 
sometimes  moist  in  winter  days,  the  sun  in  the 
mean  while  preserving  his  legitimate  course  and 
ordinary  distance;  that  the  corn  and  vine  are 
more  changed  by  the  south  winds  and  a  stormy 
sky;  and  that  the  whole  position  and  emission 
of  the  atmosphere,  at  one  time  pestilential  and 
morbid,  at  another  genial  and  healthful,  according 
to  the  various  revolutions  of  the  year,  has  its  rise 
from  this,  namely,  from  the  varying  of  the  medium 
of  the  air,  which  gathers  its  diverse  disposition 
from  the  very  vicissitude  and  alteration  of  the 
seasons,  perhaps  in  a  long  series.  But  that,  as 
there  is  a  multifold  ratio,  so  is  there  a  very  great 
virtue  of  the  succession  of  heat,  and  of  the  order 
in  which  heat  follows  heat.  For  that  the  sun 
could  not  send  out  so  numerous  and  prolific  a 
generation,  unless  the  configuration  of  the  body 
of  the  sun  moving  toward  the  earth,  and  the  parts 
of  the  earth,  were  a  partaker  of  the  very  great 
inequality  and  variation ;  for  the  sun  is  moved 
both  in  a  circle  and  rapidly,  and  obliquely,  and 
recalls  itself,  so  as  to  be  both  absent  and  present, 
both  nearer  and  more  remote,  and  more  perpendi 
cular  and  more  oblique,  and  returning  swifter  and 
slower,  so  as  that  the  heat  emanating  from  the 
sun  is  never  the  same,  nor  ever  recovers  itself  in 
a  little  while,  (excepting  under  the  tropics ;)  so 
that  so  great  a  variation  of  the  power  generating 
admirably  agrees  with  this  so  great  variation  in 
that  which  is  generated.  To  which  can  be  added 
the  very  diverse  nature  of  the  medium  or  vehicle. 
That  the  other  circumstances  asserted  of  the  ine 
quality  and  degrees  of  heat  alone,  can  be  referred 
to  the  vicissitudes  and  varieties  of  succession  in 
different  heats.  That  Aristotle,  therefore,  rightly 
attributed  the  generation  and  corruption  of  things 
to  the  oblique  path  of  the  sun,  making  that  as  it 
were  their  efficient  cause,  if  he  had  not  indeed 
corrupted  the  truth  he  discovered,  through  his 
unbounded  rage  for  uttering  decisions  and  of 
making  himself  the  lawgiver  of  nature,  and  of 
adapting  and  of  settling  all  things  so  as  to  make 
them  harmonize  with  his  dogmas.  For  that  he 
ought  to  have  assigned  generation  and  corruption 
(which  is  never  entirely  privative,  but  is  produc 
tive  of  a  second  generation)  to  the  inequality  of 
the  sun's  heat,  according  to  the  whole  that  is  of 
the  approaching  and  receding  of  the  sun  jointly, 
j  not  the  generation  to  the  approaching,  the  cor- 
!  ruption  to  the  receding  separately,  which  he  did, 
|  blunderingly  and  following  the  vulgar  error.  But 
I  if  any  should  think  it  strange  that  the  generation 
i  of  things  is  attributed  to  the  sun,  when  it  is 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


445 


asserted  that  the  sun  is  fire,  but  fire  generates 
nothing,  this,  saith  he,  is  a  groundless  objection: 
for  that  which  is  asserted  respecting  a  heteroge 
neous  nature  of  the  heats  of  the  sun  and  of  fire,  is 
a  mere  fantasy.  For  that  the  operations  are  infinite 
in  which  the  action  of  the  sun  and  the  action  of  fire 
come  together,  as  in  the  ripening  of  fruits,  the  con 
servation  of  tender  plants,  and  of  those  which  are 
used  to  a  clement  temperature;  in  cold  regions,  in 
the  hatching  of  eggs,  the  restoration  of  waters  to 
their  clearness,  (for  we  join  the  solar  and  animal 
heat,)  in  the  resuscitation  of  frozen  anirnalculae,  in 
the  calling  of  them  up,  and  of  vapours  and  the  like. 
But,  nevertheless,  that  our  fire  is  a  bad  imitator, 
and  does  not  well  imitate  the  actions  of  the  sun  or 
come  near  them,  since  the  sun's  heat  hath  three 
properties,  which  common  fire  can  but  poorly 
imitate  under  any  circumstances.  First,  that  from 
its  distance  it  is  less  and  more  bland  in  its  very 
degree ;  but  that  this  of  a  kind  imitable  in  some 
way;  for  such  a  measure  of  heat  is  rather  un 
known  than  unattainable.  Secondly,  that  in 
flowing  and  increasing  through  so  many  and  such 
media  it  borrows,  and  obtains  a  considerable 
degree  of  generative  influence ;  but  chiefly  because 
it  is  increased,  lessened,  advances  or  retires  with 
so  regular  an  inequality,  but  never  succeeds  to 
itself  capriciously  or  with  baste.  Which  two 
last  properties  are  almost  inimitable  by  fire, 
though  the  thing  may  be  accomplished  by  very 
considerate  and  laborious  measures.  Such  are  the 
assertions  of  Telesius  on  the  diversity  of  heats. 

But  he  scarcely  takes  any  notice  of  the  contrary 
principle  of  cold  and  of  its  distribution;  except 
perhaps  what  will  be  now  said  in  the  second 
place  on  the  disposition  of  matter,  might  seem  to 
him  to  suffice  upon  this  head,  which,  neverthe 
less,  he  ought  not  to  have  supposed,  since  it  was 
not  his  mind  to  make  cold  by  any  means  the  pri 
vation  of  heat,  but  as  an  active  principle  its  rival 
and  competitor.  But  his  dissertations  on  the  ar 
rangement  of  matter  go  to  show  how  matter  is 
affected  by  heat,  subdued  or  changed  by  it,  the 
subject  of  cold  being  entirely  overlooked.  But  I 
will  add  what  he  could,  on  his  principles,  have 
said  respecting  this  subject,  for  it  is  my  desire  to 
go  through,  and'with  impartiality,  the  theories  and 
suppositions  of  all  the  philosophers.  He  could 
have  said  that  the  seat  of  cold,  being  fixed  and 
unmoved,  most  admirably  agreed  with  the  mobile 
and  versatile  structure  of  heat,  as  the  anvil  to  the 
hammer.  For  if  both  principles  were  possessed 
of  variation  and  change,  they  would  doubtless 
produce  contrary  and  momentaneous  entities.  That 
the  immense  regions  of  heat,  (that  is,  the  heavens,) 
moreover,  were  in  some  degree  compensated  by 
the  compact  nature  of  the  globe  of  the  earth  and 
circumjacent  bodies,  since  not  the  space,  but  the 
quantity  of  matter  in  the  space,  is  taken  into  the 
account,  but  that  the  nature  of  cold,  its  powers 
and  proportions  need  but  few  words,  since  expe- 


'  rience  does  not  furnish  us  with  any  certain  deduc 
tions  respecting  it.  We  have,  therefore,  our 
common  fire,  the  representative,  as  it  were,  of  the 

|  sun,  to  show  to  us  the  nature  of  heat.  But  there 
is  no  substitution  of  the  cold  of  the  earth,  within 
man's  reach,  for  the  trying  experiments  with. 
For  that  those  hardenings  and  congealings  of  snow 
which,  in  winter  and  in  cold  regions,  breathe 

!  themselves  out  into  air  from  the  globe  and  circuit 
of  the  earth,  are  plainly  warmths  and  baths,  ow 
ing  to  the  nature  of  the  first  cold  shut  up  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth  ;  so  that  the  cold,  which  is  in 
the  power  and  under  the  perception  of  men,  is 
something  like  as  if  they  had  no  other  heat  than 
that  which  emanates  from  the  sun  in  summer,  and 
in  warm  regions ;  which,  if  compared  with  the 
fire  of  a  heated  furnace,  may  be  deemed  a  refresh 
ing  coolness.  But  I  shall  take  up  less  time  upon 
those  things  that  are  pretended  on  this  subject. 
We  will  inquire,  therefore,  in  order  into  the  nature 
of  what  Telesius  has  asserted  respecting  the  ar 
rangement  of  matter  upon  which  heat  acts  ;  the 
power  of  which  is  such  as  to  advance,  impede,  or 
change  the  action  itself  of  heat.  The  ratio  of  this 
is  fourfold.  The  first  difference  is  taken  from  the 
preinexistent  or  nonpreinexistentheat ;  the  second 
from  the  abundance  or  the  scarcity  of  the  matter; 
the  third  from  the  degrees  of  the  reduction  ;  the 
fourth  from  the  closing  or  opening  of  the  body  re 
duced.  As  for  the  first,  Telesius  supposes  in  all 
entities  known  to  us,  that  there  exists  a  certain 
latent  heat,  though  not  subject  to  the  touch,  which 
heat  is  joined  with  a  new  or  overspreading  heat; 
moreover,  that  itself  is  excited  and  inflamed  by 
the  same  adventitious  heat  to  the  performing  its 
acts  even  in  its  proper  measure.  He  esteems  it  a 
considerable  proof  of  this,  that  there  is  no  one  en 
tity,  neither  metal,  stone,  water,  nor  air,  which 
does  not  acquire  warmth  by  touch;  and  also  by  the 
application  of  fire  or  of  a  warm  body.  Which 
would  not  surely  be  the  case,  unless  there  were  a 
preinexistent  heat  of  a  certain  latent  preparation 
for  a  new  and  manifest  heat.  That  even  that  ex 
cess  or  diminution,  or  facility  and  slowness,  which 
are  found  in  the  conceiving  of  heat  in  entities, 
agrees  with  the  measure  of  the  preinexistent  heat ; 
that  the  air  grows  warm  by  a  small  heat,  and  such 
as  is  quite  imperceptible  in  an  aqueous  body; 
also  that  water  is  more  easily  endued  with  warmth 
than  a  stone,  or  metal,  or  glass.  For  that  any  of 
these,  as  a  metal  or  a  stone,  should  appear  to  ac 
quire  warmth  sooner  than  water,  that  is,  only  on 
the  surface,  not  within  the  body,  because  consis 
tent  bodies  are  less  communicable  in  their  parts 
than  liquids.  That,  therefore,  the  outermost  parts 
of  a  metal  are  sooner  warmed  than  those  of  water, 
the  whole  bulk  later.  The  second  difference  is 
made  to  depend  upon  the  coacervation  and  exten 
sion  of  matter.  If  it  be  dense,  the  strength  of  the 
heat  is  more  united,  and  through  the  union  in 
creased  and  made  more  intense  ;  if,  on  the  other 
2P 


446 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


hand  it  be  looser,  the  strength  is  more  dispersed, 
and  through  the  dispersion  weakened.  That  the 
heat,  therefore,  of  unknown  metals  is  more  power 
ful  than  of  boiling  water,  nay,  than  of  flame  itself, 
unless  that  the  flame  would,  from  its  subtile  na 
ture,  pierce  more.  For  that  the  flame  of  coals  or 
of  fuel,  unless  roused  by  wind,  so  as  through  mo 
tion  to  penetrate  more  easily,  is  not  very  violent; 
nay,  that  some  flame  (as  of  spirit  of  wine,  espe 
cially  if  inflamed,  and  in  a  small  quantity  and 
dispersed)  is  of  so  mild  a  heat,  as  to  be  endura 
ble  by  the  hand.  The  third  difference,  which  is 
taken  from  the  reduction  of  matter,  is  manifold ; 
for  he  makes  seven  degrees  of  reduction,  of  which 
the  first  is  milder,  which  is  the  arrangement  of 
matter,  showing  the  body  in  some  degree  yielding 
to  greater  violence,  and  especially  susceptible  of 
extension,  in  fine,  flexible  or  ductile.  The  second 
is  softness,  when  there  is  no  need  of  greater  force, 
but  the  body  yields  even  by  a  light  impulsion  and 
to  the  touch,  or  the  hand  itself,  without  any  ap 
parent  resistance.  The  third  is  viscosity  or  tena 
city,  which  is  in  a  high  degree  the  principle  of 
fluidity.  For  a  viscous  body  seems  to  begin  to 
flow  and  go  on  at  the  contact  and  embrace  of  an 
other  body,  and  not  to  come  to  an  end  of  itself,  al 
though  it  does  not  flow  willingly  and  of  itself; 
for  the  fluid  easily  follows  itself,  but  is  more  vis 
cous  with  respect  to  another  body.  The  fourth  is 
the  fluid  itself,  when  the  body  partaking  of  the 
interior  spirit  is  in  willing  motion  and  follows  it 
self,  and  is  not  easily  bounded  or  brought  to  a 
stand.  The  fifth  is  vapour,  when  a  body  is  atte 
nuated  till  it  becomes  intangible,  which  yields, 
flows,  undulates,  and  becomes  tremulous,  with  a 
greater  agility  and  mobility.  The  sixth  is  breath 
ing,  which  is  a  certain  vapour  more  concocted, 
and  matured,  and  subdued,  so  as  to  be  capable  of 
receiving  the  nature  of  fire.  The  seventh  is  the 
air  itself,  but  Telesius  contends  that  the  air  is  en 
dued  with  a  native  heat,  and  that  considerable  and 
very  powerful,  for  that  in  the  coldest  regions  the 
air  is  never  congealed  or  condensed  :  and  that  an 
other  proof  of  this  is,  that  all  air  that  is  confined 
and  separated  from  the  main  body  of  air,  and  left 
to  itself,  evidently  collects  heat,  as  in  wool  and 
fibrous  substances ;  and  that  the  air  in  confined 
situations  is  found  to  suffocate  respiration,  which 
is  the  consequence  of  its  heat ;  and  that  this  arises 
from  the  confined  air  beginning  to  exert  its  owTn 
nature,  since  the  air  out  of  doors,  and  under  the 
open  sky,  is  cooled  by  the  cold  which  the  globe 
of  the  earth  is  constantly  emitting  and  exhaling  ; 
and  also  that  our  common  air  hath  a  certain  celestial 
property,  since  it  in  some  degree  partakes  of  light ; 
which  appears  from  the  power  of  those  animals 
which  can  see  in  the  night  and  in  dark  places. 
And  such,  according  to  Telesius,  is  the  order  of 
the  arrangement  of  matter,  in  the  means,  to 
wit,  since  the  extremes,  although  on  one  side 
hard  bodies,  and  on  the  other  fire  itself,  are  not 


reckoned  as  the  limits  of  the  means.  But,  be 
sides  these  simple  degrees,  he  searches  out  a 
great  diversity  in  the  arrangement  of  matter 
according  to  the  similarity  or  dissimilarity  of  the 
body,  since  portions  of  matter  compounded  and 
united  in  one  body  can  be  referred  equally  either 
to  one  of  the  beforementioned  degrees,  or  une 
qually  to  different.  For  that  a  very  great  differ 
ence  follows  thence  in  the  operation  of  heat. 
And  that  so  a  fourth  difference  is  necessarily 
brought  in  from  the  nature  and  even  position  of  a 
body  upon  which  heat  acts,  whether  close  or 
porous  and  open.  For  when  heat  operates  in  an 
open  and  exposed  situation,  it  does  so  in  order 
and  severally,  by  attenuating  and  at  the  same 
time  by  drawing  out  and  separating.  But  when 
in  a  confined  and  compact  body,  it  operates  in  the 
mass,  not  putting  out  any  heat,  but  by  the  new 
and  the  old  heat  uniting  and  conspiring,  whence 
it  follows  that  it  causes  more  powerful,  intrinsic, 
and  subtle  alterations  and  reductions.  But  more 
will  be  said  on  this  subject  when  we  come  to 
treat  of  the  method  of  reduction.  But  in  the 
meanwhile  Telesius  is  fully  occupied,  and  is 
strangely  put  to  it  to  account  for  the  method  of 
the  divorce  and  separation  of  their  primary  con 
natural  qualities,  heat,  light,  tenuity,  and  mobili 
ty,  and  the  four  opposite  qualities,  as  they  happen 
to  be  in  bodies:  since  some  bodies  are  found  to 
be  warm  or  admirably  prepared  to  receive  warmth, 
and  yet  to  be  at  the  same  time  dense,  motionless, 
and  dark ;  others  are  found  to  be  subtle,  mobile, 
lucid,  or  white,  and  yet  cold  ;  and  so  of  the  rest, 
one  certain  quality,  to  wit,  existing  in  some  things, 
whilst  the  remaining  qualities  are  not  in  accord 
ance  with  it;  but  others  participate  in  two  of 
these  natures,  but  are  without  other  two,  by  a 
very  singular  exchange  and  intercourse.  And 
this  part  Telesius  does  not  skilfully  manage,  but 
carries  himself  like  his  opponents ;  who  making 
their  conjectures  before  their  experiments,  when 
they  come  to  the  particular  subjects  themselves, 
abuse  their  talents  and  their  subjects,  and  wretch 
edly  pervert  both,  and  are  yet  admirably  dexter 
ous  and  successful,  (if  you  believe  their  own 
words,)  in  whatever  way  they  explain  them 
selves.  But  he  concludes  the  subject  in  despair, 
intimating  that  although  the  quantity  and  co 
piousness  of  heat  and  the  arrangement  of  the 
matter  can  be  marked  out  in  a  vague  manner  and 
in  the  mass,  that  yet  their  accurate  and  exact 
proportions  and  their  distinct  measures  are  out  of 
the  reach  of  human  inquiry :  yet  so  that  (by  what 
manner  is  placed  among  the  things  that  cannot 
be  settled)  the  diversity  of  the  disposition  of 
matter  can  be  better  known  than  the  strength  and 
degrees  of  heat,  and  that  yet  in  these  very  things 
is  placed  (if  anywhere)  the  highest  point  ol 
human  knowledge  and  power.  But  after  a  plain 
acknowledgment  of  despair,  he  still  goes  furthei 
than  mere  wishes  and  prayers  for  more  certainty 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


447 


For  so  he  said  ;  "  What  heat  moreover  or  quanti 
ty,  that  is,  what  strength  of  heat,  and  what 
quantity  of  it,  that  is  which  turns,  and  how  it 
turns  the  earth,  and  those  things  that  are  entities 
into  such  bodies  as  itself,  is  not  to  be  inquired 
into,  since  we  have  no  means  of  coming  to  this 
knowledge.  For  on  what  principle  shall  it  be 
allowed  us  to  distribute  the  strength  of  heat,  and 
heat  itself,  as  it  were,  into  degrees,  or  to  perceive 
clearly  the  copiousness  and  quantity  of  matter 
which  is  endowed  with  it,  and  to  assign  a  certain 
quantity,  disposition,  and  certain  actions  of  mat 
ter  to  certain  and  determinate  powers  and  co 
piousness  of  heat,  or,  on  the  contrary,  to  assign 
a  fixed  and  certain  copiousness  of  heat  to  a 
certain  quantity  and  certain  actions  of  matter : 
O,  that  this  might  be  obtained  by  those  who 
have  both  time  and  intellect  at  command  adequate 
to  this  investigation,  and  who  could,  in  the 
possession  of  the  most  perfect  tranquillity,  search 
into  nature;  that  mankind  might  not  only  become 
then  masters  of  every  kind  of  knowledge,  but 
almost  of  every  kind  of  power."  This,  indeed, 
is  said  with  more  honesty  than  is  found  in  his 
opponents,  who,  if  they  cannot  attain  their  ob 
jects,  affirm  that  their  attainment  is  impossible 
from  the  nature  of  the  art  or  object  itself,  so  that 
no  art  can  be  condemned,  since  itself  is  both 
pleader  and  judge.  There  remains  that  which 
was  the  third,  namely,  the  method  of  reduction. 
This  Telesius  despatches  by  a  threefold  sentence. 
The  first  is  that  which  we  noticed  by  the  way 
before,  that  no  symbolization  is  understood  (as  in 
the  doctrine  of  the  Peripatetics)  through  which 
substances,  by  an  agreement,  as  it  were,  are 
nourished,  and  act  in  unison :  for  that  all  genera 
tion,  and  every  effect  in  a  natural  body,  is  the 
result  of  victory  and  predominance,  not  of  agree 
ment  or  treaty.  This,  indeed,  is  no  new  dogma, 
since  Aristotle  remarked  it  in  the  doctrine  of 
Empedocles ;  for  that  Empedocles,  indeed,  though 
he  maintains  contention  and  amity  to  be  the 
efficient  principles  of  things,  yet  in  his  explica 
tions  of  causes  generally  makes  use  of  their 
contention,  and  seems  to  forget  their  amity.  The 
second  is,  that  heat  by  its  own  proper  action 
constantly  changes  a  substance  into  moisture, 
and  that  dryness  by  no  means  coalesces  with 
heat,  nor  moisture  with  cold ;  for  that  to  attenuate 
and  to  moisten  is  the  same,  and  that  what  is 
extremely  thin  is  also  extremely  moist ;  if  through 
humid  be  understood  that  which  very  easily 
yields,  is  divided  into  parts,  again  recovers  itself, 
and  is  with  difficuty  limited  or  made  to  settle. 
All  which  are  more  the  properties  of  fire  than  of 
air,  which  is  for  the  most  part  moist,  according 
to  the  Peripatetics ;  and  that  so  heat  continually 
draws,  feeds  upon,  extends,  inserts,  and  generates 
humidity;  that  cold,  on  the  contrary,  acts  alto 
gether  on  dryness,  concretion,  and  hardness: 


where  Aristotle  deems  him  deficient  in  acuteness, 
and  inconsistent,  and  impatient  of  the  decisions 
of  experience,  in  joining  heat  with  dryness. 
For  that  the  drying  of  substances  by  heat  is 
accidental  merely  ;  namely  in  a  dissimilar  body, 
and  that  is  composed  of  some  parts  more  thick, 
of  others  more  thin,  by  drawing  out,  and  (by 
means  of  attenuation)  giving  vent  to  the  thinner 
part,  till  the  thicker  part  is  forced  thence,  and 
compresses  itself  more;  which  thicker  part, 
nevertheless,  if  a  rather  violent  heat  comes,  flows 
also  of  itself,  as  is  evident  in  bricks :  for,  in  the 
first  place,  heat,  not  so  fervent,  makes  the  loam 
into  bricks  on  the  thinner  part  having  evaporated  ; 
but  a  more  powerful  heat  even  dissolves  that 
bricky  substance  into  glass.  And  these  two 
dogmata  can  be  considered  as  the  answers  to 
errors ;  the  third  plainly  affirms,  and  not  only  so, 
but  clearly  distinguishes  the  method  of  reduction. 
This  is  twofold,  either  by  rejection  or  conversion  : 
and  one  or  other  of  these  modes  is  brought  out 
into  act,  according  to  the  power  of  the  heat,  and 
the  arrangement  of  matter.  But  two  canons 
belong  to  this  subject.  The  one  is,  that  when 
heat  and  cold  concur  in  vast  bulk,  and,  as  it  were, 
with  any  even  force,  an  ejection  follows.  For 
entities,  like  armies,  are  moved  from  their  place 
and  thrust  forward.  But  when  it  takes  place  in 
a  less  quantity,  then  a  conversion  follows :  for 
the  entities  are  destroyed,  and  lose  rather  their 
nature  than  their  place.  There  is  a  remarkable 
exemplification  of  this  in  the  higher  regions  of 
the  air,  which,  although  they  come  nearer  to  the 
celestial  heat,  are  yet  found  colder  than  the  con 
fines  of  the  earth.  For  in  those  regions,  after 
arriving  nearer  to  the  seat  of  the  prime  heat,  the 
heat,  collecting  itself,  at  once  casts  down,  and 
thrusts  off,  and  hinders  from  approach  the  whole 
power  of  the  cold  which  had  ascended.  He 
saith  that  the  same  thing,  moreover,  may  happen, 
that  there  may  be  through  the  depths  of  the 
earth  greater  heats  than  on  the  surface ;  to  wit, 
after  the  approach  to  the  seat  of  the  prime 
cold,  which  rousing  itself  throws  off  the  heat 
with  great  force,  and  avoids  it,  and  returns  into 
its  own  nature.  The  second  canon  is,  that  in  an 
open  body  ejection  in  a  close  conversion  fol 
lows.  He  asserts  that  this  is  notably  instanced 
in  closed  vessels,  where  the  emission  of  an 
attenuated  body  (which  we  commonly  call  spirit) 
being  restrained,  begets  deep  and  intrinsical 
alterations  and  fermentations  in  bodies;  but 
that  this  takes  place  in  like  manner  when  a 
body,  from  its  parts  being  compacted,  is  to 
itself  like  a  closed  vessel.  Such  are  the  opi 
nions  of  Telesius,  and,  perhaps,  of  Parme- 
nides,  on  the  elements  of  things,  excepting 
that  Telesius  added,  of  his  o\vn  accord,  Hyle, 
through  his  being  led  astray  by  the  Peripatetic 
notions. 


448 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


And  the  opinions  of  Telesius  might,  indeed, 
have  an  air  of  probability,  if  man  were  taken  out 
of  nature  together  with  the  mechanical  arts  which 
1ry  matter,  and  if  we  simply  looked  to  the  fabric 
of  the  world.  For  it  is  a  kind  of  pastoral  phi 
losophy,  which  tranquilly  and,  as  it  were,  at  ease 
contemplates  the  world.  For,  indeed,  he  is  not 
amiss  in  laying  down  the  mundane  system,  but 
.niserably  fails  upon  the  subject  of  the  elements. 
And  there  is,  indeed,  in  his  system  itself,  a  great 
failure,  in  its  being  supposed  capable  of  an  eternal 
nature,  the  idea  of  a  chaos  and  the  mutations  of 
the  universal  scheme  of  things  being  altogether 
omitted.  For  that  philosophy,  whether  of  Tele 
sius  or  of  the  Peripatetics,  or  any  other  which  so 
prepares  and  furnishes  its  system  as  not  to  derive 
it  from  chaos,  is  evidently  of  slight  foundation, 
and  altogether  conceived  from  the  narrowness  of 
human  imagination.  For,  so  in  entire  accord 
ance  with  sense  doth  the  philosopher  assert  the 
eternity  of  matter,  and  deny  that  of  the  world, 
(as  the  world  appears  to  us,)  which  was  the  opi 
nion  of  the  wisest  ancients,  and  to  which  opinion 
Democritus  seems  to  have  approached.  And  this 
is  also  the  testimony  of  Scripture  ;  but  with  this 
great  difference,  that  the  Scriptures  derive  the 
origin  of  matter  from  God,  the  philosophers  from 
itself.  For,  we  gather  from  our  faith  three  dog 
mas  on  this  point;  first,  that  matter  was  formed 
from  nothing ;  secondly,  that  the  production 
of  the  system  was  through  the  word  of  Om 
nipotence,  and  not  that  matter  endued  itself 
with  form  and  of  itself  came  forth  from  chaos ; 
thirdly,  that  before  the  fall  that  form  was  the  best 
of  those  which  matter  (such  as  it  was  created) 
could  take :  but  to  none  of  these  dogmas  could 
these  philosophical  theories  ascend.  For  they 
shudder  at  the  thoughts  of  a  creation  from  nothing, 
and  deem  that  this  form  of  things  was  produced 
after  many  windings  and  attempts  of  matter,  nor 
are  they  troubled  as  to  conceiving  of  the  most 
excellent  kind  of  system,  since  theirs  is  asserted 
to  be  liable  to  decline  and  to  change.  We  must, 
then,  rest  upon  the  decisions  of  faith  and  upon  its 
supports.  But,  perhaps,  we  need  not  inquire 
whether  that  created  matter,  after  a  long  course 
of  ages,  from  the  power  at  first  put  into  it  could 
gather  and  change  itself  into  that  most  excellent 
form,  (which,  leaving  these  windings,  it  did  im 
mediately  at  the  command  of  the  Divine  word.) 
For,  the  representation  of  time  and  the  formation 
of  a  substance  are  equally  miraculous  effects  of 
the  same  omnipotence.  But  the  Divine  Nature 
seems  to  have  designed  glorifying  itself  equally 
in  either  emanation:  first,  by  omnipotently  work 
ing  upon  ens  and  matter  by  creating  substance 
from  nothing;  secondly,  upon  motion  and  time, 
oy  anticipating  the  order  of  nature,  and  accele 
rating  the  process  of  substance.  But  these  per 
tain  to  the  parable  of  heaven,  where  wo  will 
discuss  more  fully  what  we  are  now  just  inti 


mating;  and  so  we  go  on  to  the  elements  of 
Telesius.  And  here  I  wish  it  had  been  univer 
sally  and  at  once  agreed  upon,  not  to  fetch  entities 
out  of  nonentities,  and  elements  out  of  nonele- 
ments,  and  so  to  fall  into  manifest  contradiction. 
But  an  abstract  element  is  not  an  ens;  again,  a 
mortal  entity  is  not  an  element ;  so  that  a  neces 
sity  plainly  invincible  drives  men  (if  they  would 
be  consistent)  to  the  idea  of  an  atom,  which  is  a 
true  ens,  having  matter,  form,  dimension,  place, 
antetype,  motion,  and  emanation.  It  at  the  same 
time  remains  unshaken  and  eternal  during  the 
dissolution  of  all  natural  bodies.  For,  since 
there  are  so  many  and  various  corruptions  taking 
place  in  greater  bodies,  it  is  requisite  that  what 
remains  as  the  centre  immutable,  should  either 
be  a  somewhat  potential  or  very  small.  But  it  is 
not  potential,  for  the  first  potential  cannot  be  like 
the  rest  which  are  potential,  which  are  one  thing 
in  act,  another  thing  in  power.  But  it  is  requisite 
that  it  should  be  plainly  abstract,  since  it  refuses 
all  act  and  contains  all  power.  And  so,  it  re 
mains  that  this  immutable  should  be  of  the  small 
est  size;  unless,  perchance,  some  one  will  assert 
that  no  elements  exist,  but  that  one  thing  serves 
for  elements  to  another,  that,  the  law  and  order  of 
mutation  are  things  constant  and  eternal,  that  the 
essence  itself  is  inconstant  and  mutable.  And  it 
would,  indeed,  be  better  plainly  to  make  an  asser 
tion  of  this  sort,  than,  in  laying  down  seme 
eternal  principle,  to  fall  into  the  still  greater  ab 
surdity  of  making  that  principle  a  fantastic  one. 
For,  that  first  method  seems  to  have  some  design 
and  end,  that  things  should  be  changed  into  the 
world,  but  this,  none,  which,  for  entities,  adopts 
mere  notions  and  mental  abstractions.  And  yet. 
the  impossibility  of  this  being  the  case  I  shall 
hereafter  show.  Yet,  his  Hyk  pleased  Telesius, 
which  he  transferred  from  a  later  age  after  the 
birth  of  Parmenides'  philosophy.  But  Telesius 
instituted  an  evidently  unaccountable  and  une 
qual  contest  between  his  elements  in  action, 
whether  you  consider  their  forces  or  their  kind 
of  war.  For,  as  to  their  forces,  the  earth  is  alone, 
but  the  heaven  has  a  great  army  ;  the  earth  is  as  a 
little  speck,  the  heaven  hath  its  immense  regions. 
Nor  can  it  relieve  this  difficulty  that  the  earth  and 
its  connaturals  are  asserted  to  be  of  the  most  com 
pact  matter,  and  the  heaven  and  the  ethereal  sub 
stances,  on  the  other  hand,  of  the  most  expanded. 
For  although  this  indeed  is  a  very  essential  differ 
ence,  yet  it  will  by  no  means  equalize  the  forces 
even  with  so  great  an  intermediate  space.  But  the 
strength  of  the  opinion  of  Telesius  turns  chiefly 
upon  this,  if  an  equal  portion,  as  it  were,  of  Hyk 
(according  to  the  quantum,  not  according  to  the 
expansion)  be  assigned  to  both  acting  elements, 
so  that  the  things  can  last,  and  the  system  be  made 
and  established.  For  whoever  will  think  with 
Telesius  on  other  points,  and  will  receive  the  sur 
passing  power  of  Hyle,  especially  in  so  great  an 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


449 


excess,  in  one  principle  compared  with  another, 
will  involve  himself  in  an  inextricable  difficulty. 
In  the  dialogue,  therefore,  of  Plutarch,  "  De  facie 
in  orbe  lunae,"  this  consideration  is  very  wisely 
proposed,  that  it  is  improbable  that  nature  in  the 
dispersion  of  matter  shut  up  the  properties  of  a 
compact  body  into  the  sole  globe  of  the  earth, 
when  there  were  in  the  mean  time  so  many  revolv 
ing  bodies  in  the  heavens.  Yet  Gilbertus  in 
dulged  to  such  excess  in  this  imagination  as  to 
assert  that  not  only  the  earth  and  the  moon,  but 
many  other  solid  and  opaque  globes  were  scat 
tered  amongst  the  bodies  of  light  through  the  ex 
panse  of  heaven.  Nay,  the  Peripatetics  them 
selves,  after  they  had  made  the  heavens  eternal 
through  their  own  condition,  and  things  sublunary 
by  succession  and  renovation,  did  not  imagine  that 
they  had  sufficiently  guarded  their  tenet  till  they 
assigned  to  the  elements  as  it  were  equal  portions 
of  matter.  For  this  is  that  which  they  fable  con 
cerning  that  tenfold  portion  by  which  the  surround 
ing  element  is  superior  to  the  inner  element.  But 
I  do  not  bring  these  things  forward,  because  none 
of  them  are  to  my  mind,  but  to  show  that  it  is 
perfectly  improbable  and  unnatural  to  maintain 
with  Telesius  that  the  earth  is  a  principle  acting 
in  contrariety  to  the  heavens.  And  the  difficulty 
will  be  greatly  increased  if  besides  the  quantum 
itself  we  consider  the  unequal  influence  and  action 
of  the  heaven  and  the  earth.  For  the  condition 
of  contest  must  be  lost  altogether,  if  the  attack  of 
the  hostile  weapons  be  borne  by  the  one  side,  but 
do  not  reach  the  other,  but  fall  first.  But  it  is  plain 
that  the  power  of  the  sun  is  projected  toward  the 
earth,  but  none  can  promise  that  the  influence  of 
the  earth  ever  reaches  the  sun.  For  of  all  the  in 
fluences  of  nature,  the  influence  of  light  and  shade 
is  conveyed  to  the  greatest  distance  and  is  cir- 
cumfused  with  the  greatest  space  or  orbit.  But 
the  shade  of  the  earth  is  bounded  on  this  side  the 
sun,  whilst  the  light  of  the  sun,  if  the  earth  were 
transparent,  could  beat  across  the  globe  of  the 
earth.  Heat  and  cold,  in  particular,  (of  which  we 
are  now  treating,)  are  never  found  to  overcome  so 
great  a  space  in  the  conveyance  of  their  influence, 
as  light  and  shade.  Therefore,  if  the  shade  of  the 
earth  does  not  reach  the  sun,  much  less  is  it  in 
accordance  with  this  to  suppose  that  the  cold  of 
the  earth  travels  thither.  If  indeed  the  sun  and 
heat  acted  upon  certain  mediate  bodies,  whether 
the  influence  of  a  contrary  principle  could  not 
ascend,  or  by  any  means  hinder  their  action,  it  is 
requisite  that  the  sun  and  heat  should  occupy 
whatever  are  the  nearest  bodies  to  them,  and  then 
should  join  also  the  more  remote,  so  that  in  time 
the  conflagration  of  Heraclitus  should  take  place 
by  the  solar  and  celestial  nature  gradually  de 
scending,  and  making  a  nearer  approach  to  the 
earth  and  its  confines.  Nor  does  this  well  har 
monize,  that  that  power  of  imparting  and  multi 
plying  its  own  nature  and  of  turning  other  things 
VOL.  L— 5" 


into  itself,  which  Telesius  attributes  to  the  ele 
ments,  should  not  operate  on  similar  equally  or 
more  than  opposite  bodies ;  so  that  the  heaven 
ought  already  to  be  lit  up  and  the  stars  to  be  en 
gaged  in  mutual  conflict.  But  to  come  nearer  the 
point,  those  four  demonstrations  ought  to  be  set 
forth,  which  even  singly,  much  more  conjointly, 
can  evidently  subvert  the  philosophy  of  Telesius 
respecting  the  elements.  Of  these,  the  first  is  that 
there  are  found  in  things  some  actions  and  effects, 
even  of  things  the  most  potent  and  the  most  wide 
ly  diffused,  which  cannot  by  any  means  be  referred 
to  heat  and  cold.  The  second  is,  that  there  are 
found  some  natures  of  which  heat  and  cold  are  the 
consequences  and  effects,  and  that  not  through  the 
excitation  of  preinexistent  heat,  or  through  the 
application  of  heat  approximating  to  them,  but 
through  those  things  by  which  heat  and  cold  are 
infused  and  generated  in  their  first  esse.  The 
ground  of  an  element,  therefore,  fails  in  either 
side  in  them,  both  because  there  is  a  something 
not  from  them,  and  because  themselves  are  from 
something.  The  third  is,  that  even  those  which 
derive  their  origin  from  heat  and  cold,  (which  cer 
tainly  are  very  many,)  yet  proceed  from  them  as 
from  an  efficient  and  organs,  not  as  from  their 
proper  and  nearest  source.  Fourthly,  that  that 
conjugation  of  the  four  connaturals  is  altogether 
blended  and  confused.  Therefore  I  will  speak  of 
these  singly.  But  some  may  think  the  time  mis 
spent  in  so  minute  an  examination  of  the  philoso 
phy  of  Telesius,  a  philosopher  of  no  great  popu 
larity  or  celebrity.  But  the  fastidiousness  of  such 
objectors  I  dismiss.  I  have  a  favourable  opinion 
of  Telesius,  and  recognise  in  him  a  lover  of  truth, 
a  profitable  servant  of  science,  a  reformer  of  some 
tenets,  and  the  first  indeed  of  the  moderns.  Nor 
have  I  to  do  with  him  so  much  as  Telesius  as  in 
his  character  of  restorer  of  the  philosophy  of  Par- 
menides,  and  as  such  he  is  entitled  to  great  regard. 
But  my  chief  reason  for  so  largely  discussing  this 
part  of  our  subject  is,  that  in  Telesius,  who  is  the 
first  who  meets  our  view,  we  find  occasion  to 
consider  very  many  subjects  which  can  be  trans 
ferred,  as  replies  to  following  sects,  (of  whom  we 
shall  hereafter  speak,)  to  avoid  repetition.  For 
there  are  fibres  of  errors,  (though  of  different 
kinds,)  wonderfully  complicated,  which  can  yet 
in  many  instances  be  cut  away  by  one  answer. 
But  as  we  began  to  say,  we  must  see  what  kind 
of  influences  and  actions  are  found  in  things  which 
cannot  by  any  concord  of  things  or  violence  of 
ingenuity  be  referred  to  heat  and  cold.  We  must 
assume,  then,  in  the  first  place,  what  is  granted  by 
Telesius,  that  the  sum  of  matter  remains  eternally 
the  same,  without  increase  or  diminution.  This 
property,  by  which  matter  preserves  and  sustains 
itself,  he  transmits  as  passive,  and  as  it  were  per 
taining  more  to  the  measure  of  quantity  than  to 
form  and  action,  as  if  there  were  no  need  of reck- 
oniricr  it  to  heat  or  cold,  which  are  considered  the 


450 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


sources  of  acting  forms  only  and  influences,  for 
that  matter  is  not  simply  but  altogether  destitute 
of  active  influence.     And  these  assertions  flow 
from  an  incredible  error,  unless  the  miracle  be  re 
moved  by  its  having  been  an  inveterate  and  gene 
ral  opinion.    For  there  is  scarcely  any  error  similar 
than  that  a  person  should  not  deem  the  active  in 
fluence  that  virtue  infused  into  matter,  (through 
which  it  is  kept  from  decay,  so  that  the  very  least 
portion  of  matter  is  not  buried  in  the  whole  bulk 
of  the  world,  nor  destroyed  by  the  power  of  all 
the  active  influences,  or  in  any  way  annihilated, 
and  can  be  reduced  to  order ;  nay,  can  occupy  a 
portion  of  space  and  preserve  resistance  with  im 
penetrable  dimension,  and  itself  by  turns  be  capa 
ble  of  some  action,  and  not  forsake  itself.)    When, 
•'in  the  contrary,  it  is  by  far  the  most  potent  of  all 
influences,  and  evidently  insuperable,  and,  as  it 
tvere,  a  mere  fate  and  necessity.     Yet  this  virtue 
Telesins  does  not  attempt  to  refer  to  heat  or  cold. 
And  rightly  so :  for  neither  do  fire  or  numbness 
and  congelation  add  or  detract  any  thing  from  it 
nor  have  any  power  over  it,  when  it  yet  meanwhile 
flourishes  in  the  sun,  at  the  centre  of  the  earth, 
and  everywhere.     But  he  seems  to  fail,  in  that 
lie  recognises  a  certain  and  defined   bulk  of  mat 
ter,  is  blind  to  that  influence  which  should  defend 
itself  and  preserve  itself  in  its  several  parts,  and 
(as  it  were,  be  clouded  in  the  darkest  shades  of 
the  Peripatetics)  puts  that  in  the  place  of  an  ac 
cessory,  when  it  is  mainly  the  principal,  poising 
its  own  body,  removing  another,  solid  and  ada 
mantine   in   itself,  and  whence   emanate  by  an 
inviolable  authority  the  decrees  of  the  possible  and 
the  impossible.     In  the  same  mariner  the  vulgar 
school  puerilely  catches  at  it  with   an  easy  grasp 
of  words,  imagining  that  the  judgment  is  satisfied 
by  making  a  canon  of  the  impossibility  of  two 
bodies  occupying  the  same  space,  but  does  not 
take  into  actual  and  full  consideration  that  influ 
ence  and  the  measure  of  which  we  speak ;  over 
looking  how  much  depends  upon  it,  and  how  great 
a  light  would  thence   be  thrown  upon   science. 
But  to  our  point,  that  influence,  whatever  is  its 
nature,  is  not  comprehended  in  the  elements  of 
Telesius.     We  must  now  pass  to  that  influence 
itself,  which  is,  as  it  were,  the  antistrophe  to  this 
former,  that  namely  which  preserves  the  connexion 
of  matter.     For  as  matter  will  not  suffer  itself  to 
be  overwhelmed  and  perish  by  matter,  so  neither 
can  it  be  separated  from  matter.     And  yet  it  is 
very  doubtful  whether  this  law  of  nature  is  equally 
peremptory  with  that  other. 

But  Telesius  like  Democritus  supposed  a 
vacuum  heaped  together  and  unbounded,  that 
each  ens  singly  might  lay  down  its  contiguous 
ens,  and  sometimes  desert  it  involuntarily  and 
with  difficulty,  (as  they  say,)  but  with  a  greater 
and  a  subuued  violence,  and  he  endeavoured  to 
demonstrate  this  by  sundry  experiments,  adducing 
especially  those  things  which  are  cited  here  and 


|  there  for  the  denying  and  refuting  of  a  vacuum, 
and  drawing  out  and  enlarging  these  in  such  a 
manner  as  that  the  ens  may  appear  to  keep  that 
contiguity  by  being  placed  in  a  certain  light 
necessity ;  but  that  if  they  were  very  much 
agitated  they  would  admit  a  vacuum ;  as  in 
water  hourglasses,  in  which  if  there  be  rather  a 
small  aperture  through  which  the  water  can 
I  descend,  they  will  want  a  spiracle  for  the  water 
to  descend  ;  but  if  a  larger  foramen  even  without 
a  spiracle,  the  water  being  incumbent  with  a 
greater  bulk  on  the  foramen,  and  in  no  way  im 
peding  the  vacuum  above,  is  carried  downwards. 
So  in  bellows,  in  which  if  you  compress  and  shut 
them  so  that  there  be  left  no  place  for  the  air  to 
glide  in,  and  you  afterward  elevate  and  expand 
them,  if  the  skin  of  the  bellows  be  slight  and 
weak,  it  will  break,  not  so  if  very  thick  and  firm  ; 
and  other  experiments  in  like  manner.  But  these 
experiments  are  neither  exactly  proved,  nor  are 
they  quite  satisfactory,  nor  conclusive  on  the 
question,  and  though  Telesius  thinks  he  adds  to 
discoveries  by  means  of  them,  and  endeavours 
after  a  more  subtle  discernment  of  what  others 
have  seen  but  confusedly,  yet  he  does  not  come 
off  equal  to  his  subject,  nor  educe  a  true  conclu 
sion,  but  fails  in  the  means :  the  misfortune, 
indeed,  of  Telesius  and  the  Peripatetics,  who  in 
looking  into  experiments  are  like  owls,  not 
through  the  inefficiency  of  their  faculties,  but 
through  the  cataracts  of  opinions  and  impatience 
of  fixed  and  full  contemplation.  But  the  very 
difficult  question  how  far  a  vacuum  is  to  be  ad 
mitted,  and  with  respect  to  what  spaces  there  can 
be  a  coition  or  separation  of  seeds,  and  what  there 
is  on  this  head  that  is  peremptory  and  invariable, 
I  leave  to  my  dissertation  on  the  vacuum.  Nor 
does  it  relate  much  to  my  present  purpose  whether 
nature  utterly  abhors  a  vacuum,  or  (as  Telesius 
imagines  himself  to  speak  more  accurately)  enti 
ties  delight  in  mutual  contact.  This  we  hold  to 
be  plain  that  whether  it  be  avoidance  of  a  vacuum 
or  inclination  to  contact  does  not  in  any  degree 
depend  on  heat  and  cold,  nor  does  Telesius  assert 
that  it  doth,  nor  can  it  be  so  ascribed  from  any  ap 
pearance  in  the  things  themselves :  since  matter 
moved  from  its  place  attracts  doubtless  other 
matter,  whether  that  be  hot  or  cold,  liquid  or  dry, 
hard  or  soft,  friendly  or  adverse,  so  that  a  warm 
would  sooner  attract  the  coldest  body  to  come  to 
it,  than  suffer  itself  to  be  disjoined  from  and 
deserted  by  every  kind  of  body.  For  the  bond  of 
matter  is  stronger  than  the  aversion  of  heat  and 
cold  :  and  the  sequacity  of  matter  has  no  respec 
to  the  diversity  of  special  forms;  and  so  thh 
influence  of  connexion  is  by  no  means  from  thos 
elements  of  heat  and  cold.  The  two  influence 
that  are  mutually  opposite  follow,  which  confe 
red  (as  may  be  seen)  this  rule  of  elements  up'  i 
beat  and  cold,  but  by  a  right  badly  explicated. 
I  mean  those  influences  through  which  entities 


FABLE  OF  CUPID. 


451 


open  and  rarefy  themselves,  dilate  and  expand  so 
as  to  occupy  a  greater  space,  and  dispose  them 
selves  into  a  more  extensive  orbit;  or,  other  hand, 
shut  up  and  condense  themselves,  so  as  to  retire 
from  the  space  they  occupied  and  betake  them 
selves  to  a  narrower  sphere.  We  must  show, 
therefore,  how  far  that  influence  hath  its  rise  in 
heat  and  cold,  and  how  far  it  dwells  apart,  and 
has  a  separate  nature  from  that  other  influence. 
And  that  is  certainly  true,  which  Telesius  affirms, 
that  rarity  and  density  are,  as  it  were,  the  pecu 
liar  works  of  heat  and  cold  ;  for  the  most  essential 
requisite,  in  respect  of  these,  is  that  the  bodies 
should  occupy  a  greater  and  a  less  space ;  but 
yet  these  dogmas  are  received  rather  confusedly  : 
for  bodies  seem  sometimes  to  migrate  from  one 
natural  site  to  another,  and  to  transfer  themselves, 
and  that  freely  and,  as  it  were,  willingly,  and 
changing  their  forms  ;  but  sometimes  they  seem 
only  driven  from  their  natural  site,  and  to  return 
to  their  accustomed  site,  their  old  form  remaining 
the  same.  And  that  progressive  influence  enter 
ing  on  a  new  site  is  commonly  determined  by 
heat  and  cold  :  but  that  other  restorative  influence 
is  not  so.  For  water  expands  itself  into  vapour 
and  air,  oil  likewise,  and  fat  substances,  into 
steam  arid  flame,  by  the  power  of  heat,  and,  if 
they  have  completely  transmigrated,  do  not  return. 
Nay,  even  the  air  itself  is  dilated  and  extended 
by  heat.  But  if  the  migration  shall  have  been 
half  full  after  the  departure  of  heat,  it  easily  falls 
back  into  itself;  so  as  that  there  are  also  some 
properties  of  heat  and  cold  in  the  restorative  in 
fluence  itself.  But  those  which,  without  any 
intervening  heat  or  violence,  are  extended  and 
divided,  even  without  any  addition  of  cold  or  sub 
traction  of  heat,  most  readily  are  returned  to  their 
former  sites  when  the  force  ceases,  -as  in  the  blow 
ing  of  a  glass  egg,  and  in  the  emptying  of  bel 
lows.  But  that  is  far  more  evident  in  solid  and 
dense  bodies.  For  if  cloth,  or  a  string  of  an  in 
strument  be  stretched,  when  the  force  is  taken 
away,  they  leap  back  with  great  swiftness,  and 
the  same  is  the  nature  of  compression.  For  the 
air,  drawn  together  and  confined  with  some  vio 
lence,  breaks  forth  with  a  considerable  effort,  and 
so  the  whole  of  that  mechanical  motion  by  which 
a  hard  is  struck  by  a  hard  body,  which  is  com 
monly  called  the  motion  of  force,  through  which 
solid  bodies  are  discharged,  and  fly  through  the 
air  or  water,  is  nothing  else  than  the  contending 
of  the  parts  of  the  discharged  body  to  free  them 
selves  from  compression.  And  yet  here  are  no 
traces  of  heat  and  cold.  Nor  can  any  one  take 
occasion  from  Telesius  to  say,  that  a  certain  por 
tion  of  heat  and  cold  is  assigned  to  each  natural 
site,  according  to  a  fixed  analogy.  And  that  it 
can  thus  happen,  that  though  there  be  no  addi 
tional  heat  or  cold,  yet  if  the  space  of  the  body  of 
matter  be  extended  or  contracted,  the  thing  would 
return  to  the  same  state,  because  more  or  less 


matter  is  laid  on  the  space  than  is  in  proportion 
to  the  heat  or  cold.  But  these  assertions,  though 
not  absolutely  absurd,  seem,  nevertheless,  like 
the  imaginations  of  men  unwilling  to  go  from 
their  first  opinions,  and  who  do  not  follow  reality 
and  nature.  For  if  heat  and  cold  be  added  to 
bodies  thus  extended  or  compressed,  and  that  in 
a  greater  degree  accords  with  the  body  itself,  as, 
if  the  stretched  cloth  be  warmed  at  the  fire,  it  will 
not  in  any  way  make  up  for  the  thing,  or  extin 
guish  the  impetus  of  recovery.  We  have,  then, 
made  it  plain  that  the  influence  of  changing  site 
does  not  depend,  in  a  remarkable  degree,  upon 
heat  and  cold,  when  yet  this  is  that  very  influence 
which  assigns  the  greatest  power  to  these  prin 
ciples.  Those  two  influences  follow  which  are 
universally  recognised,  through  which  bodies  seek 
masses  or  greater  congregations  of  tilings  conna 
tural  with  them,  in  observing  of  which,  as  of  other 
subjects,  men  cither  trifle  or  err.  For  the  vulgar 
school  thinks  it  sufficient  to  have  distinguished 
the  natural  from  the  forced  motion,  and  to  give 
out  that  heavy  bodies  are,  by  a  natural  motion, 
borne  downward  ;  light,  upward.  But  these 
speculations  are  of  very  little  help  to  philosophy. 
For  their  "  nature,"  "  art,"  "  force,"  are  only 
terms  of  terms  and  trifles.  They  should  refer 
this  motion  not  only  to  nature,  but  should  seek  in 
this  very  motion  the  particular  and  proper  bias 
and  inclination  of  the  natural  body.  For  there 
are  many  other  natural  motions,  according  to  very 
different  passive  natures  of  things  from  these. 
The  subject,  therefore,  is  to  be  laid  down  accord 
ing  to  these  differences.  Nay,  those  very  motions 
which  they  call  violent,  are  more  truly  natural 
than  that  which  they  call  natural  ;  if  that  be  more 
according  to  nature  which  is  more  powerful,  or 
even  which  is  more  of  a  universal  kind.  For 
that  motion  of  ascent  and  descent  is  not  very 
potent,  nor  even  universal,  but  as  it  were  pro 
vincial,  and  for  certain  regions,  and  even  yielding 
and  subjected  to  other  motions.  Their  sa}ring 
that  heavy  bodies  are  borne  downward,  light, 
upward,  is  no  more  than  saying  that  heavy 
are  heavy,  light,  light  bodies.  For  what  is  so 
predicated  is  assumed  from  the  very  force  of 
the  term  in  the  subject.  But  if  by  heavy  they 
mean  dense,  by  light,  rare,  they  do  not  advance 
the  subject,  only  they  lead  it  back  rather  to 
the  adjunct  and  concomitant,  than  to  the  cause. 
But  they  who  so  explain  the  bias  of  heavy  bodies 
as  to  assert  that  they  are  borne  to  the  earth's 
centre,  and  light  to  the  circumference  and  circuit 
of  heaven,  as  to  their  proper  destinations,  certainly 
advance  something,  and  hint  at  a  cause,  but  yet 
with  much  inconsideration.  For  places  are  not 
influences,  nor  is  a  body  affected  but  by  a  body, 
and  every  invitation  of  a  body  which  seems  to  be 
seat  itself,  affects  and  endeavours  a  configuration 
toward  another  body,  not  collocation  or  simple  situ, 

A.  T.  R. 


TOPICS  OF  INQUIRY, 


CONCERNING 


LIGHT   AND   THE   MATTER    OF   LIGHT. 


I.  Presence  Tables. 

WE  have  first  to  note  which  are  the  substances, 
of  whatever  kind,  that  generate  light;  as  stars, 
fiery  meteors,  flame,  wood,  metals,  and  other 
burning  bodies,  sugar  in  scraping  or  breaking  it, 
the  glowworm,  the  dews  of  salt  water  when  it  is 
agitated  or  scattered,  the  eyes  of  certain  animals, 
some  sorts  of  rotten  wood,  large  quantities  of 
snow ;  perhaps  the  air  itself  may  possess  a  weak 
light  adapted  to  the  vision  of  the  animals  which 
see  by  night;  iron  and  tin,  when  put  into  aqua 
fortis  to  be  dissolved,  boil,  and  without  any  fire 
produce  intense  heat,  but  whether  or  not  they 
give  out  any  light  demands  inquiry;  the  oil  of 
lamps  sparkles  in  very  cold  weather;  a  kind  of 
faint  light  is  sometimes  observed  in  a  clear  night 
around  a  horse  that  is  sweating ;  around  the  hair 
of  certain  persons,  there  is  seen,  though  rarely, 
also  a  faint  light,  like  a  lambent  flamule,  as 
occured  to  Lucius  Marcius  in  Spain ;  there  was 
lately  found  an  apron  of  a  certain  woman  which 
was  said  to  shine,  yet  only  when  rubbed  ;  but  it 
bad  been  dyed  in  green,  of  which  d}^e  alum  is  an 
ingredient,  and  it  rustled  somewhat  when  shining. 
Whether  alum  shines  or  not  when  scraped  or 
broken  is  matter  of  inquiry;  but,  I  suppose,  it 
requires  more  violent  breaking,  because  it  is  firmer 
than  sugar.  In  like  manner,  some  stockings 
shine  whilst  you  are  pulling  them  off,  whether 
from  sweat  or  the  dye  of  alum. 

II.  Jlbsence  Tables. 

We  must  also  observe  which  are  the  substances 
that  give  no  light,  yet  have  much  similitude  to 
such  as  do  produce  it.  Boiling  water  does  not 
give  light;  air  though  unusually  heated  does  not 
give  light;  mirrors  and  diamonds,  which  so 
strikingly  reflect  light,  give  no  light  of  their  own. 

In  this  kind  of  instances  we  have  also  to  con 
sider  diligently  the  instances  migratory,  namely, 
when  light,  as  if  transient,  is  present,  and  when 
absent.  A  burning  coal  gives  light,  but  loses  it 
instantly  when  strongly  compressed  ;  the  crystal 
line  humour  of  the  glowworm,  after  the  worm's 
death,  even  when  broken  and  divided  into  parts, 
retains  light  for  a  short  time,  which,  however, 
soon  aftei  fades  away 


III.  Table  of  Degrees. 

We  must  remark  which  sorts  of  light  are  more 
intense  and  vibrating,  which  less  :  the  flame  of 
wood  produces  a  strong  light ;  the  flame  of  spirit 
of  wine,  a  weaker;  the  flame  of  coals  when  fully 
kindled,  a  very  dim  and  scarcely  visible  light. 

IV.  Colours  of  Light. 

We  have  to  consider  the  colours  of  light,  what 
they  are,  what  not ;  some  stars  are  white,  others 
glittering,  some  red,  some  lead-coloured ;  the 
common  sorts  of  flame  are  generally  croceous, 
and  among  these  the  coruscations  from  the  sky, 
and  the  sparks  from  flint,  tend  most  to  whiteness  ; 
the  flame  of  sulphur  is  ceruleous  and  beautiful; 
but  in  some  substances  are  purple  flames.  No 
green  flames  are  observed  :  what  most  inclines 
to  greenness,  is  that  of  the  glowworm.  Neither 
are  there  any  crimson  flames  discovered  :  heated 
iron  is  red,  but  if  heated  somewhat  more  intensely, 
it  becomes  as  it  were  white. 

V.  Reflections  of  Light. 

We  have  to  observe  what  bodies  reflect  light : 
as  mirrors,  water,  polished  metals,  the  moon, 
precious  stones.  All  liquid  bodies  and  such  as 
have  very  equal  smooth  surfaces  are  somewhat 
bright;  but  brightness  is  a  certain  small  degree 
of  light. 

We  have  to  remark  attentively,  whether  or  not 
the  light  of  one  lucid  body  can  be  reflected  by 
another  lucid  body;  as  if  you  took  heated  iron  and 
opposed  it  to  the  sun's  rays.  For  the  reflections 
of  light  are  reflected  on,  yet  becoming  gradually 
feebler,  from  mirror  to  mirror. 

VI.  Multiplication  of  Light. 

The  multiplication  cf  light  must  next  be  con 
sidered  :  as  by  mirrors,  perspectives,  and  the  like, 
by  which  light  may  be  sharpened  and  thrown  to 
a  distance,  or  also  rendered  subtler  and  softer  for 
distinguishing  visible  objects;  as  you  may  see 
among  painters,  who  use  a  phial  filled  with  water 
beside  their  candle. 

Whether  all  bodies  of  any  considerable  size  do 
not  reflect  light,  must  also  he  considered.  For 
light,  as  may  be  believed,  either  goes  through  or 
is  reflected :  from  which  cause  the  moon,  though 

452 


TOPICS  OF  INQUIRY  CONCERNING  LIGHT. 


453 


it  be  an  opaque  body,  may  yet  reflect  light  by 
reason  of  its  magnitude. 

We  must  ascertain,  too,  whether  or  not  the 
aggregation  of  lucid  bodies  multiplies  light.  And 
in  regard  to  bodies  equally  lucid  there  is  no  doubt 
of  this :  but  it  remains  for  inquiry,  whether  or 
not  a  light,  which  is  evidently  overcome  and 
rendered  of  itself  invisible  by  a  greater  light, 
doth  not  yet  add  some  light.  Whatsoever  is 
bright  also  contributes  somewhat  of  light,  for  an 
apartment  is  much  lighter  when  hung  with  silk 
than  with  cloth.  Light  is  also  multiplied  by 
refraction ;  for  gems  when  cut  into  angles,  and 
glass  when  broken,  shine  much  more  than  if 
they  were  smooth. 

VII.  Modes  of  destroying  Light. 

The  modes  of  destroying  light  must  also  be 
remarked :  as  by  the  exuberance  of  greater  light, 
and  by  dense  and  opaque  mediums.  The  sun's 
rays  certainly,  falling  on  the  flame  of  a  fire,  make 
the  flame  seem  like  a  kind  of  whiter  smoke. 

VIII.  Operations  or  Effects  of  Light. 

We  have  to  consider  the  operations  or  effects 
of  light,  which,  it  seems,  are  few,  and  possess 
little  power  of  changing  bodies,  especially  solids. 
Light  above  all  things  generates  itself,  other 
qualities  sparingly.  Light  doth  certainly  in  some 
measure  attenuate  the  air,  is  grateful  to  the  spi 
rits  of  animals,  and  exhilirates  them ;  it  excites 
the  slumbering  rays  of  all  colours  and  visible 
things,  for  every  colour  is  the  broken  image  of 
light. 

IX.  Continuance  of  Light. 

The  continuance  of  light  must  be  investigated ; 
which,  as  it  appears,  is  momentary.  For  light 
doth  not  illuminate  an  apartment  more  when  it 
hath  continued  there  for  many  hours,  than  for  any 
single  moment;  which  is  not  so  in  respect  of 
heat,  &c. ;  for  the  first  portion  of  heat  remains, 
and  a  new  one  is  added  to  it.  Yet,  twilight 
is  by  some  thought  to  arise  from  the  traces  of 
the  sun. 

X.   Ways  and  Progress  of  Ligat. 

We  have  attentively  to  consider  the  ways  and 
progress  of  light.  Light  is  shed  around  on  all 
sides ;  but  it  remains  for  inquiry  whether  it  at  the 
same  time  ascends  a  little,  or  is  equally  shed 
around,  upwards,  and  downwards.  The  light  itself 
generates  light  everywhere  around  it;  so  that 
when  the  body  of  light,  on  interposing  a  screen, 
is  not  discerned,  yet  the  light  itself  illuminates 
every  thing  around,  except  the  objects  which  fall 
within  the  shadow  of  the  screen :  these,  however, 
receive  some  light  from  the  light  which  is  thrown 
around ;  for  any  thing  within  the  shadow  of  the 
screen  can  be  discerned  much  better  than  if  no 


light  at  all  were  present.  Thus  the  visible  body 
of  any  lucid  object,  and  the  light  itself,  seem  to 
be  things  different.  Light  doth  not  penetrate 
bodies  which  are  fibrous  and  of  unequal  structure ; 
but  yet  is  not  impeded  by  the  solid  hardness  of  a 
substance,  as  you  shall  see  in  glass  and  the  like. 
Thus  the  straight  line  and  the  pores  which  are 
not  transverse,  alone  seem  to  transmit  light.  The 
best  conductor  of  light  is  air,  which  conveys  light 
the  better  the  purer  it  is.  It  remains  for  inquiry 
whether  or  not  light  is  carried  through  the  body 
of  the  air.  Sounds  certainly  we  see  carried  by 
winds,  so  that  they  may  be  heard  farther  when 
going  with  the  wind  than  against  it.  But  it 
remains  for  inquiry  whether  or  not  any  thing  of 
the  kind  takes  place  with  light. 

XI.  Transparency  of  Lucid  Bodies. 

We  must  also  inquire  respecting  the  transpa 
rency  of  lucid  bodies.  The  wick  of  a  candle  is 
seen  within  the  flame ;  but  through  larger  flames 
objects  reach  not  the  sight.  But  again,  all  trans 
parency  is  lost  on  heating  any  body,  as  may  be 
seen  in  glass,  which  is  no  longer  transparent 
when  heated.  The  substance  of  air  is  transpa 
rent,  also  of  water ;  yet,  these  two  transparent 
substances  when  mixed,  as  in  snow  or  foam,  are 
no  longer  transparent,  but  acquire  a  certain  light 
of  their  own. 

XII.  Cognations  and  Hostilities  of  Light. 

The  cognations,  and  also  the  hostilities  of  light 
must  be  investigated.  Light,  as  far  as  regards 
its  production,  has  most  of  all  cognation  with 
three  things,  heat,  tenuity,  and  motion.  We  must, 
therefore,  consider  the  marriages  and  divorces  of 
these  three  with  light,  also  the  degrees  of  these 
same  marriages  and  divorces.  The  flame  of  spirit 
of  wine  or  of  an  ignis  fatuus,  has  a  much  feebler 
heat  than  red-hot  iron,  but  a  stronger  light. 
Glowworms,  and  the  dews  of  salt  water,  and 
many  of  the  things  which  we  mentioned,  throw 
out  light,  yet  are  not  hot  to  the  touch.  Also 
burning  metals  are  not  subtile  bodies,  but  yet  they 
have  an  ardent  heat.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  air 
is  one  of  the  subtlest  bodies,  yet  it  is  void  of 
light ;  again,  this  same  air,  and  also  winds, 
though  rapid  in  motion,  afford  no  light.  But,  on 
the  other  hand,  burning  metals  do  not  lay  aside 
their  sluggish  motion,  nevertheless  vibrate  light. 

But  in  the  cognations  of  light,  which  have  no 
relation  to  its  production,  but  only  to  its  progres 
sion,  nothing  is  so  much  allied  to  it  as  sound. 
To  the  sympathies  and  disagreements  of  the  two 
we  must  therefore  strictly  direct  our  attention. 

In  the  following  they  agree :  both  light  and 
sound  are  diffused  around  on  all  sides.     Light 
and    sound    are    conveyed    through  very  largo 
spaces ;  but  light  more  swiftly,  as  we  see  in  can 
nons,  where  the  light  is  sooner  discerned  than  the 


454 


APHORISMS. 


sound  is  heard,  although  the  flame  follows  after.  |  from  its  nearness,  doth  also  somewhat  illustrate 
Both  light  and  sound  undergo  the  subtlest  dis-   the  air  behind  the  screen.     But  a  sound  excited 


tinctions ;  as  sounds  in  words  articulate,  and 
light  in  the  images  of  all  visible  objects.  Light 
and  sound  produce,  or  generate  almost  nothing, 
except  in  the  senses  and  spirits  of  animals.  Light 
and  sound  are  easily  generated,  and  soon  fade 
away.  For  there  is  no  cause  why  any  one  should 
conceive  that  the  sound,  which  continues  for 
some  time  after  a  bell  or  chord  has  been  struck, 
is  produced  at  the  moment  of  percussion ;  because, 
if  you  touch  the  bell  or  chord,  the  sound  instantly 
ceases,  from  which  it  is  evident,  that  the  continu 
ance  of  the  sound  is  created  by  succession.  One 
light  is  destroyed  by  a  greater,  as  one  sound  by  a 
greater,  &c.  But  light  and  sound  differ,  in  that 
light,  as  observed,  is  more  rapid  than  sound,  and 
goes  over  larger  spaces :  whether  or  not  light  is 
conveyed  in  the  body  of  the  air,  in  the  same  man 
ner  as  sound,  is  uncertain :  light  proceeds  in 
straight  lines  only,  but  sound  in  crooked  lines, 
and  in  all  directions.  For  where  any  thing  is 
discerned  in  the  shadow  of  a  screen,  there  is  no 
cause  to  think  that  the  light  penetrates  the  screen, 
but  only  that  it  illuminates  the  air  around,  which, 


on  one  side  of  a  wall  is  heard  on  the  other  side 
not  much  weaker.  Sound  also  is  heard  within 
the  septa  of  solid  bodies,  though  fainter,  as  in  the 
case  of  sounds  within  bloodstones  ;  or  when 
bodies  are  struck  under  water.  But  light  is  not 
at  all  visible  in  a  solid,  opaque  body,  which  is 
close  on  all  sides. 

Light  penetrates  deeper  than  sound,  as  at  the 
bottom  of  waters.  Every  sound  is  produced  in 
the  motion  and  manifest  collision  of  bodies :  not 
so  light. 

But  hostilities  of  light,  or  privations,  if  any  like 
the  term  better,  occur  not.  However,  as  is  ex 
ceedingly  probable,  the  torpor  of  bodies,  in  their 
parts,  is  very  inimical  to  light.  For  almost 
nothing  gives  light  that  is  not  in  its  own  nature 
remarkably  mobile,  or  excited  by  heat,  or  motion, 
or  vital  spirit. 

Yet  I  always  mean,  that  not  only  other  instances 
remain  to  be  investigated,  (for  these  few  we  have 
adduced  only  by  way  of  example,)  but  also  that 
new  topical  articles,  as  the  nature  of  things 
requires,  may  be  added. 


FRANCIS    BACON'S    APHORISMS 


ADVICES  CONCERNING  THE  HELPS  OF  THE  MIND  AND  THE  KINDLING  OF 

NATURAL  LIGHT. 


MAN,  the  servant  and  interpreter  of  nature,  does 
and  understands  as  much  as  he  has  actually  or 
mentally  observed  of  the  order  of  nature :  he 
neither  knows  nor  can  do  more. 

The  naked  hand  of  man,  however  strong  and 
constant,  suffices  for  but  few  operations,  and  those 
easy ;  the  same,  by  help  of  instruments,  performs 
many  and  obstinate  operations :  so  is  it  also  with 
the  mind. 

The  instruments  of  the  hand  excite  or  direct 
motion  :  and  the  instruments  of  the  mind  prompt 
or  caution  the  intellect. 

On  a  given  basis  of  matter  to  impose  any  nature, 
within  the  limits  of  possibility,  is  the  intention  of 
human  power.  In  like  manner,  to  know  the 
causes  of  a  given  effect,  in  whatever  subject,  is 
the  intention  of  human  knowledge :  which  inten 
tions  coincide.  For  that  which  is  in  contempla 
tion  as  a  cause,  is  in  operation  as  a  medium. 

The  knowledge  of  him  who  knows  the  cause 
of  any  nature,  as  of  whiteness  or  of  heat,  in  certain 
(subjects  only,  is  imperfect.  And  the  power  of 


him,  who  can  induce  an  effect  upon  certain  sub 
stances  only  of  such  as  are  susceptible,  is  like 
wise  imperfect. 

He  who  knows  the  causes  of  any  nature  in 
some  subjects  only,  knows  the  efficient  or  mate- 
riate  cause,  which  causes  are  inconstant,  and 
nothing  else  but  vehicles  and  causes  conveying1 
form.  But  he  who  comprehends  the  unity  of 
nature  in  the  most  dissimilar  substances,  knows 
the  form  of  things. 

He  who  knows  the  efficient  and  materiate 
causes,  composes  or  divides  things  previously 
invented,  or  transfers  and  produces  them;  also  in 
matter  somewhat  similar,  he  attaineth  unto  nev/ 
inventions ;  the  more  deeply  fixed  limits  of  things 
he  moveth  not. 

He  who  knows  the  forms,  discloses  and  educes 
things  which  have  not  hitherto  been  done,  such 
as  neither  the  vicissitudes  of  nature,  nor  the  dili 
gence  of  experience  might  ever  have  brought  into 
action,  or  as  might  not  have  entered  into  man's 
thoughts. 


APHORISMS. 


455 


The  same  is  the  way  and  the  perfection  of  truth 
and  of  power:  this,  namely,  to  discover  the  forms 
of  things,  from  the  knowledge  of  which  followeth 
true  contemplation  arid  free  operation. 

The  discovery  of  forms  which  proceeds  by  the 
exclusion  or  rejection  of  natures  is  simple  and  one. 
'^For  all  natures,  which  are  absent  in  a  given  pre 
sent  nature,  or  present  in  a  given  absent  nature, 
pertain  not  to  form;  and,  after  complete  rejection 
or  negation,  the  form  and  affirmation  remains.  If 
you  inquire,  for  example,  into  the  form  of  heat, 
and  find  water  hot,  yet  not  lucid,  reject  light :  if 
you  find  air  thin,  yet  not  hot,  reject  tenuity. 
This  is  short  to  say,  but  it  is  reached  by  a  long 
circuit. 

The  contemplative  and  the  operative  utterance 
of  words  differ  not  in  reality.  For  when  you  say, 


light  belongs  not  to  the  form  of  heat,  it  is  the 
same  as  if  you  were  to  say,  in  producing  heat  it 
is  not  necessary  to  produce  light  also. 

(The  rest  were  not  finished.) 
Nor  do  these  proceed  under  our  authority. 
Thou,  0  Father,  turning  to  the  works  which  thy 
hands  made,  saw  that  all  things  were  very  good ; 
but  man,  turning  to  the  works  which  his  hands 
made,  saw  that  all  was  vanity  and  vexation 
of  spirit.  Therefore,  if  we  have  laboured  amid 
thy  works,  thou  wilt  make  us  partakers  of  thy 
gratulation  and  of  thy  Sabbath.  We  humbly 
entreat  that  this  disposition  may  abide  in  us;  and 
that  by  our  hands  the  human  family  may  be 
endowed  with  new  alms  from  thee.  These  we 
commend  to  thy  eternal  love,  through  our  Jesus, 
thy  Christ,  God  with  us.  J.  A.  C. 


THE    END    OF    VOL.  I. 


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